Finding Faith

Page 4

If only Daddy could see me interacting with such a polluted person.
“Because this is a holy place and sin’s not welcomed here.”
He laughed quietly to himself and shook his head at me like I was confused. His caramel-colored hair spilled into his humor-filled eyes. For the first time in my life, I had the desire to reach out and touch a stranger. My fingers itched to push the hair from his clear blue eyes. It was a crime for them to be covered.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“You couldn’t be more far off. I’m not the devil, but the fact that I’m sitting here says a lot about your logic. An angel should know the difference between holy and hellfire.”
Again, my body lit up with a hot flush.
“I’m no angel.”
He reached up and flicked a piece of my thick hair from my face. I pulled back, making him laugh softly to himself.
“If it looks like an angel and talks like an angel, then it must be an angel.” He smiled.
Even through his piercings and dark, looming looks, his smile was sweet. I wasn’t sure how he was able to do that. Maybe he was the devil. I’d been told in life that evil would be a charmer—a rattlesnake masquerading as a prince. I was beginning to think there was some truth in that saying.
I tried to wrap my mind around his words. If it looks like a sinner and talks like a sinner, then it must be a sinner. And one thing I knew about the stranger in front of me was that he was made for sin.
Without another word, he stood, the chain hanging from his pocket clanking and drawing the attention of the entire room. Daddy stopped preaching and his eyes were wide in anger and shock. I expected him to run down the aisle and snatch me up to get me away from the strange boy with the sinister beauty.
He looked down at me and smiled again as he slid against the pew in front of me to get out. The front of his coarse jeans slid across my plain skirt, lifting it and revealing my ankles and white tennis shoes. A cool breeze rushed up my legs and I got chills. I wasn’t sure if it was the cool breeze or the boy. Either way, it felt nice.
Ladies in fancy hats watched in disgust as he pushed loudly on the church doors and let dusk and evening air into the room. The doors slammed behind him, blocking out the fresh air and leaving me feeling like I was about to suffocate.
Two
Finn
Vandalism. That’s what I was charged with for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had much better things to do with my free time than spray-paint the side of a church. I can’t draw for shit. The last thing I’d do is try to paint anything. The designs on the wall of the church were way more advanced in the art department than I could ever be.
No matter how many times I told the judge this, no matter how many times I pled not guilty, he still slapped community service on my ass. The court ordered me to attend that same church for thirty days and help them in any way.
My first day there, a few of the church ladies stared at me like I was Satan himself. Big eyes took me in from underneath flowery hats and thick over-applied eyelashes. I’d never been stared at so much, and that said a lot since I was the front man in a band.
I’m sure the congregation wasn’t used to piercings and my few tattoos. I could understand that. Everyone was different, including the holy rollers. Even though I probably looked scary as hell to them, there were still a few that treated me like their long-lost grandson and patted me on the head. I didn’t hate that part as much as I should’ve.
I’d never had a grandma. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I had one out in the world bouncing around, but I’d never met her. When I thought of having grandparents, I envisioned lots of baked goods and cheek pinches—the smell of mothballs and handmade blankets. Some kids would hate that shit. Cheek pinches or not, having some form of family should be appreciated. I’d appreciate it.
I spent that first day of community service painting over the old red brick that had been destroyed. Luckily, the space wasn’t huge and the church planned on having a local artist paint over the beige square I’d painted as a cover.
Once I was done with that, I mowed the front of the church. Cutting grass wasn’t anything new for me. My adoptive mom went nuts if the grass got too tall. She was deathly afraid of critters and she swore they lived in tall grass. After having my ass eaten alive while mowing, I had to agree with her.
I pushed the old lawnmower into a little red shed on the side of the church and cleaned up in the bathroom. After helping everywhere they needed me, I took a seat on the last pew and waited until I could leave. The pastor had to sign my community service paper, confirming that I stayed for the entire sermon. I knew it was pointless to get him to sign it so I could leave early. Asking a preacher to lie? Only I would think of something like that.