BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 16 ||

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday, oh how no one talks about you like Fridays or Saturdays. I wonder why people hate you so much along with Mondays. Maybe you turned out to be the confined day with the limited time in the hours where people are reckoned and reflecting on life in a holistic view. Churchgoers can't cry about you because they revitalize the days and rejuvenate their new day birth and faith habitually.

Oh Sundays, what is it about Sundays people don't see, you think? Clearly, it's what they make it out to be.

  — Ebonee 

Jewelz wanted to take me to church service on a typical traditional Sunday to get closer to the Lord and come to an understanding with my position in life. To realize I'm here to love and be loved, forgive and find belonging to my bright future. She had the audacity to tell me this crap in order for God to watch me "closely" after what happened.

I tried fitting a dress over my body curves and angles, but I wasn't shaped like the mediocre person with a measured set of dips in my hips and small lower body area. If wearing tight dresses were a requirement, there might be a problem.

There was nothing wrong with going to church, in fact, "God is good...all the time." It's just been awhile since I've been there. Mom never had the family attend much Sunday service. I can barely remember the last time I took a Bible with me. That could be one of the reasons the family fell apart.

We didn't have God's faith and light on our shoulders since we weren't asking for his guidance.

Which is why Jewelz thought it was a great idea to take me and the kiddies with sarcasm intended.

I balanced the bible, cheap paper fan, and money in one hand and held Colleen's hand in the process. She fidgeted by wiggling her arms or walked faster than me or even slowed up to the point I had to pull her. No fixed walk. Elijah was carried on the side of Jewelz's hip without too much fuss and struggle.

Colleen could learn a few things from her brother.

We headed in with two people outside the double doors greeting churchgoers, their grin that was too wide with a full set of tooth ad whitening smiles and tight welcoming hugs. A middle-aged lady with brown eyebrows that didn't match her light hair gasped when it was our turn-not me-but Colleen. She bent down to be eye-level with the cute toddler.

"Hi," she dragged out syllables, elongating it to seem like Colleen couldn't comprehend the language, "That's a cute dress. Do you like pink? You look beautiful."

Colleen didn't reply back and stared at the woman like she was a maniac.

The woman waited with enough patience that I quickly intervened, "Colleen, what do you say?"

She scrunched the fabric of her dress and played with it in between her fingers. "Tha-nk you," she shyly answered and looked up at me.

"Aww, no problem sweetie," the lady stood up and with adored eyes, "Your daughter is so cute."

Uh wait, what?

I nervously laughed, one that was feigned at her silly comment. "She's not my daughter, just my baby cousin." And tried to smile but irritation struck my happy effort. She put her hand over her chest, flabbergasted and quite ashamed (I hope) after that dumb comment she made.

"I'm so sorry, I. . ." While everything else went in one ear and out the other for me. I nodded at every weak excuse she gave and proceeded inside. Despite the ignorant lady, the church was more beautiful inside than out. The ceiling hung tall, reaching it's way up to the sky and marvelous craftsmanship of the windows and ceilings were mesmerizing. The medieval stained glass windows didn't display the primary colors of just any church but tinted colors that once the light shined through, it matted a dim darkness and illuminated every artistic detail. The stoned bricks outlined around individual arched windows and the vintage designs from stories in the bible painted nicely on the walls.