As I walkinto the church, I realize I’ve been running on autopilot. It’s been engrained in me for so long to get up and go to mass, I didn’t even realize I was walking through the doors until I was already in here. I consider walking back out, until I catch sight of my parents sitting in the pew. They’re listening to the sermon, without a worry in the world. Because they don’t know what I know.
Stephen is gone.
Where was God when I was hiding in his bathroom listening to the sounds of his murder? Where was God when I begged and pleaded with him not to take my brother?
As I stand in the back of the cathedral, listening to a priest I’ve known my entire life preach about forgiveness—oh, the irony—all I want to do is scream, “Where was this forgiveness when Stephen was alive?” But I can’t. I don’t even know if my voice could go higher than a whisper.
So instead, I stand in the back quietly, as he wraps up his sermon with a prayer, and think about my mother and everything I’ve learned.
Do I forgive her for the secrets she’s kept from her family? For judging everyone all these years while painting this picture of being the perfect Catholic wife and mother?
My answer is no.
I don’t forgive her.
I can’t.
And now that Stephen is gone, she’s going to have to live with the fact that while he was alive, she not only judged him and made him feel like an outcast, but she lied to him about who his birthfather was. He died believing she didn’t love him and that’s something she will never be able to fix.
I’ve also decided I’m done with this church. I’m done teaching at this school and running the youth group. If my mother is associated with it, I want nothing to do with it.
And while I’m at it, I’m done with God.
My heart constricts at the very thought. God has been a partof my life since I was born. With every decision I’ve made, he’s been who I’ve turned to. Who my parents have taught me to turn to. But no more. I don’t think I want to turn to the man who sat back and watched my brother get killed. My brother may not have been perfect, but he was a good person and didn’t deserve this. So, God and me…we’re on a break, indefinitely.
When I leave here, after I’m done confronting my mother, I’m planning to go back to the police station to see if they’ve found any new information. They can’t possibly expect me to wait around until they realize my brother isn’t on some vacation, but was murdered. There is a man on the loose, a murderer, who has my information and can come after me any time. And this time, I’m not leaving until they tell me they’re going to do something about it.
With one last prayer, everyone stands to leave. I didn’t plan to speak to my mother here. But now, it seems quite fitting. What better place to confront her than in the House of God?
I watch her and my father make their way down the aisle. When she spots me, her brows furrow in confusion, and then her lips purse in disappointment. Good. That was exactly what I was hoping for. My dad stops to talk to a couple he’s friends with, while my mom makes a beeline straight for me.
"Nevaeh,” she hisses. “Where were you? You missed youth group and the service.”
“At home,” I say, refusing to give her anything more. She can find out tomorrow, like everyone else, when I put in my two weeks’ notice. I have no clue what I’m going to do for a job since it’s the middle of the school year, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I’ll do some private tutoring until August and then I’ll apply for a position atone of the public schools.
“Your eyes are all puffy.” She frowns. “Did you drink when you went out with yourfriend?”
Of course she would assume I look bad because I went out a few nights ago, not because there’s something wrong. She’s more concerned about keeping up our reputation than my well-being. I almost blurt out my eyes are puffy because I spent the last two nights crying over my brother’s—her son’s—death, but I don’t. I plan to tell her about Stephen, but I can’t yet. I don’t have all the information. I have no proof. No body. Not even the police believe what I’ve told them.
“I’m not hungover,” I hiss.
“Well then, do you care to explain why you weren’t here when you should’ve been, and when you do show up, you’re dressed like that?” Her entire face contorts into a look of disgust that up until now would’ve sent me running home to change.
I look down at my navy blue wraparound dress. When Blaire bought it for me, I loved it, but once I tried it on and saw how much skin it showed, I knew my mother would never approve, so I’ve never worn it out… until now. It shows enough cleavage and leg to be deemed inappropriate—by my mother’s standards.
I take a calming breath, so I don’t snap at her. I stayed so I could speak to her about what Stephen told me. My brother wouldn’t make something like that up, and while he might not have wanted to confront my mom in fear of destroying our family, he’s no longer alive, and I’m not about to let her secret die with Stephen. My entire life, my mother has been hiding her true colors while forcing me to dim mine. I’m done living in a world of black and white. Stephenwas right. It’s time to live my life for me, and I’m going to make sure my colors shine bright.
Stephen’s last words run through my head and something in me snaps.Life is too short to not be happy, Nevaeh.Starting today…starting this very moment, I’m going to live for me. No more thinking about it. No more telling myself I will start to live soon. I’m going to do what I want and be who I want. Starting now. I’m done being who everybody else wants me to be. I’m done praying to a God who allowed my brother to die. I’m done living my life for a mom who has been keeping secrets and hiding her flaws and imperfections from her family. Judging those around her while keeping her own sins buried so deep underground, nobody stands a chance at digging them out. I’m done. Stephen was right. Life is too short, way too damn short, and I’m going to make sure when I die, I can say I actually lived. And if my mother has a problem with that…well, she can just go you-know-what herself. No! Fuck that. I can say it…or think it…Fuck! She can go fuck herself!
My dad walks over and gives me a kiss on my forehead, and for a split second I almost feel guilty for what I’m about to do.
“Hey, sweetie,” he says. “I missed you this morning. Everything okay?”
Before I can answer him, another friend of his walks over and pats him on his shoulder. “Edward, can I steal you away for a moment? I wanted to talk to you about the church’s insurance.” My dad is an insurance agent and does business with most of the people who belong to this church.
“Sure, Stan.” He turns back to me. “Talk later?”
I nod once and smile tightly. Once he’s far enough away not tohear, I turn back to my mom and say, “I need to talk to you.”
