“She likes her privacy, Serena,” my dad says.
I say a silent thank you to my father. My childhood bedroom still has my old furniture, but now there’s a crib for when my sister’s kids visit. Of course, her bedroom is still the same.
We remain silent until we arrive at the church. We’ve always attended this one, but my parents aren’t overly religious. They show up for all the religious holidays and a handful of other occasions throughout the year.
Church is the last place I want to be today, but it’s a family affair. My parents would be upset if I didn’t come to my nephew’s christening, especially since I missed the last one.
Micah is my sister’s third child, and I was there for the first baptism, but she complained so much about my missing the second that I had to block her number for two months. It was the best two months of my life, but there’s no way I could miss this event since I’m home.
Dad lets Mom and me out of the car before he searches for a parking space. The church is full, and my sister, her husband,and their kids are at the front. She already has a pinched look on her face as she waves us over.
She’s holding three-month-old Micah in her arms. He’s fast asleep and dressed all in white. She slowly hands him to her husband, then hugs me and Mom.
“You’re late,” she chastises, “but you both look nice. Although you should be wearing a dress, Mom.”
“I’m fifty-five years old,” my mom says. “I will wear whatever the hell I want.”
“Go, Mom,” I whisper.
She winks at me.
My sister, Sylvie, gasps and gives her husband a look. He looks at my mother, his brow furrowed in disapproval, but I cackle at my mom’s sass. My sister should know better than to try to tell Mom what to do.
Levar’s mother, Philomena Gaston, gives us a tight smile, one I don’t return. She’s never liked our family, and I think it’s because she’s always looked down on us.
Philomena strokes her bleached blonde hair and glances down at her sleeping grandson, but makes no move to touch him. She doesn’t even smile at the baby. She elbows Levar, and he gives the baby back to Sylvie. Then his mother wraps her arm through his as if she owns him.
Levar has his father’s height and most of his facial features, but he’s a perfect combination of his mother’s pale skin and his father’s dark tone. He’s of average height, like his father was, but lacks his warmth and has inherited his mother’s cold and often mean demeanor.
“Hi, Auntie,” my niece, Eva, says. She’s a tiny seven-year-old. She smiles at me, revealing one missing front tooth. I give her a hug, and when I sit down, she puts her hand in mine. I lean down and kiss the top of her head.
Her four-year-old brother, Timothy, sits on the other side of the pew next to my dad. I notice Cori and Selene sitting a few pews before me. Selene waves wildly, but Cori elbows her in the ribs.
The church is full, which is unsurprising. This is a small town, and everyone shows up for events like these. I pay no attention to the service. Instead, I think of the long, grueling week ahead of me at work.
Four other families are here to baptize their babies, but I only pay attention when it’s my nephew’s turn. My sister stands at the altar with her husband and another couple, who I assume will be the godparents. I have no idea who they are, but I’m sure Levar and his family picked them.
Thankfully, the service ends after an hour, and we spill out to the front of the church. I’m holding Eva’s hand while I look for my friends.
“Hey!” Sylvie yells. She pushes her stroller toward us and runs her hand over Eva’s head. “I’ll see you guys at the house?”
I nod.
“Be good for your auntie,” she says to my niece, who smiles and waves at her mother. “Don’t fill her head about life in the big city.”
Sylvie chuckles as if it’s a joke, but I don’t laugh along with her.
“It’s okay to leave your zip code once in a while, Sylvie,” I say.
“And I guess it’s okay to come back home and move in with your parents, too.” She smirks as if she got me.
“Yeah, it is, especially when you have an education and career to fall back on.” That shuts her up.
She purses her lips together, but she doesn’t walk away. When Cori and Selene join us, Sylvie gives them a tight smile and a disinterested hello.
“After the reception, you guys should come by my place,” Selene says. “I’ll mix some drinks.” Then she gives me a subtle wink, which I know means she’s going to light up a blunt, too.
“Are you three still hanging out like you did in high school?” Sylvie laughs, but she’s not trying to be funny. She’s being dismissive.
