The pastor drones on in the background about how important it is to have the man lead and how to date as a Christian, while I zone out, observing the aesthetics around me instead.
I’ve always loved the vibes of churches. Ours is one of the smaller ones in town. It was built in the early 1900s, bearing the typical old-school stained-glass windows flaunting multitudes of reds, blues, yellows and greens, depicting pictures of the bird of peace, angels, children, Jesus and a huge blue cross. The stained-glass needs tobe redone though because a lot of the color’s peeling off.
More sunlight peeks through the breaks in color than it should, leaving some people blinded in their pews from the sunlight reflecting so brightly on them.
I made the mistake once of sitting in a pew in its line of fire. My back was killing me by the end because I had to have my chin resting on my arms that settled on the pew in front of me for two hours without moving, otherwise the sun would’ve blinded me. Dad made fun of how I hobbled to the car afterwards which was extremely unhelpful.
My dad hits me playfully on the back of the head with the church pamphlet that details the sermon and agenda for the service, pulling me out of my stupor. I smirk at him. He returns it with a wink and silently mouths “pay attention”. I silently mouth back “I am” and sarcastically roll my eyes. He scratches my head to acknowledge the joke and turns forward to pay attention to the pastor. Luckily, the pastor begins the closing message and prayer, so I’m spared the act of fake listening any longer.
“Amen,” I say with the congregation after the closing prayer. I stand up and follow my parents around, awkwardly smiling at all the older folks and listening to the small talk they make on the way to the exit.
Sadly, this church won’t be around much longer. The congregation only consists of individuals over sixty and their children rarely come to the service. Meanwhile, the pastor looks like he’ll turn to dust if he gets caught in the wind.
Dad stops to chat with a few people he’s known since he was a kid while I walk to the car with Mom. She’s more like me, social to a point but also hates small talk. Plus, she didn’t grow up here like he did. She grew up traveling the world with her own father who was in the military.
Before she settled down with my dad, she was living in Barcelona—fresh out of college and doing research for her first horror novel when they met.
Dad was in Barcelona on a group trip with his high school buddies at the time. He said he and his friends were walking around and checking out the local bars when he spotted her under one of the patio lights. She was at the edge of the bar away from all the loud fuss of the drunks, sitting with her laptop open like no one else in the world existed but her.
Instantly captivated by her aura, he confidently walked up to her and said in a low voice, “Hey pretty girl, I like your style.” She responded by faking like she was going to hit him in the balls and then laughedhysterically when he fell over out of surprise, until he pulled her down with him and planted a big kiss on her.
They had the typical romantic night of talking until dawn and then spent the next seven days together. After that, it was history. They got married the week after and started their life together.
Every time he tells me the story of how they met, a goofy, sappy expression takes over like he’s watching his favorite movie. I love it.
The car door slams shut, making me jump out of my seat.
Man, I’m out of it today.
Wow, he’s back already? It only took him twenty minutes to make his rounds and talk to everyone instead of forty. He officially beat his personal record. His previous all-time record was thirty minutes so we’re making progress.
Mom cracks a joke about his record like she read my mind.
“Don’t jinx it,” he chuckles.
Dad starts the car and takes us to Pop’s Pizza Bar for our typical Sunday ritual; Church, pizza, then home where they work on their books, while I either do homework, workout, watch TV or hang out with Ben.
Oh. Ben… I forgot about Ben for a minute.
Has he texted or called me today? Now I wish we weren’t going to Pop’s Pizza so I could check my phone.
“Wow, I’ve rarely seen you eat so fast,” Dad exclaims as I shove down my third slice of a large extra cheese pizza. In retaliation, I smile with my mouth full of food to be silly and get a joking smack on my head from my mom which is her fun way of telling me to be polite.
As I heave another huge bite down my throat so we can hurry up and go home, a familiar voice reaches my ears from behind me. I turn around, my cheeks filled with pizza like a chipmunk and leftover sauce splattered on my chin from eating so fast, and about choke.
It’s Ben. He’s shaking hands with Duke, the owner of the shop, and Tree stands right behind him.
Pulling a speedy evasive maneuver, I duck down in the booth to hide and sink under it until just my head is left, resting on the cracked, red leather seat. A ball of pizza bobs in my throat, threatening to come back up at the sight of them together. I finish chewing what’s in my mouth and hard swallow to get the rest of it all the way down.
If they’re here together then they must be back together which also means he blocked me again. Whichalso means there’s no way he texted me. And why would he bring her here anyways? She seems way too stuck up to eat at a place like this.
My stomach violently twists into knots. This sucks. This all just sucks so much. Why does he have to be so obsessed with her? Does that mean the flirting yesterday really meant nothing? I rest my head on the leather of the booth and let the coolness of it settle on my skin.
“Um, sweetie? What are you doing?” Mom asks, bending over and peeking below the table, wearing a know-it-all smirk. She already knows why I'm hiding but doesn’t want to tell my dad to save me from possible embarrassment. I put my finger up to my mouth, signaling for her to be quiet.
It didn’t work. Dad chimes in…andnotquietly. As loud as a car horn, he yells, “Charlotte! How many times have we told younotto eat the crumbs off the floor! We can afford to have food on the table now that you’ve started working here!” He peeks down at me and starts laughing.
Completely mortified, I throw my face into my hands to hide. I want to die. I guarantee Ben could hear him. He knows my dad’s voice, and it wasnota quiet joke. Maybe since he’s with Tree he won’t come over here. A girl can hope.
