Page 71 of Church Girl
Eleven
“Y’all up in here just testing all of my Christianity.”
Aaliyah
Isqueeze my eyes closed, listening to Tamara’s front door closing behind Von, ringing with finality.
With loss.
Pain wraps around my ribs and tightens until I’m gasping for breath.
“Aaliyah, I didn’t think it was possible to be this disappointed in you.” Daddy’s sonorous voice penetrates the agonized haze cloaking me. “What happened to my daughter?”
“Oh my God, could you stop with the guilt trip?” Tamara snaps. “She’s not a child.”
“Tamara, your uncle deserves your respect,” Mom admonishes her.
Tamara tilts her head. “And I don’t? The three of you popped up in my place uninvited. Who does that? And to do what? Lie? Embarrass your daughter? This right here—” she wags a finger back and forth, encompassing my parents and Gregory “—is exactly why people avoid church. They see who the so-called Christians are, rolling up in there every Sunday, and want no part of your religion. Now call me a heathen all you want, but I bet God is no more pleased with y’all.”
My mother gasps, splaying her fingers across her chest, while Daddy looks damn near apoplectic. And Gregory. Jesus, Gregory. How in the world did I ever agree to marry him? His disgusted scan of Tamara’s body tells me everything about how he treats others.
I would’ve been miserable as his wife.
“Aaliyah, pack your stuff. You’re coming back to the hotel with us, and we’re leaving out of here first thing in the morning,” Daddy orders, his voice cold and brooking no disobedience.
My first reaction is to obey. Since Tamara opened her door to the three of them standing on the other side, I’ve felt myself shrink smaller, my voice grow fainter. A part of me is still entombed in shock going from the warm bliss of being wrapped in Von’s arms, up under his big body and thrust into this cold, judgmental space. Even with Von and Tamara having my back, I couldn’t... I couldn’t...
A sob crawls up from my belly at the thought of Von. At his disbelief, his hurt. But the worst was his terrible indifference as he walked out of the apartment.
Walked away from me.
He took joy with him. Took the peace and contentment I’d found with him and Gia. Took my safe space I’d only started to appreciate.
I close my eyes again and try to capture the ephemeral sensation of his hand in mine.
Anger boils up inside me.
Anger at myself for reverting to that voiceless, powerless woman who arrived in Chicago months ago.
Anger at failing the woman I’d become.
Anger at my parents for their grasping control and refusal to really see me.
Anger at Von for not believing in me, trusting me. For walking out.
Was this karma? I’d run away from Gregory all those weeks ago, and now the man who’d become so important to me—so vital—had done the same to me.
You reap what you sow.
Screw that.
Then I’m due to reap kindness, acceptance. Joy.
Love.
“Aaliyah, don’t make me repeat myself,” Daddy says.
“Sweetheart, do what your father says, please.”
