I'd Rather Not Say
Sundays
It was Sunday morning, and a good little Christian would have been at church. But not only had my little escapade last night worn me out, but I was fearing I might have earned my spot in a sermon. It was annoying how Dennen always did that.
You see, when I was ten years old, I was supposed to light the candles in the church at the beginning of service. Again, I was ten, and I was in an awkward stage where my legs were way too long for my body. Sort of like a deer. Anyway, there was an elderly lady walking with a cane to her section of the pew, and I didn't really see her. My gangly legs got caught in the cane, knocked her over, and the lit candle went flying to the top of Preacher Dennen's head.
He wears a toupee now.
But the next Sunday, my incident with the candle induced some prayers for my sake, so that God would correct my horrible klutziness, and to heal the poor old woman I'd knocked over.
When I was thirteen, I met Christian during youth group. We were supposed to be looking after Nathan, Dennen's nephew who was nine. He had decided he needed to go get something. So me and Christian were in the balcony, alone. Fill in the blanks. I know, I know, I'm a horrible person for making out in a church. I learned my lesson. Nathan came back to us and at the top of his lungs, yelled, "EW! GROSS! UNCLE DENNEN!" The preacher came running, probably assuming someone was dying from the tone of his nephew's scream. "THEY'RE KISSING!" Nathan cried out.
The next Sunday, Preacher Dennen stared holes into mine and Christian's heads, while lecturing us all on resisting....temptations.
So I was sitting in my bed, recalling all of my mortifying mentions at church, and I realized I had a text. It was from Scarlet, of course. I clicked 'READ' on my phone and let out a groan when I saw the contents. 'I'll pray for you! :]' she had sent me.
Forgive me God, for I have sinned, I laughed to myself.
It was 9:30, and that's when the service ended. I wasn't surprised when I felt my phone vibrate. Another text. This time, it was from Christian. I sighed in relief, thinking he'd at least try to comfort me. I was so wrong. He was a guy, after all, and somehow found this predicament amusing. 'Too bad you missed this one. We were the main attraction ;]'. I sighed again, but this time in frustration.
I trudged into the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat so I could drown out my embarrassment. As I was rummaging through the fridge, I heard the front door unlock. My parents were home.
"Hello, sweetheart! I'm sorry, we should've left you a note to tell you we had gotten home. We caught an early flight and were able to make it to church! You should have heard Dennen go on today about irresponsible kids, and how they need stern guidance in their life. I'm so thankful I have a sweet daughter and not a little whore," my mom said, kissing the top of my head.
My phone rang. It was Christian. "I saw your parents!" he snorted.
"Oh I know. I'll talk to you later. I've got to go," I replied, ready to have an aneurism or something, just to escape the irony. I snapped my phone shut.
"Who was that, honey?" my mom asked. She chose NOW to be interested.
"Christian," I mumbled back.
"Oh yes! We saw him this morning during the service. He's such a nice young man!" she gushed.
Nice. Young. Man.
Oh, the irony.
You see, when I was ten years old, I was supposed to light the candles in the church at the beginning of service. Again, I was ten, and I was in an awkward stage where my legs were way too long for my body. Sort of like a deer. Anyway, there was an elderly lady walking with a cane to her section of the pew, and I didn't really see her. My gangly legs got caught in the cane, knocked her over, and the lit candle went flying to the top of Preacher Dennen's head.
He wears a toupee now.
But the next Sunday, my incident with the candle induced some prayers for my sake, so that God would correct my horrible klutziness, and to heal the poor old woman I'd knocked over.
When I was thirteen, I met Christian during youth group. We were supposed to be looking after Nathan, Dennen's nephew who was nine. He had decided he needed to go get something. So me and Christian were in the balcony, alone. Fill in the blanks. I know, I know, I'm a horrible person for making out in a church. I learned my lesson. Nathan came back to us and at the top of his lungs, yelled, "EW! GROSS! UNCLE DENNEN!" The preacher came running, probably assuming someone was dying from the tone of his nephew's scream. "THEY'RE KISSING!" Nathan cried out.
The next Sunday, Preacher Dennen stared holes into mine and Christian's heads, while lecturing us all on resisting....temptations.
So I was sitting in my bed, recalling all of my mortifying mentions at church, and I realized I had a text. It was from Scarlet, of course. I clicked 'READ' on my phone and let out a groan when I saw the contents. 'I'll pray for you! :]' she had sent me.
Forgive me God, for I have sinned, I laughed to myself.
It was 9:30, and that's when the service ended. I wasn't surprised when I felt my phone vibrate. Another text. This time, it was from Christian. I sighed in relief, thinking he'd at least try to comfort me. I was so wrong. He was a guy, after all, and somehow found this predicament amusing. 'Too bad you missed this one. We were the main attraction ;]'. I sighed again, but this time in frustration.
I trudged into the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat so I could drown out my embarrassment. As I was rummaging through the fridge, I heard the front door unlock. My parents were home.
"Hello, sweetheart! I'm sorry, we should've left you a note to tell you we had gotten home. We caught an early flight and were able to make it to church! You should have heard Dennen go on today about irresponsible kids, and how they need stern guidance in their life. I'm so thankful I have a sweet daughter and not a little whore," my mom said, kissing the top of my head.
My phone rang. It was Christian. "I saw your parents!" he snorted.
"Oh I know. I'll talk to you later. I've got to go," I replied, ready to have an aneurism or something, just to escape the irony. I snapped my phone shut.
"Who was that, honey?" my mom asked. She chose NOW to be interested.
"Christian," I mumbled back.
"Oh yes! We saw him this morning during the service. He's such a nice young man!" she gushed.
Nice. Young. Man.
Oh, the irony.