Linda Of Arc (The Arc Saga, Book 1) - Rewriting/Editing

Chapter 4: Choice

I played Temple Run on my iPhone while waiting for the plantains on the couch. Grandma Chioma called my name before I could complete another level. I smelled the sweet olive oil when I stepped into the kitchen. An orange ceiling light shone on the brown plantains frying in the pan; the oil sizzled around them.

I approached the island table and sat beside Mia on the black bar stools. Mia munched hers on her plate. Grandma Chioma turned to see me without speaking and handed me my plate. I got up to look over the pot filled with boiling red stew. As I grabbed the big silver spoon, I scooped up some to pour all over the plantains.

"After you girls finish eating, meet me in the living room," Grandma Chioma announced.

"Okay," I said, taking a bite from my sweet crispy plantain.

After Mia and I finished our food, we found Grandma Chioma glued to the Bible. Once she stopped reading, she called our names and ordered us to sit on the couch beside her. With Grandma Chioma in the middle, Mia and I took sides of sitting closer to her. She held our hands together when she looked at us.

"I am proud of your mother, but do not let the tabloids dictate your lives. Ignore those fools because God knows and sees everything!" Grandma Chioma said, reminding us.

"It's too late for that," I told her. "Some paparazzi dude spotted us coming out of the hospital."

"Wait, what!?" Grandma Chioma exclaimed, letting us go.

"Look, we got out of there the second that guy took pictures."

She closes her eyes and tightens her fist. Her eyebrows furrowed at the thought of paparazzi. When she opened her eyes, Grandma Chioma sighed. She turned to look me in the eye after she calmed herself down.

"This is what we have to put up with after your mother," she finally said. "I know we will get through this because God has this handled, for He is my witness."

A God who witnessed nights of me waking up in sweat, my knees aching in prayer, my cry for help, and my stupidity for thinking such things. And I won't deny that.

"You girls better be ready for church tomorrow," Grandma Chioma informed. "Because we need God's Word to cleanse our minds. We need His Holy Angels to protect us from this evil world!"

I opened my mouth to say something, but Grandma Chioma got up from the couch before I could disagree. Knowing her, she won't handle my response. Then again, I don't care anyway since I want to be honest.

"No," I told her.

Grandma Chioma turned with her eyebrow raised. "Excuse me?"

"I'm tired of waking up early, listening to sermons, and the reverend screaming, 'Holy ghost, fire!' many times," I explained, numbering my fingers. "That's my answer, okay?"

Grandma Chioma scoffs at my answer when she places her hands on her hips. She taps her foot on the floor, thinking of what to say. Instead, Grandma Chioma raises her hand in my face in her response.

"Linda, do you hear yourself? No, no. Do you hear yourself?" she emphasized, making her words clear. Grandma Chioma lowered her hand to glare at me. "All those reasons you spewed out of your mouth is your laziness. The church is for you, and God is for you!"

I shook my head and put my hands up, not giving in to her reasons. Throughout our little argument, I forgot Mia stood there, looking at us wide-eyed. Grandma Chioma ordered her to go upstairs, and Mia listened without a fuss.

"I'm not having this right now," I said, walking past her.

"No, you get right back here!" Grandma Chioma stomped her foot, demanding my attention. "We are having this conversation!"