Bread: A Hood Love Story

Gabrielle (I)

June 7th

11:00am

 

The sound of the church piano echoes throughout the church and I open my lips to sing. The words to the song come so naturally, as if directing my voice. I didn't even have to look to know that my father had a proud smile on his face. He leaned over and gave me a wink as he directed the choir through the chorous.

'You are an awesome wonder, no other power compares to you...'

All the church folk, dressed to impress in their Sunday best, hoot and holler as I hit the high notes. Some are even close to fainting at the power of my voice. I've never been one to brag, but I think I got Kirk Franklin beat on this one.

          'Perfect in all your ways, everyday, faithful and ever true...'

          As I end the song, my father stands at the altar to end the service, and as always the church hussies flock to him like moths to a flame. A few come to kiss up to me and tell me about my voice. All of it just to get in good with my father, but I guess that's just me.

          "Oh Gabi, you sing so well!" they say.

"Gabi! Lawd, you just too pretty girl how ya been?"

"Gabi, girl how are ya?! I remember when you was just a lil' baby..."

          Ugh. I don't even know any of these women.

          "Gabrielle. I see you take after your mother."

          Oh no. Not this woman. Ms. Watson, who is also the fakest hussy out of my dad's entourage, loves to give me and everyone else all these backhanded compliments. Everybody knows she's full of it. With her short 5'5 frame, a permanent frown, and peppered black hair, she hardly has any reason to act as snobbish as she does. I can't stand her.

I roll my eyes at her. "Ms. Watson."

          She looks down at me even though I tower over her at 5'9. "Hasn't your mother ever taught you to respect your elders? I swear I don't know how your poor father does it, dealing with you. Especially both you and your mother at once." She fakes a smile at me. "Such a shame she's no longer with us, isn't it?"

          Now normally her words don't affect me, but that kind of stung. I glare at her, ready to snap back at her for talking about my mother.

          Before I can say anything back to her, my father breaks away from his hussies and steps over to grab me in a tight bear hug.

          "Hey baby girl, how ya doin'?" He then gives me a kiss on my forehead. I can see Ms. Watson giving me a nasty look out of the corner of my eye. I giggle to myself. She really needs to get a life.

          "Hey daddy!" I give him a hug back. I swear my father's the only one that keeps me the least bit sane in this church, even if he is as crazy as some of the women in here sometimes. My father, Pastor James Washington, is a pretty heavyset guy, but not obese. He has warm brown eyes and peppered black hair, dark-skinned, and had somewhat chubby cheeks. I guess he would be considered a good looking man for a 50-year-old. Maybe that's why he always has some woman on his arm.