“They believe I cheated on Jackie.”
Mom sputters. I’m not sure if she’s going toward indignant or unhappy tears, but I reach for her hand, hoping to stave off either extreme.
“I’m okay. Val knows what really happened.” Still, I have no clue if she trusts my version or not.
All I got last night was a text she made it home. This morning, she simply voice texted, “I hope to see you at church.” No mentionof us talking later on or if she’s still processing. I want to respect her wishes and let her have the space to absorb the information, but I also want to know if we’re truly good. Did the truth change anything between us?
“It’s not fair.” Mom sighs.
“Life’s not.” Because if it were, I’d still have the same vision as last year.
Mom makes a snuffling noise that doesn’t sound like true tears, so I let go of her hand. She’ll be fine once she realizes Val and I are.I hope we are.
We arrive at the church, and I’m ready to crawl out of my skin. What I wouldn’t give to be back on the ice and feel the freedom of the wind rushing past me. Just the thought alone settles some of my nerves.
Mom hooks her arm through mine, and we walk forward. My footing is a little unsure, making me want to hide from the crowd. I can’t wait for the day when I can just walk without wanting to flinch at things coming my way or move to the side, thinking something is there that’s not. Should I ask Mom to call out any obstacles? Do I let go of the pride preventing me from asking for more help, so I don’t fall and humiliate myself in front of the Elliott family?
Like anyone will be watching you.
“This seems like a big church,” Mom whispers.
“Does anyone look famous? I don’t want to stand out.”
She chuckles. “I think I just saw a senator, so I’m sure you’re okay.”
My shoulders relax. If I’m not the only semi-famous person, then I’ll be fine. “Any sign of Val?”
“No. But I imagine we won’t find her in this crowd.”
She quiets as a greeter welcomes us and hands her a paper.
“What does it say?” I ask.
“It looks like announcements and has some Bible verses on it.”
She leads us toward the back to sit. I’m totally not conscious ofmy surroundings. Instead, my mind is a mix of questions. Churches have announcements? For what? I want to ask Mom, but instead I remember an app I downloaded that will read whatever it scans. Grabbing my AirPods, I whisper a command into my phone and then ask Mom for the paper. A voice in my ear tells me about the spring picnic coming up, the worship tent service they’ll do at the National Mall, volunteer opportunities at local shelters, and other events.
I’m surprised by how much is going on in March, but in a good way. They don’t seem to be one of those churches that are all talk and no action.
“Jabari Hall?”
I look up at the sound of my name, but I can’t make out the face in front of me. Hiding my embarrassment, I come to a stand. “Hi.” I hold out my hand and another man shakes it.
“What are you doing here?”
The voice is wholly unfamiliar. Since I can’t tell who’s talking to me, I go with a broad answer. “I heard about the service and thought I’d check it out.”
“Who invited you?”
I turn to Mom, silently begging her to read my mind and interject.
“Hi, I’m his mom, Paula.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Isaac Harper.”
Dread pulls into my stomach. Jackie’s husband? Great, no telling what he thinks about me.
“Oh, have we met before?” Mom asks.
