Looking back over this memory brought Grammy misty eyes and a heart that grieved. She wondered how in this world could that quiet, sweet, adorable little girl have turned into the angry, rebellious, and hateful young woman she was now.
As she continued her breakfast preparations of Happy Face Pancakes for her granddaughter, Grammy threw up a quick prayer that the Lord would give her strength and help today. She knew instinctively that there would be a battle of wills once Awesome Beau… Awsty… got up this morning. She didn’t know what form it would take, but it would be something worthy of airing on the tv morning news. Grammy grinned without meaning to when she realized she had the perfect title for the human interest piece… “Grandmother and Granddaughter Battle to the Death.”
Chapter 7
At eight-forty-five, Grammy looked over the breakfast table, already set and read to serve up the Happy Face Pancakes. She’d used brightly-color napkins and tablecloth, poured Awsty’s glass of orange juice and another of milk. Then, she turned and walked out the kitchen door, straight to Awsty’s room.
“Awsty?” She winced a bit when she called through the closed door. Her throat had been getting more and more sore since she woke up, until it was really miserable at this moment. It actually hurt to speak. But, how could she insist Awsty go to church services, if she didn’t go herself? In expectation of more pain, she swallowed, but rather than calling out again, she knocked on the guest room door. When there was still no response, Grammy knocked and called out, “Awsty?” Still no answer.
Opening the door, Grammy used her morning quiet voice. “Awsty, your breakfast’s ready, Sweetheart. And, we’ll need to be ready and out the door in another twenty-five minutes. You can come eat your breakfast first, if you want, then get dressed for church afterward.”
In a voice that sounded rather fake to Grammy, Awsty answered in a gravely whisper, “I can’t go this morning, Grammy. My throat is killing me. I’m just gonna stay in bed today, and maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow, so that I can start making some job-search plans.” Even as she continued, her voice started sounding normal. “Oh, and of course, I need to look into the community college classes, too. And, I can’t eat a bite.” When she realized she was speaking in a normal voice, Awsty reverted back to the fake sick voice. “I can’t eat any breakfast. My throat hurts too bad.”
Grammy’s response was immediate. “Oh, that’s a shame you can’t eat. I made ya the Happy Face Pancakes ya loved as a kid. Well, believe it or not, my throat hurts pretty bad this mornin’ too. I didn’t even make any of the pancakes fer m’self. I figured I wouldn’t be able ta swallow ‘em. I’ll go get the sore throat liquid out o’ the medicine cabinet and we’ll both take a spoon of it ‘fore we leave. The good news is that the church is actually warmer inside than it is here.”
In a voice that had no trace of sore-throat issues and far too loud and strong, Awsty half-yelled at her grandmother, “I’m too sick. I’m not going today.”
“Oh, sure y’are. Ya can just wear a sweater over yer clothes and you’ll be fine. I’ll even take some throat lozenges that we can share durin’ the service. Here, I’ll help ya into yer clothes. We’ll just sorta lean on each other today. I think both of us will need a nap this afternoon, though.”
Awsty was seething inside, but could see that no matter what, she wasn’t going to win this one, so she simply belted out, “I can dress myself. I’ll be out in ten minutes!” And with that curt response, she said with steely eyes and set jaw, “Close the door on your way out… please.”
As Grammy closed Awsty’s door, she breathed a sigh of relief. She had thought the exchange would be a lot more vicious on Awsty’s part. Ugly comments spat out with no thought as to the hurt they would cause Grammy. Oh, Grammy didn’t doubt Awsty was livid right now and probably fantasizing all kinds of death-scenarios for her grandmother as she dressed, but at least the air hadn’t turned blue with the filthy expletives she was quite sure Awsty thought in her head while they conversed.
Whew! One battle down and how many more to go… just today?!
*****
Awsty took great care in putting herself together for morning services at Open Door of Faith. She was angry that she had essentially lost the encounter with Grammy this morning. But, she’d make her pay! Boy, would she ever make her pay!
It took a couple minutes for Awsty to think through the best execution of this morning’s plan. She’d be staying home all right, and it would be at Grammy’s insistence. Grammy’s move thus far had produced a check, but Awsty knew her final strategy would create the checkmate.
When her teeth were brushed and face washed, she returned to her room, wearing a grin born of evil. Wait until Grammy saw her when she came out. She took a look at her bed, still unmade, and spoke softly to it. “Standby, Mr. Cozy Bed, I’ll be back with you for some quality time in about…” She looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table, then completed the statement, “… twenty minutes. We’ll get to know each other real good today. It’s a promise!”
*****
Grammy was dressed and sitting on the old, worn sofa. She had the tacky old afghan thrown over her spindly little legs. She always wore a dress to church. She knew a lot of women wore pants, but she wasn’t one of them. The one disadvantage, though, she’d have to admit, is that her legs were almost always chilly, except when she sat in the worship center. They kept the huge twenty-five hundred seat room at the perfect temperature. Warm enough that a person knew they’d be comfortable during the service, but not warm enough that it made the congregation drift off into a drowsy sleep. She was anxious to get there this morning, because of both the warmth and the realization that her precious granddaughter would be there with her. It was going to be a memorable day!
When Awsty came into the living room, Grammy was looking down at her beloved Bible, reading a few encouraging words to ready her spirit for this morning’s Bible teaching.
“Grammy,” Awsty sullenly said, “I’m ready.”
Grammy looked up and in one very quick summation, she replied, “Ok, Sweetheart, let’s go.” Awsty looked momentarily confused, but quickly set her face again to the steely coldness she had worn ever since Grammy summoned her to get up and get dressed for church.
Wait a minute! You’re looking right at me! Don’t you see what I’m wearing? What about my makeup? And all my chains? Put your glasses on, you blind old woman! Take it all in!
Almost a minute passed, and Awsty stood totally still throughout, staring at her grandmother, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But none did, and when she saw that she had no choice but to follow Grammy out the front door, she said curtly, “I’m gonna grab a couple of the Happy Face Pancakes and eat them while we walk.” However, before she even could turn and take one step toward the kitchen, Grammy quietly said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Sweetheart, since there was no time for ya ta sit and enjoy ‘em, and yer throat hurt anyway, I threw ‘em out. Maybe I can make ‘em for ya next Sunday before church services.”
Not a word of response came from Awsty’s lips, but inside… she was screaming at the top of her lungs!
Chapter 8
Awsty was so angry that Grammy had won this morning, that she wouldn’t say one word all the way to the ginormous church that Awsty didn’t remember being so huge. It almost looked like a self-contained city. And, in a way, it was… a spiritual city. Or at least to Grammy, it was.
Frankly, after waving back to a couple of church friends who waved to her from their cars as they hurried past the two of them on their way to worship the Lord, Grammy was thrilled to have total silence during their brisk walk. It gave her three blocks to mentally process the shock that engulfed her when anything-but-an Awesome Beauty resurfaced from her bedroom.
Dressed totally in black, she looked like something from a nightmare. Without looking over at her, Grammy was able to remember every detail of Awsty’s appearance.
She wore knee-high lace up black platform boots with four inch heels. They had fi
re engine red laces up the back from ankle to almost the bend of her knee. It was the only color in her whole “ensemble.” They were ugly and garish, and looked like they should be worn by a…, a…, what was the term she was looking for? She knew of one, actually two terms, but couldn’t bring herself to say them, even in her head. Uh… “lady of the evening.” That would have to do. They were trashy, but paired with black see-through stockings with a black seem up the back, they were downright vulgar. And, of course, there was a run up the outside of one leg, reaching to mid-thigh. It was totally visible, too, because of the shortness of the black skirt, which was a good six inches above her knees. Moving further up, the black long-sleeved top was relatively non-distinct in its styling, but there were silver chains looped from every single buttonhole or pocket to any other buttonhole or pocket that the chain had enough length to reach and hook to. It was a wonder Awsty could hold herself up under the weight of all the metal dripping from her clothing, as well as the one chain that hooked through her right nostril and looped to her right earlobe. The only remaining accessory to Awsty’s ensemble was the spiked dog chain that encircled her beautiful long slender neck. It was so tightly attached, that there was a small amount of skin-puckering around both the top and bottom of the “adornment.”
Unfortunately, the horror didn’t end with the clothing features. Once one had perused her from foot to neck, and back down out of sheer disbelief of her clothing selection, the worst was still to come.
Awsty’s face had a death pallor to it, born of the application of both pale white cake makeup and the same color (or lack thereof) in face powder. Once the sight of her black lips smacked the onlooker’s senses, the final assault were her eyes and eyebrows. Awsty’s eyebrows were thick and the color of midnight blackness. But, the eyes… oh, the eyes! A thick application of dark charcoal eyeshadow covered her lids, and made her look like she had a skeleton’s open eye sockets. Grammy wasn’t sure if Awsty had applied the shadow underneath her eyes on purpose, or if it had accidentally smeared in those areas.
The sight of Awsty’s hair broke Grammy’s heart. What was once long silky rich brown, was now black… blacker than black. However, it was the style that was even more of an affront. Awsty had changed out her spikey hair for another style. Did Awsty think this was an improvement?
Grammy figured Awsty must have washed her hair sometime between arriving at the apartment and now, because the spikes were gone. But, what was left was no better. Her hair hung in a long slicked-down matted mess that looked as though it had been ironed to her skull. Her ears poked through like they were peeking through the strands, trying to find a way of escape. And, if Grammy wasn’t mistaken, she had about one-half inch of hair at her hair part that was kind of auburn… or red?
Only once did Grammy look full-on at Awsty on their pilgrimage to the usually anticipated doors that wooed those who would, to come in and celebrate Jesus. Actually, she acted as though she was looking past Awsty at the beautifully-flowering azaleas that bloomed in a yard on her grandaughter’s side of the sidewalk.
Oh, yeah! She knew there had been more hideousness to Awsty’s appearance! The long, pointed black fingernails. But her stomach actually rolled at the final assault. She had forgotten the… oh, why would she do that?… the… why would she mutilate herself like that?… and it’s undoable… the gigantic hole in her stretched left earlobe, with that hideous medallion suspended within. Awesome Beauty, how could ya do that ta yerself?!
Well, there was one thing Grammy knew for sure. No, actually two things. One, Awsty had “groomed” herself this way on purpose to shock Grammy, resulting in what she hoped would result in definitive instructions to stay home until she could groom herself properly and modestly to go into the Lord’s House. Two, she would let Awsty think she didn’t even notice anything offbeat (read freaky or bazaar) about her appearance. She would march into the church with Awsty and introduce her to everybody she knew, as though she were the proudest grandmother in the whole world.
And, that’s exactly what she did.
Chapter 9
“Hello, Grace. Hi, Eddy. This is my granddaughter, Aweso… Awsty. Awsty, these ‘re Mr. and Mrs. Garner.”
In response to the introduction, Awsty did not speak a word. She simply set her jaw, clamped her mouth shut, and uncrossed her arms only long enough to made one brisk wave of her hand to them, then re-crossed.
“Glad to meet you, Aw..sty…” said Grace, with a confused look on her face. She reached out to shake Awsty’s hand, but Awsty was unresponsive, so she further extended her hand to pat Awsty’s arm. Awsty, however, actually backed off, so that Grace couldn’t complete the gesture. Then, she began an active perusal of the sanctuary, or what Grammy called “the worship center.” Eddy had smiled at her, but Awsty chose not to even look at him. Grammy might be able to make her come to church this morning, but she couldn’t make her talk to anyone, or be pleasant… at all!
Grace and Eddy moved off to seek out seats in the front few rows, as they quickly gave Grammy one of those all-understanding looks. Grammy knew they did understand, too. Their daughter, Tricia, had been rebellious, and had gotten caught up in a cult. They didn’t know exactly where she was during that time, so they had recruited a group of close friends to spend time with them in prayer. They met weekly there at the church in a room down the north wing, where they pled the blood of Christ over this young girl. Nine years later, Tricia was now married to the music director at that very church, heading up a small group of high school girls in a weekly Bible study, and raising two sons and a young daughter to love Jesus. Grace and Eddy knew the power of prayer, so it was not lost on Grammy when Grace shot her “the look,” the one that said “I’ll continue to pray for Awesome Beauty. You have my promise.” Grace knew Awsty’s real name, and had, for years. Grammy had recruited she and Eddy at about the same time they recruited her intercessory prayer. They knew of Grammy’s drug-enslaved daughter, and had cried copious amounts of tears right along with Grammy when her daughter had died last June.
There were more introductions, which did nothing more than anger Awsty further. Amazingly enough, she was embarrassed by her own appearance. She wasn’t supposed to even be here this morning. The very reason she had dressed as she had was so that Grammy would make her stay home. She knew very good and well that she wasn’t dressed appropriately, and the more Grammy brought her up to people to introduce her to them, the more Awsty fumed inside. She hated this church and all the hypocrites in it!
Leaning close to Grammy, Awsty whispered ungraciously to her, “Are we ever going to sit down?!”
Grammy, in her typical gracious way, answered, “Why, ‘o course, Sweetheart. I usually sit right up there,” as she pointed up the middle aisle, just three rows back from the front. Awsty couldn’t believe her grandmother was going to make her walk all that way in front of people. Her calculations were in the neighborhood of some twelve- to fifteen hundred sets of eyes that were bearing down on her back as she walked toward the sanctuary front seats. She looked trashy, and she knew it. This was painful beyond anything she could ever imagine. It was her own fault, but Awsty would never admit it… not to anyone! Each time this fact tried to pry its way into her thinking, she immediately brushed it aside with new imagined thoughts of how Grammy did this to her on purpose to humiliate her, but she wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. She again (for the thousandth time) set her jaw, squinted her eyes, and looked over at her grandmother with the most hateful face she could muster. Grammy knew she shouldn’t, but she was a bit feisty herself. So, when Awsty gave her “the look” almost immediately after sitting down, she simply smiled at Awsty, reaching over to pat her leg. She thought about putting her arm around Awsty’s shoulder, since she was captive in her almost- in-the-front seat, but she figured she’d be pushing it. Frankly, she was just a bit fragile herself and knew that if Awsty jerked herself away, she would just be heartbroken. It was one thing to push the envelope, but she would be a downright dare
devil if she crossed the line here. Better let it go with the pat.
As the service began and the congregation was asked to stand to sing a praise chorus, Awsty decided she wasn’t going to cooperate. She didn’t want to, and she wasn’t going to! Grammy could make her come this morning, but she couldn’t make her do some things, like stand up and sing. She slouched even further down into her seat with crossed arms and set her jaw with jutted out chin.
Grammy wasn’t sure what to do about Awsty’s unresponsive attitude. Should she jerk her up by the arm? Should she sit down next to her and remain seated next to her, verbally prodding her to get up until she was embarrassed enough by Grammy’s behavior that she stood up just to shut her grandmother up? Or, should she remind herself that Awsty was a twenty-one year old woman who had complied with her grandmother’s directive to attend Sunday church services. There had been no rules about whether or not she participated in the service. She opted for her third choice. Let her alone, as long as she wasn’t causing any disruption during the service.
Once the singing, the prayer, and the offering were completed, Awsty positively responded to the service for the first time that morning.
Some soulful music had begun by the orchestra. No one sang. Wouldn’t have mattered if they did, she wouldn’t have sung, today or ever! But, what happened maybe thirty seconds into it stunned, then mesmerized her.
Becoming His Awesome Beauty: Volume 1 Page 3
