Page 6 of Ezekiel
“Oh, no. No tears on such a happy occasion,” she chided sweetly, dabbing at her own eyes. “Let’s fix your hair and you’ll be fit as a fiddle. I’m thinking we should pull it back, like so.” She affixed the top half of my hair towards the back of my head, pulling it away from my face.
“I was thinking of leaving it down, actually, Mother. After all,women should adorn themselves in respectable apparel, with modesty and self-control, not with braided hair and gold or pearls or costly attire, but with what is proper for women who profess godliness—with good works.” I quoted the scripture dutifully.
“Such a kind and godly servant of the Lord, Talia,” my father spoke from the open doorway. “Yes, you shall leave your hair down and unadorned. So sayeth the Lord.”
Father crossed the room, pressing a kiss to my forehead before looking at me again.
“Come, let’s get ourselves to the church.”
I sat at the head table in the fellowship hall, my eyes cast on the plate of food before me. It was good food, well prepared by the Elder matriarchs. Yet, no matter how appetizing the food may have been, my stomach turned at the thought of eating a single bite. Instead, I pushed the food around the plate with my fork. My eyes were unfocused, seeing nothing but the events of the day playing through my head.
Where had it all gone wrong? One minute I was standing in front of my parent’s mirror, feeling like the most beautiful and blessed of brides. The next, I was officially Talia Temple, being led down the basement steps of the church and then —
My thoughts cut off as my fork clattered against the plate. I quickly looked around the room, praying no one had noticed.
Praying.
What a concept. I tried my best to remember that God works in mysterious ways;I had been told as much since before I could remember. At the very least, since Mother and Father had adopted me all those years ago. I was only five when my biological parents had been killed in a car accident. God took me in His hand and saved me, and then guided me to my new parents: the Parrish’s, here at Zion.
I had a good life, a godly life, with two parents who loved me not because I was their child by blood, but because they had chosen me. God had put us together.
But no one had prepared me. No one, not Mother or Father, or anyone, had told me what would happen today. I tried to justify the way the Elders had looked at me, the way they had touched me. The Lord had commanded that I be pure of body and pure of heart in order to be married. Of course the Elders would want to verify such purity. But, they had not verified my pure heart. There had been no conversation with me prior to the wedding day. No, they had simply trusted my parents’ word that I was a devout woman of God and was pure of heart. Why was this taken any differently? Why had this been necessary?
I tried to quell the rising questions, knowing that it was not my place to question the works of God. And the works of God were carried out by the church. I prayed that the Lord would quiet my spirit and calm my nerves.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when Ezekiel plopped down in the seat next to me. I could barely meet his gaze. I needed to shake this feeling off, to trust in the Lord. The Lord would provide. He blessed His faithful followers. I just needed to take a breath and trust.
“Do you need to say your goodbyes to anyone?” His voice was different from what I had expected. I thought, perhaps his voice would be high-pitched like a younger boy, but in fact, his voice was rich. Not deep like my father’s, but rich, like a fine dessert. I found it pleasing.
Everything was passing by in a blur, as though I were watching the scene unfold instead of actually living it. I said goodbye to my family as well as my small circle of friends. Advice fell on my ears like rain, but as the rain does, it simply washed over me, never penetrating the surface. Time was languid and confusing until suddenly I found myself in the passenger seat of Ezekiel’s car, driving away from the church parking lot.
The stark change from the loud celebration in the church to the eerie quiet of the car grated on my nerves. It was too quiet, giving me too much time to think about what had happened. I couldn’t stand it.
“Mind if I turn on some music?” I asked, reaching for the dial on the car’s dashboard, desperate for anything that would fill the aching silence.
“Please, don’t—” His words were too late. I had already turned on the stereo and loud music rang throughout the car. His outburst scared me, making me jump. And then overwhelming regret hit.
I shouldn’t have just assumed I could touch his car. I should not have assumed he would want to listen to music. With my eyes downcast in guilt and my hands in my lap so as not to make another mistake, I internally berated myself.
It was a silly thing, really, but I had just wanted to hear some music. Music was something only enjoyed during a church service here, but I loved music. My father and I would occasionally sneak down to the basement of our home and he would play his old cassette tapes quietly. It was a little secret of ours. When I saw the stereo in Ezekiel’s car, I was excited.
He felt bad, for his outburst. I could tell. He had no reason to feel bad. It was my fault. So we both went back to the deafening silence until finally we pulled into his home. It was absolutely nothing like I had imagined. I had visited Ollie and Delilah’s home twice in the past weeks. Delilah and I had stayed good friends through her own wedding just a few months prior. Their home was lovely, modern and new. This home was quaint. Not tiny, but cozy. It wasn’t at all what I would have pictured.
I sat in the car as he carried my things inside, needing just a moment to breathe — alone. He quickly came to my side, helping me from the car before leading me into his home. Our home.
One quick, and somewhat poor excuse of a tour of his home and he sent me off in the direction of the bedroom. I had thought he would join me, but he did not. He gave me space. I sat on the edge of the bed, just taking the moment in when I heard it. I heard a door slam roughly.
“Ezekiel?” I called out in worry. Poking my head out of the door, I glanced around in search of him. Nowhere.
I traveled down the hallway, peeking from room to room. Still nothing. It wasn’t until I noticed the back porch lights were on that I realized what had happened. He had left. He just up and left on our wedding day. What the heck was that about?
I wasn’t sure what to think, or what to do, so I made my way back to the bedroom and began preparing for bed. Mother had given me a beautiful, yet simple, shift to wear on my wedding night. I carefully removed my gown, placing the shift on instead. The reflection in the bathroom’s mirror was a welcome one. I was grateful for the life I had been given. I was blessed to have had God choose such wonderful parents for me. I only hoped that this match would prove as much a blessing as well.
As the minutes ticked by, I realized that tonight was not going to be the wedding night Mother had prepared me for. After being so exposed in the church’s basement, I wasn’t sure I minded all that much. I prepared for bed, pulling down the covers and slipping into the soft flannel sheets. The fabric was warm and comforting against my skin.
I let my thoughts wander through the brighter portions of the day. Of getting ready with my parents. Of walking down the aisle and seeing Ezekiel there waiting for me. Truth be told, it was not the wedding I had dreamed of as a child. Not that I would admit it to anyone, but I had always imagined a grand affair full of music and dancing and so much joy that it simply burst out of each and every guest in attendance.
I dreamed of dancing until the late night hours, until I was dizzy and flush-faced. Of being in my husband’s arms, swaying to the music. There was a memory, somewhere in the back corners of my mind, of a movie I had seen as a child. Most likely, before I was adopted. In it, the ladies and gentlemen danced all night at some royal affair. It was intoxicating to watch, and it had filled my wedding day dreams ever since.
