Page 61 of Church Girl
I’m good.
Nine
“If God watches over drunks and fools, then no worries, I’m sufficiently covered.”
Aaliyah
“Liyah, can I ask you something?”
I pause in the middle of grabbing a book for Gia’s nightly bedtime story to look over at her. With her freshly braided hair under her silk bonnet and her pink unicorn pajamas on, she’s so cute tucked under the covers. After meeting her mother today, I can see where Gia inherited her pretty face. And though I don’t see much of Von in his daughter, that confidence and boldness is all her father. Even though her mother is a...piece of work, Gia is a perfect combination of her parents and, still, all her own person. I’ve quickly come to love this little girl in the weeks I’ve been taking care of her.
“Sure, sweetie, you can ask me anything,” I say, slippingBroken Crayons Still Colorby Toni Collier from her shelf for our nightly read. Gia has an impressive library, and we are working through all the books. “What’s on your mind?” I settle on the edge of her bed.
She scrunches her face up, then a moment later, she softly asks, “Why do Mommy and Daddy hate each other?”
The question knocks the wind out of me, and for a moment, I struggle for air. I easily see the sadness in her pretty hazel eyes, and I just want to hug her close, shield her from all the hurt no seven-year-old should feel.
This isn’t my place. Truthfully, I should tell her to wait and talk to her father when he comes home from work. But I can’t. I won’t be an adult in her life who ignores her feelings or lies to her.
Carefully, choosing my words, I say, “Baby, your parents don’t hate each other—”
“Un-huh,” she interrupts me, nodding her head so hard her bonnet slips forward. “I heard Mommy tell Daddy she hates him today. And she tells Aunt Jasmine all the time on the phone when she thinks I don’t hear her.”
Jesus.
I briefly close my eyes. After having encountered her mother this morning, I don’t know why I’m surprised. She’d been ready to throw down in front of Gia at the shop if Von hadn’t convinced her to leave. So it shouldn’t shock me that she’s careless enough to badmouth her ex-husband—Gia’s father—within her earshot. Even if it’s accidental. How ’bout not do it when she’s in the house and there’s even a chance of that happening?
“She might say that sometimes, and those words are hurtful. We shouldn’thateanyone. But I don’t think she means it, and I don’t believe your father feels that way, either.” When Gia frowns again, I try another tactic. “Don’t you sometimes say things you don’t mean? Didn’t you just tell me last week that your friend Khamari gets on your nerves? You didn’t mean that—”
“Un-huh!” Gia interrupts again with another adamant head nod. “I meant it. She wouldn’t stop singing whenever Halle sung ‘Part of Your World’ inThe Little Mermaid, so I told her she got on my nerves.”
Lord ha’ mercy. I can’t argue that logic.
“Okay, you might have meant it in that moment, but does she always get on your nerves? You still like her, and she’s still your friend, right?”
“Yes,” Gia says. Her frown deepens for a moment then it clears. “So Mommy and Daddy only hate each other sometimes?”
“They don’t hate one another, sweetie. Is your mommy mad at your daddy sometimes, and he gets mad at her right back? Yes. But we all get upset at people, and our feelings get hurt. When they do, we can say things we don’t really mean at the time—not like with you and Khamari,” I add, cutting her off when she parts her lips to correct me. In spite of the serious topic, a laugh bubbles inside me. I wait a second to tamp it down then continue. “We can say mean, hurtful things, but it doesn’t mean we have hate in our hearts for the other person. The most important thing, Gia, is they loveyouso much. And their love for you will always be so big that nothing else matters, okay?”
She stares at me, and finally, she says, “Okay. But, Liyah?” she asks before I can breathe a sigh of relief that I waded through that minefield.
“Yes?”
“When they fight, my stomach hurts. And I get sad.”
“I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry. Have you ever told them that it makes you sad?”
She shakes her head, dropping her eyes from mine. “I don’t want them to be mad at me,” she whispers.
“Oh, Gia, they would never be mad at you for telling the truth.” I can say that for a certainty with Von. Just from what I’ve witnessed, and the kind of father he is with her, I think it would hurt his heart to know she’s feeling this way. “Why don’t you do this? Tomorrow, tell your father how you’re feeling and see what he says, okay? Start with him. I bet you’ll feel so much better after you do.”
Another beat of silence where she studies me, as if judging if I’m being honest with her. Then she nods and a smile spreads across her little face. “Okay. Now can you read me a story?”
Children. Their attention can switch like lightning. Especially when they feel secure.
“Wecan read the story. You’re such a good reader, we can do it together.”
She beams, sitting up. “Okay!”
