Chu'ch Girl (pt.1)

Disclaimer: This is a lil graphic. But it's REAL. And this DOES happen in churches all across North America, from what I know at least. I don't want any of y'all to be offended, but ummm...well, just let the story speak for itself. It's fiction of course, like ALL my stories on here. (Bet ya didn't know that!)

~

Sit up straight. Smile when they talk to you. Make sure you show how happy you are to see them. Make them believe it. Make them think you are genuine. And for Pete’s sake girl, make sure you’re face is washed and refreshed after the sermon. Nobody likes a sweaty little girl…

Instructions were what I was used to every Sunday. This wasn’t an intrusion on my daily life though, because this was the spiritual alternative to what I dealt with all the time.
My mother.
Head deaconess.
Children’s and Youth Choir Director.
Head Chairwoman of the Outreach Committee.
And when the Nurse In Charge was sick on any given Sunday, she became the replacement. Her skills didn’t even reach past 2nd year nursing school in the Virgin Islands.
She was Mrs. Williamson-Smith. The most respected and applauded churchwoman since 1927, when the Holy Ghost fell upon her in front of family and friends, and she began to prophesy. Up to this day, most members of the Southwind Holy Spirit of Fire Baptist church still don’t know what really happened that faithful day of March 16th, 1927. But older members proclaim it being the most spirit filled performance to date in the church.
That word rang out annoyingly to me: performance.
Did God execute church productions?
I never thought so.
But knowing my mother, I’m sure she made it seem that way.

_________


-It’s cramped in here Carlos.
-Shhh shh shh…just undo your blouse. Quickly. Hurry!
-Okay, okay. Relax. Just remember that—
-I know, I know ‘it’s your first time’—
-Right. Please don’t rush me. I feel strange enough already…

He picked out the prayer closet by the empty storage room. We were on the second floor of the administration wing at Southwind. It was Sunday. 12:30 in the afternoon. Right when the hooping and hollering started up before the long winded sermon, I let out the most daring scream. It bellowed down the halls of the abandoned wing, but no one caught it. Or caught us for the matter.
I lost my virginity at 13.
I got pregnant at 14 and a half.

____________


-Ahhhh Deacon Randolf, nice to see you again.
I forced a smile.
-Same to you pretty little miss, how have you been doing?
-Fine.

I stopped myself from saying anything else.
He caught my taut jaw, and my glance down to floor. Slowly, I looked back up and saw his neck crooked--face incredulous--expecting me to say more.

I bet.

-You sure you’re okay little lady?
-Yessir, today is the day that the Lord has made…

I faded off in hopes he would continue, and surely he did. With a wide mouth, head back, laughing gauntly with eyes shut tight. My eyes were black and pressed on him. He touched my right shoulder gently and said that my momma sure done raised me proper. That I’d be a fine deaconess one day. That God sure has favor on me. Maybe one day I’d even run the choir—
Nausea hit me at that instant.
I smiled ghastly, and said ‘good-day’ hurriedly so I could run to the basement bathroom. I didn’t want to be questioned why my puke was green with the cabbage sauce and saugage links I cooked up this morning. Or why when I peed it was yellower than usual. Or that my breasts were awfully full for a young, wiry thing like me. Or why Mrs. Delloware often heard gasps and grunts every other Sunday since June…

I swear on the Holy Book, Celia. People are in that prayer room during service. Oh why I was there? I needed to get art supplies for the children’s activities.
Where is Lucia anyway? She hasn’t been in the front pews lately…has she?

I heard my mother smiling from across the atrium. I glanced over and bowed my head politely. Everyone was expecting me to glow on Sunday’s, and I never let them down. I saw Carlos by the secretary office and he smiled at me. I looked at him quickly, then dazed. I didn’t return the gesture, it would’ve looked too obvious. Everyone at Southwind had a second pair of eyes when it came to me and the boys. I was the prettiest little black girl to ever exist they said. Too bad I was so dark though. Black, but pretty.

Deacon Smith should’ve produced a lighter child…

I heard the pastor’s wife whisper that to the treasury lady one day after Sunday school. I rolled my eyes in my head just for the satisfaction.

If they ever knew how their sons wanted my bluish-black body. How they craved it. And came to my room at nights sometimes just to taste my flesh. But I wouldn’t let ‘em.
Blackberries are the juiciest they say.
Carlos had his fill more than anyone else...

Sometimes at night I could feel Satan lurking in my closet.

He's the one who chases all of the monsters away.




TO BE CONTINUED...