In the Midst of It All

by Tiffany L. Warren

  Just as she got ready to roll her eyes at Tristan, Zenovia was thrust into an unexpected vision.

  The young man waits impatiently in the rain. He stands in a dark alley, partially to shield him from the elements, but also to hide him from the passersby. His black trench coat renders him virtually invisible, and only the glint of his gold watch signals his presence.

  He looks down at the expensive timepiece and sighs. Just as he seems ready to give up on his mission, a woman appears in the shadows. Her coat is red patent leather and clings to every voluptuous curve on her body. She, unlike her partner, is not trying to hide her existence from the world.

  The young man smiles hungrily upon seeing his partner. They grab and claw at one another in a desperate embrace. She smears her strawberry-red lipstick on his face with her messy kisses. Tears of joy form in both their eyes that commingle with the falling raindrops.

  Just across the street, another kind of teardrops fall. A young woman clutches the wedding band on her finger as she watches the apparent lovers. With no alley to shield her from the rain, she just stands there—drenched. Not only by the thunderstorm, but by her own sorrowful tears.

  Zenovia blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to rush down her face. The woman in her vision had been heartbroken or would be in the future; Zenovia wasn’t sure which. She had no idea of the identities of either woman—neither the sobbing wife nor the sexy vixen.

  She did, however, know the identity of the young man in her vision. He was standing in front of the Brethren, wrapping up his forty-five minute lecture about blessings.

  Zenovia could almost see the streaks of lipstick on his face and neck. She felt a shiver rip through her body.

  The always perceptive Audrey whispered, “You are going to have to learn how to play it off better than you do.”

  Even though Audrey had not been specific, Zenovia did not need clarification on the observation. Zenovia was always visibly rattled by her visions, but Audrey would go on as if life had not just skipped a beat and a half.

  Though she was still feeling the forlorn misery of the wife in her vision, Zenovia refused to let a tear fall. Just in case Tristan was looking her way and just in case he thought she was sad due to his lack of courtesy.

  After the regional meeting ended, everyone had their share of unnecessary chitchat. This included the young people, many of whom came up to Zenovia to offer congratulatory words of encouragement.

  When she got tired of smiling and nodding, Zenovia pulled on her sweater and went outside to the parking lot. She trudged over to Tristan’s car and waited for her friends to join her.

  Justin was the first to appear. “Hey, Zee. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” She punctuated her reply with a breathless sigh.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Justin leaned on the car next to Zenovia. “Well, clearly there is something wrong, and you telling me nothing is merely an invitation for me to figure out what it is.”

  “There were way too many words in that sentence.” Zenovia ignored the sudden warmth from where Justin’s arm brushed against her own. “I’m going to need you to rephrase that mess.”

  “Did Tristan do something wrong?”

  Zenovia’s response came after an obvious and transparent pause. “No. I’m cool.”

  “He did do something! It’s always Tristan. What did Boy Wonder do this time?”

  “It was nothing really. Now that I think about it, I probably overreacted.”

  Justin laughed. “Why don’t you tell me what it was?”

  “We were on our way to lunch, and Tristan offered me his jacket because I was cold. Kyle warned him that someone might see, and then he took back his offer.” Zenovia gave the abbreviated version.

  “He just let you be cold?”

  “Um… no. I came back inside.”

  Justin’s widened eyes locked with Zenovia’s. “So you didn’t go to lunch?”

  “No.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Why,” Zenovia asked with a smile, “do you have food?”

  Justin reached into his briefcase and pulled out a slightly damaged apple Danish. Zenovia salivated as Justin ripped open the paper, allowing the sweet aroma to tease her nostrils.

  He tore off a piece. “Open wide.”

  “I can feed myself,” Zenovia objected.

  “Do you want it?”

  Zenovia nodded.

  Justin bit his bottom lip and repeated slowly, “Then… open wide.”

  Zenovia formed her lips into the shape of an O. Justin placed the small piece of buttery Danish into her mouth. She shivered as he grazed his thumb against her bottom lip. Zenovia hoped that was an accident, because if it wasn’t, Justin was shamelessly moving in on his brother’s unclaimed territory.

  “Want more?” he asked.

  Zenovia quickly shook her head. The whole exchange was unsettling. It made her feel like she was not being faithful. She prided herself on being faithful and loyal.

  Justin continued, “You full, Zee? From that one little bite?”

  She did not get a chance to respond, because Tristan and Kyle approached the car. Tristan wore an apologetic smile on his face. As much as she wanted to roll her eyes, Zenovia could not help but smile back.

  “Zee! I didn’t know you were out here. We were inside, looking all over for you.”

  “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble,” Zee replied with a gallon of sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

  Tristan’s gaze traveled to the point of intersection on Zenovia and Justin’s bodies. His expression held questions that Zenovia had no intention of answering. Justin must have also discerned the unspoken clues because he stood from his post on Tristan’s car and tossed Zenovia the rest of the pastry.

  “Enjoy!” he said in a chipper tone, with none of his usual flirtatious undertones. He saved those for when no one was around.

  Tristan asked his brother, “Are you coming back home? We’re having a get-together to celebrate Zee’s baptism.”

  “Maybe later. I have a date.”

  “With who?” asked Kyle.

  “Shanna, and her parents.”

  Kyle high-fived Justin. “My man!”

  “Shanna is the white girl?” asked Tristan.

  Justin shook his head. “She’s not white. She’s Latina.”

  Zenovia shook her head and chuckled. Justin asked, “You got a problem with interracial dating, Zee?”

  “No, dude. Whatever floats your boat.”

  Tristan opened the car door for Zenovia, and she climbed into the backseat. She pretended to check her hair and lip gloss in the rearview mirror, but she really wanted to watch Justin as he swaggered his way across the parking lot.

  Without a doubt, his fineness was excessive.

  Finally Tristan and Kyle jumped into the front seat of the car. Tristan asked, “Is pizza okay? That’s what we ordered. And the girls went to get a cassata cake from Barcelli’s Bakery.”

  “You didn’t have to do all of this, Tristan.” Zenovia felt guilty for lusting after Justin when Tristan was being so kind.

  Tristan turned around in his seat. “Of course I did. You’re my friend, and you just made the best decision of your life.”

  Chapter Seven

  Although the party was no surprise to Zenovia, she did not anticipate the number of teenagers who would be crammed into Tristan’s basement. As they descended the stairs, the loud music rattled the handrail as did the stomps of one hundred feet executing the Electric Slide.

  At the center of the crowd were Alyssa and Mia. Alyssa spiced up the line dance with a few exotic hip gyrations while Mia could barely keep up with the basic steps. Zenovia wanted to join in, but she felt that dancing provocatively would be quite ironic since she’d just taken a dip in the baptism pool.

  Zenovia said to Tristan, “I didn’t know that this was going to be a house party.”

  “Well, y
ou know how word of mouth is!” Tristan replied as he waved to some girls beckoning to him from across the room.

  “I guess.”

  Tristan bobbed his head to the music and asked, “You wanna dance?”

  “I’m good. I’m going for snacks.”

  Kyle cosigned, “Me, too. I saw some pizza upstairs.”

  “Lead the way, my brotha.”

  Zenovia followed Kyle to the kitchen and they both grabbed plates full of food. Then they moved to the living room couch to eat in a semi-quiet environment.

  After practically swallowing a chicken wing whole, Kyle cleared his throat and said, “Sorry about earlier, Zee. It was nothing personal.”

  “What was nothing personal?” She assumed that he was referring to the whole lunch incident, but wanted to make sure.

  “You know, when I told Tristan not to give you his jacket.”

  Zenovia nodded slowly. “Okay, apology accepted. But can I at least get an explanation?”

  “Well, Tristan is planning to volunteer for mission work at the Brethren headquarters as soon as we graduate,” Kyle explained. “And he has to stay chaste if he wants to do that.”

  “What exactly is not chaste about letting me borrow his jacket?”

  “Nothing. But he doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. I mean, you’re new to the faith. You haven’t been raised in it, and there’s a…” Kyle paused as if he was searching for a tactful way to say something ignorant.

  Zenovia took it straight to the hood and gave Kyle a serious neck roll. “There’s a what?”

  “An adjustment period. I mean, it’s unspoken, but the Holy Spirit has to purify you of any… improper lusts.”

  Zenovia nearly choked on her laugh. “Boy, quit playing. You can’t be serious.”

  “If people had seen you wearing Tristan’s jacket, some would’ve assumed that you were seducing him.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want anyone thinking that.”

  “Tristan’s future depends on it.”

  Zenovia cocked her head to one side and digested Kyle’s words. He seemed so concerned about Tristan’s reputation and Tristan’s future. She was starting to think that maybe Kyle was her competition and not Mia.

  She asked, “And what about your future? What are you going to be doing when Tristan becomes a missionary?”

  “I’ll get a job, get married. The usual.”

  “Don’t you want to be a missionary too?”

  “Well, of course. But they’d never accept me. My family doesn’t have enough clout.”

  Kyle quickly stood up and walked toward the kitchen, but not before Zenovia noticed the pain on his face. She understood his anger. She’d also been prejudged and excluded because of her young, husbandless, and schizophrenic mother.

  “Kyle, not everyone has two parents, a nice house, and a family dog.”

  “You’re right.” Kyle smirked. “But wouldn’t it be nice to be on the right side of the tracks?”

  Zenovia did not reply, mostly because Kyle’s dark expression made her think it was a rhetorical question. After a few moments, she went back downstairs to join the party. It did not take long to find Tristan in the crowd. He and Alyssa were dancing in the center of a huge circle of teenagers who were chanting, “Go, Tristan… go, Lyssa” to the beat of the loud rap music.

  Zenovia marveled at how chaste he looked.

  When the song was over, the crowd dispersed, and went back to one-on-one dancing. Tristan smiled at Zenovia and waved for her to come over. She declined with a tight head shake and found a seat close to the door—in case lightning decided to strike the holy Brethren partygoers.

  Sitting back and observing from afar was more Zenovia’s style anyway. She watched as Mia chatted with Tristan, her hands doing more talking than her lips. But Tristan seemed only partially engaged as he made brief eye contact with Mia before scanning the room for perhaps a more interesting conversant.

  Zenovia’s attention shifted toward Kyle as he attempted to learn a dance step from Alyssa. He was a pitiful dancer. So bad, in fact, that Zenovia placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles.

  “What are you laughing at?” Justin whispered. Zenovia had been so busy observing from afar, that she had not noticed him sit down behind her.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know. Where’s your date?”

  “Her parents wouldn’t let her come to a party. They’re really strict.”

  Zenovia gave a faux expression of sadness. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “You’re so phony.” Justin chuckled.

  “I am not,” she said defensively. “I was so looking forward to meeting her.”

  Justin stood from his seat and extended his hand to Zenovia. “Dance with me.”

  “N-no. It’s a slow song.”

  Justin took Zenovia’s hand and gently pulled her from her seat. “So we’ll slow dance.”

  Zenovia felt powerless to refuse. She wanted to protest, but her words turned into a gulp in her throat.

  “Don’t be nervous,” he whispered. “I won’t freak on you.”

  Zenovia swallowed her giggle and let Justin lead her to the dance floor. He took her right hand in his left and placed his right hand high on her back. A very modest pose from the immodest Justin. Zenovia completed the stance by placing her left hand on his shoulder.

  “Ready?” Justin asked.

  She nodded her response and Justin swayed them back and forth. He tried to maintain eye contact with Zenovia, but she quickly looked away from his demanding stare.

  From out of nowhere, Tristan appeared. Well, it wasn’t out of nowhere, but it seemed that way to Zenovia, because, in her mind, the entire room had disappeared when she and Justin had started dancing.

  “Can I cut in, big bro?” Tristan asked.

  Justin replied with a wicked grin. “That’s up to the lady.”

  “Of course he can cut in,” Zenovia hissed.

  Defeated, Justin raised both hands and handed her over to Tristan. Tristan took Zenovia’s hand exactly as Justin had, except that Tristan’s palms were hot and moist. His forehead glistened with perspiration too; the result of his intense dancing.

  Zenovia briefly glanced at Justin who was already engaged in another conversation. He saw her looking and slowly rubbed his thumb across his own bottom lip. Zenovia gave him the evil eye in response. He laughed.

  “I thought you didn’t want to dance,” Tristan said.

  “I didn’t, but Justin is pretty relentless.”

  “And I’m not?”

  Zenovia chose her words carefully. “I guess you are. In some things anyway… the good things.”

  “What does that mean?” Tristan asked. His voice defensively rose an octave and his handsome face tightened into a frown.

  “I just mean that you’re relentless when it comes to serving God, and being a good person.”

  Tristan’s expression softened. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Please do. It’s how it was meant.”

  Tristan suddenly twirled Zenovia in a small circle. Before she could catch her breath, he twirled her again. She felt herself lose balance for a moment, but Tristan steadied her. Then they were back in their groove again, swaying to the music.

  He whispered, “I’m sorry… about earlier.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Seriously,” he said, smiling, “you can wear my jacket anytime you want.”

  His apology was sweet, reassuring, and exactly what Zenovia needed to hear.

  Chapter Eight

  Zenovia peered down at her math test. Her geometric proof did not look quite right, but she was tired of thinking on it. She would come back to the problem when she was done with the rest of the test. Hopefully there would still be time to tweak her response.

  She struggled through the rest of the exam because, unfortunately, she’d spent the entire weekend with the Brethren and hadn’t gotten in much study time. Geometry was actually one of her best subjects, right behi
nd English. Zenovia liked that the problems were more about logic than computation, because critical thinking was one of her strongest traits.

  As she finished up the last problem, Zenovia found herself critically thinking about Justin and Tristan. Although she’d only known him a short time, Tristan was her friend. He cared about her soul’s salvation and her general well-being as long as the someones were okay with it.

  But with Justin, it was pure carnality. He made her heart race and it scared her. She was seventeen going on eighteen and no one had prepared her for sweaty palms and racing heartbeats.

  Zenovia’s teacher, Mr. Benjamin, walked up to her desk with a troubled expression on his face. “Your mother is in the main office,” Mr. Benjamin said as he wrote her a hall pass.

  A sense of dread filled Zenovia’s body as she rushed to the main office. All thoughts of Tristan and Justin took a backseat to this new crisis. There was no telling what emergency had brought Audrey out of their apartment and up to the school.

  To Zenovia’s surprise, Audrey was standing in the office, animatedly chatting to the secretaries. She had apparently just said something funny, because everyone was laughing. Audrey waved her left hand in a sweeping fashion, emphasizing some point with her gesture, and nearly blinded Zenovia with the flash of what looked like a diamond ring.

  “Mom,” Zenovia said interrupting the conversation, “what’s up?”

  “Oh, hey, Zee! I’m signing you out early today. Phillip just asked me to marry him and we’re going out to lunch to celebrate.”

  Zenovia’s mind reeled. She and Audrey had been baptized as Brethren for only two days, and already Audrey was engaged. Things were moving much too quickly for Zenovia’s liking and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it.

  Zenovia sat silently in the car while Audrey and Phillip planned their wedding.

  “I’ve always wanted a wedding, Phillip! And Zenovia can be my maid of honor.”

  “Mom, don’t you think you’re a little old for all that? Y’all just need to go downtown.”

  Or call the whole thing off, thought Zenovia.

  Phillip smiled at Audrey and stroked her cheek. “If my bride wants a wedding, a wedding she’ll get. I’m sure Charlotte and Thomas will let us have our reception in their basement.”