For the majority of the car ride, Audrey chatted and gushed about how sweet Charlotte was being. Zenovia wanted her to be quiet, but she left well enough alone. Better to endure some chatter than to see the other side of Audrey—the out-of-control schizophrenic side that could curse a grown man out in three languages and make him wish he’d never met her.
They pulled up to a small brick building and Charlotte exclaimed, “We’re here!”
The Northeast Devotion Center was nothing special from what Zenovia could see. There were no lines drawn on the ground for parking, no steeple, cross, or stained-glass windows. Actually, there weren’t any windows. Zenovia thought that they could really use a building fund.
As if reading her thoughts, Charlotte’s husband, Thomas, said, “It might not look like much now, but in about six months we’re doing a weekend build.”
Audrey asked, “What is a weekend build?”
“It’s when we give the center a complete overhaul all over a three-day weekend. Everybody gets to help,” Tristan answered.
The prospect of seeing Tristan in jeans and work boots was enough to convince Zenovia. “Sounds like fun,” she said.
Audrey and Zenovia walked into the Devotion Center arm in arm. Mother’s contagious enthusiasm had infected daughter. Both had smiles plastered on their faces.
Zenovia expected to go in, sit down, and fade into the background. Fading was something that she was exceptionally good at. It was a skill learned from many years of guarding Audrey. Watching for signs that she was going to have an episode. Lately they had been far and few between, but medication or no medication, there was always a risk.
Mother and daughter took a seat on the second to last row. Zenovia’s eyes followed Tristan as he went and talked to a group of young people. Envy threatened to turn her ebony skin green when Tristan hugged a stylishly dressed Latina. She felt her body tense as they walked in her direction.
“What time does this thing start?” Zenovia asked Audrey. She didn’t want to meet Tristan’s girlfriend. She was still reminiscing about his drier sheet aroma.
Audrey looked at her watch. “In about fifteen minutes, if they start on time. But most churches don’t start on time.”
Tristan and the Latina sat down on the row in front of Zenovia and turned around in their seats. He said, “Zee, this is my friend Mia. Mia, meet Zenovia.”
On closer inspection, Mia wasn’t a Latina at all. She was a black girl; another somebody with “Indian in her blood.” Zenovia bit her lip as Mia tossed her hair over her shoulder.
Mia said, “It’s nice to meet you, Zenovia. Do you go to Carver?”
Zenovia stifled a chuckle. “Um, no. I’m at West Marshall. Class of 1995!”
“Oh,” Mia said. She sounded so dejected, in fact, that Zenovia waited to hear her condolences.
Tristan offered, “You know, Zee, there is a vocational exchange program from West Marshall to Carver. You can transfer and take dental assisting or secretarial careers.”
“I’m in college prep classes,” shot Zenovia with pride.
“Seriously?” Mia asked.
Audrey boasted, “Yep, she’s in IP-AB!”
Tristan and Mia looked confused so Zenovia explained, “International Baccalaureate, Advanced Placement. IB-AP, Mom, not IP-AB.”
“You know what I meant.”
Tristan said, “That might change if you hang around us long enough. But right now, service is about to start and I’m on duty tonight.”
Mia hurried off to her seat next to Alyssa and Tristan stood on the wall holding a microphone that was attached to a long pole. There were three other young men stationed around the room also holding microphones. Zenovia wanted to think of the room as a church sanctuary, but somehow that word just didn’t seem to fit.
A gruff-looking older man took the podium. His beard and short afro were peppered with gray, and he wore small glasses that sat sternly on the bridge of his nose. He opened his mouth and led the congregation in a song that Zenovia had not ever heard before. There was no choir; everyone sang in unison.
Just as the Devotion Center didn’t quite seem like a sanctuary, the song didn’t quite feel right for a congregation full of black folk. There was none of the pain and hope that etched the Gospel hymns she’d heard her entire life. The songs that were reminiscent of old negro spirituals. The songs that promised joy in the morning after weeping all night long.
This Brethren of the Sacrifice song reminded Zenovia of one of the church scenes from Little House on the Prairie. Since she and Audrey didn’t know the words to the song, a lady seated in their row handed them a yellow songbook. The lyrics were nice and the melody was pleasant, but Zenovia felt nothing to stir her emotions and make her want to say, “Thank you, Lord!” Which was a good thing because no one else was giving God the glory.
Not a Hallelujah. Not a glory. Not a thank you Jesus.
Nothing.
After the song, the gruff-looking man said a prayer, then took his seat. Another middle-aged man stepped to the podium and started the Bible study. He read a selection from a pamphlet and then posed a question to the congregation. Zenovia assumed that it was rhetorical until hands shot up as if they were in a classroom.
The young men carrying microphones scurried around to the names that were called. Most of the responses were read word for word from the pamphlet, but a few attempted to put the answers in their own words. Zenovia noted that the latter responses came mostly from the older men.
After an hour of questions and answers, another older man took the podium and closed in prayer. There was no altar call and no one opened the doors of the church. It was just over.
Audrey leaned over to Zenovia and asked, “Is that it?”
“I guess so.”
People had started mingling and having private conversations. Tristan and Alyssa came over to Zenovia. Tristan grabbed her hand and pulled her away from Audrey. Zenovia did not want to leave her mother alone, but found herself vulnerable to Tristan’s charisma.
Zenovia asked, “Where are we going?”
“To meet the rest of the young people.”
Zenovia stopped. “Oh. I’m good, Tristan.”
“What do you mean, you’re good? You don’t want to make new friends?”
Zenovia didn’t know how to explain the answer to that question. Making new friends was not part of her plan. She preferred to not connect with people. That way, when Audrey inevitably had an episode, they could leave and it wouldn’t hurt too much.
She finally replied, “I’m a little shy, I guess.”
“Don’t worry. Tristan will do all of the talking.” Alyssa laughed as she linked arms with Zenovia.
And Tristan did do all of the talking. “Hey, everybody. This is Zenovia. She and her mother are visiting with us.”
Zenovia couldn’t keep up with the flurry of hellos and introductions. She caught the name of Tristan’s best friend, Kyle. When she and Kyle made eye contact, Zenovia was blindsided by a vision.
Kyle sits on the edge of his tiny twin-size bed. Tears streak his face, but he does not look sad. He’s angry. Both his shirtsleeves are rolled up above his elbows and he bleeds from little cuts on his arms. Suddenly, in the midst of his tears, a smile spreads across his face.
Tristan asked, “Zee, are you okay? We lost you for a sec.”
“I’m cool. Just tired.”
It was very difficult for Zenovia to regain her composure after a vision. Because of her keen sense of empathy, she briefly experienced the emotions of the person in her vision. It always seemed so real.
On the way home, Zenovia was again seated next to Tristan. He asked, “So what did you think of service?”
“It was… different.”
“Really? In what way?”
Zenovia chuckled. “Well, it’s nothing like any of the churches I’ve ever attended.”
“That’s a good thing. It’s supposed to be different.”
Zenovia leaned in close and said quie
tly, “To be honest, it was a little boring. I’m used to a lot of singing and a lot of dancing.”
“We come to the Devotion Center to learn about God, not to get excited,” Tristan replied in a hot whisper that threatened to intoxicate Zenovia with its cinnamon scent.
“You can’t get excited about God?”
“I get excited about having accurate knowledge. You can’t really know God anyway, but the Council of Brethren has painted us a wonderful picture of his character.”
Zenovia was confused. “The Council of Brethren. What is that?”
“It’s a group of anointed men who study the Bible all day long and then they write our Bible study lessons.”
“Wow. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
Tristan touched Zenovia’s hand. She felt herself shiver. “It’s good to be different, Zee. The Brethren of the Sacrifice are on the narrow road.”
“But what about other churches? Aren’t they on the narrow road too?”
“Not if they aren’t teaching the truth.”
Chapter Three
It was Friday. Two days after Zenovia and Audrey’s first visit to the Northeast Devotion Center and already they were invited to a party. Well, Charlotte had called it a gathering, but Zenovia wasn’t sure of the difference.
Audrey poked her head into their shared bedroom and asked, “What are you going to wear?”
“With so many choices it’s hard to decide,” Zenovia replied.
Audrey chuckled and went back to her flat ironing, while Zenovia looked at her very limited clothing selections. A few pairs of jeans and some off-brand T-shirts were spread across the bed. Zenovia snatched up her favorite pair of jeans and a tiny red shirt.
She put on the outfit, looked in the mirror, and smiled. It may not have been a designer ensemble, but it definitely flattered her round behind and tiny waist. She had wrapped her short haircut and was wearing it plastered to her head.
“Here you go. I picked these up from the dollar store,” Audrey said as she handed Zenovia a little bag.
She reached in and pulled out a pair of large hoop earrings. “Thanks, Mom.”
Zenovia took the gold-colored earrings from their package and coated them with a layer of clear nail polish to keep the color from fading. While they were drying, she slicked Vaseline on her lips, eyeliner on her bottom eyelid, and mascara on her short lashes. The earrings topped off her whole look.
“You look good, Zee. Tristan is gonna do a triple take.”
Zenovia pondered for a second. “I don’t know if I care what he thinks.”
“You should. He’s cute, and nice too!”
“He’s all right,” Zenovia agreed.
There was a knock on their apartment door. Audrey brightened, “Speak of the devil—”
“Mom, you know I hate when you say that.”
Audrey ignored Zenovia’s objection and went to open the door. Zenovia heard her mother greeting Tristan while she selected a worn but comfortable corduroy jacket.
When Zenovia entered the room, Tristan looked her up and down. She smiled and said, “Are you done gawking?”
“You look nice.” Tristan laughed.
“Thanks.”
As they walked out of the apartment Audrey nudged Zenovia in the ribs and mouthed, “I told you.”
Tristan was driving a little red Ford Escort that looked about ten years old. “Is that your ride?” Zenovia asked.
“Yes. You like it?”
Zenovia laughed, “It’s no Impala, but it’ll get us from point A to point B.”
“Dag, you ranking my ride?”
“It’s a cute car for a chick,” Zenovia teased.
“What are you driving?”
Audrey burst into laughter. “He got you there, Zee. You know you be hoofin’ it.”
Zenovia joined her mother in laughing. She was shocked when Tristan opened the car doors for her and Audrey.
Audrey voiced Zenovia’s thoughts. “You’re a real Prince Charming, huh?”
Tristan smiled and a blush warmed his caramel cheeks.
“So what kind of party is this?” Zenovia asked when Tristan closed his door and pulled out from the parking spot.
“It’s not a party really, just a get-together. Some of my parents’ friends, Mia’s folks, and a few other people.”
Zenovia ventured, “Is Mia your girlfriend?”
“Mia? No. We’re just friends. I’m not going to date anyone until I get ready for marriage. I’m too busy serving God to worry about girls.”
Zenovia raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond. Tristan seemed so cool until he started talking about the Brethren of the Sacrifice. When he talked about his faith, he became serious and seemed much older than his seventeen years. His zeal impressed Zenovia, even if she wasn’t sure about his beliefs.
Finally, they pulled up to Charlotte and Thomas’s home. Zenovia gasped with a combination of awe and envy. It was a two-story colonial with beige vinyl siding. The lawn was meticulously landscaped and in addition to the silver minivan, the two-car garage boasted two luxury cars.
Zenovia looked back at Audrey whose face wore a similar expression to her own. Zenovia knew what her mother was thinking. It was the kind of home they could only dream about.
“Come on in!” Charlotte sang as they approached the house.
Charlotte hugged Audrey and Zenovia. Audrey said, “Thank you so much for inviting us.”
“Oh, this is nothing! Tristan, take Zenovia downstairs.”
Tristan led Zenovia to the finished basement rec room. “Zee’s here, y’all.”
Alyssa and Mia said, “Hi!”
Kyle looked up from his conversation with another young man that Zenovia did not know. “Hey, Zee.”
The other young man stood up and shook Zenovia’s hand. “I’m Tristan and Alyssa’s older brother Justin.”
“Um h-hi. I’m Zenovia,” she stammered.
“I know.”
Zenovia was caught off guard by his voice. He looked about nineteen or twenty, but his voice was deep and smooth. He pronounced each of his words slowly and deliberately. His chocolate-colored complexion and dark features made his presence overwhelming. Zenovia could hardly breathe from the overload of pheromones.
“You got here just in time,” Mia said, “We were just about to start practicing salsa dancing.”
“Salsa dancing.” Zenovia’s response was as much a question as it was a statement. What black teenagers danced the salsa?
Tristan laughed. “She thinks we’re strange y’all. Some Brethren from the Spanish-speaking congregation on the west side invited us to a wedding reception.”
“I think I’ll just watch,” Zenovia said as she sat down on the plaid sofa next to Kyle.
Kyle said, “I don’t blame you.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Mia teased. “He’s a square.”
Tristan turned on the Spanish music and the foursome started dancing. The siblings were very good; swiveling their hips and stepping in time to the music. Mia was embarrassingly bad. She crushed Justin’s toes, while Kyle and Zenovia laughed.
Justin grabbed Zenovia’s hand. “You think you can do better?”
“I know I can,” she replied with a gulp.
Justin and Zenovia danced together fluidly. So well, in fact, that everyone else stopped to watch them. Zenovia spied a momentary look of jealousy on Tristan’s face, but then he was all smiles. When the song ended, Zenovia fell backward onto the couch, exhausted.
“I thought you couldn’t dance,” Tristan said.
Zenovia responded between gasps, “Didn’t… say that. I didn’t want… to show you guys up.”
Everyone laughed at the joke. Zenovia felt herself getting comfortable with her new friends. She’d never belonged to a group of any kind, and it felt good.
Too good to be true.
Instinctively, she wanted to check on Audrey. She wanted to make sure that her mother wasn’t upstairs with the adults breaking down and ruining h
er chances at being a normal teenager.
“All that dancing has made me hungry. Is there anything to eat?” Zenovia asked.
Alyssa answered. “Of course. Come on, Mia, let’s go get some food.”
“Alyssa, can you fix my plate?” That was Justin, the Barry White sound-alike.
“Me, too,” Tristan chirped.
Kyle added. “There’s three women. How about each one fix a man a plate.”
“Um, what?” Zenovia asked. “First of all, I only see one almost man. The other two are boys. Second of all, I’m not making anybody’s plate unless they’re my husband.”
“Well, you go girl,” Mia said with three snaps of her finger. “While you’re being all liberated, Alyssa and I will fix their food.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m with Zee,” Alyssa chuckled.
Tristan stood up. “Zee’s right. I don’t need a girl to get my food. I’m a grown man.”
“I think Zee said you were a boy, and perhaps I’m the almost man,” Justin said.
Justin also stood to his feet and walked over to the girls. He tipped Zenovia’s chin upward and said, “I like you. You’re a little fireball.”
Zenovia scrunched her nose, unsure if that was a compliment. “Thank you… I think.”
Upstairs, the adults were already eating the hearty appetizers. The young people filled their plates with buffalo wings, meatballs, and shrimp dip with crackers. Tristan reached into a cooler and extended a can of pop to Zenovia.
“Will you accept a beverage from a man?” he asked.
Zenovia narrowed her eyes playfully. “Sure,” she replied and then took the can of pop that Justin was holding.
“Oooh… little brother. She got you again,” Justin laughed.
Tristan joined in the laughter. “Okay, Zee! I concede defeat.”
Zenovia smiled and peeked into the living room where the adults were sitting. She let out a sigh of relief when she noticed that Audrey was having a good time. One of the men that Zenovia remembered from the Devotion Center was saying something that Audrey found quite amusing. She was giggling, tossing her hair, and touching the man’s arm in a very flirtatious manner. He absolutely did not mind.
In the Midst of It All Page 2
