1. Celine
Celine
I don’t remember anything from last night.
The only thing I could remember was walking into the restaurant and sitting down at the table. There were small recollections of me ordering food, but once the bottle of wine was presented to us, I was done for. It was Amelia’s birthday, which meant the night was a blur.
But I guess that’s what happens when you go out to celebrate your best friend.
She was turning twenty-nine, a year away from thirty, and as happy as I was celebrating her, knowing that in October I would be celebrating turning thirty had driven me into a psychosis.
I swear, just yesterday I was entering my twenties, going to all the clubs, and partying it up.
Next month, I’ll be trading the alcohol and partying for herbal tea and early bedtimes.
Instead of hitting up a club like we used to, Amelia opted for a nice dinner.
It seems that our partying days would end sooner than I’d thought.
I didn’t mind a quiet night at a restaurant, though, especially since Vince, the friend who makes us a trio, offered to pay for all the wine we planned to consume.
I didn’t think I would regret drinking in that moment, but as I lie in bed with a pounding headache and an upset stomach, I realize that it was probably the biggest regret of my life.
I’m lying on my side, the blankets curled up underneath my chin, and as the sun begins to shine its unbearably bright rays through my window, it all becomes too much.
I bury myself under the covers to escape the blinding light in hopes of saving my headache from growing, but it doesn’t seem to help. I don’t even remember coming home after dinner. Vince was the designated driver, so he brought the three of us back to my apartment.
When I was old enough to move out of my parents’ house, I found a place of my own, but shortly after, the rent was raised to a ridiculous price, and I couldn’t afford to stay there.
At the time, I didn’t have a great-paying job, and spending that much money on an apartment by myself was outrageous. I was in college and barely making any money at the bar where I worked. With Amelia being in the same boat, we decided to become roommates.
It was the best decision for us, and we loved living together for those five years. However, as we grew older and had better paying jobs, we each wanted a place to call our own. She didn’t kick me out, but she loved that apartment so much, and I was okay with finding a place that felt more like me.
I ended up finding an apartment near her and Vince, but it was farther from my parents than the first apartment, which was a major reason I had gotten that place. The space from them was much needed because I couldn’t handle how they hovered over me like I was still a child.
Watching my every move and criticizing the choices I made. All the times they would tell me if I kept sinning the way I was, I would end up in Hell, and there was no way their daughter would behave this way.
Not only was the thought of me being sent to Hell an embarrassment for them while still living, but they were also afraid of the judgment they would receive from their friends and God when they got to Heaven themselves.
They have been trying to force me to find peace with God and to devote my life to serving Him as they do.
First off, I’m not going to dedicate my life to any fucking man.
And second, I don’t believe in God, which was another reason for the embarrassment they felt towards me.
They always said, ‘I don’t know where we went wrong with you.
You used to love going to church when you were a kid. ’
I did not, in fact, love going to church when I was little.
If I ever looked happy while there, it was because I snuck a cookie off the refreshment table before we were allowed to, or whenever Johnathan, the kid who used to tease me, would get scolded by his mother.
His getting in trouble always made me giggle.
I’ve tried telling them multiple times that attending church wasn’t for me, but they still pressured me into going, hoping that one day, I’d change my mind.
After all these years, I still had the same mindset.
Speaking of my lovely parents, I have plans to meet with them this morning. At first, I thought I was going to their house for breakfast and a chat, but the joke was on me. Given that it was Sunday, I should have known better.
As I roll onto my back, the covers slip off me, and the warmth disappears from my body. I groan and grab my phone to check the time.
Shit. I’m supposed to meet them at twelve-thirty, and it’s already noon.
Jumping out of bed, I rush into my closet to find my best Sunday dress. Yes, I have one still to try to appease my parents.
After quickly putting it on, I run into my bathroom and gasp in horror when I see my reflection.
My long hair is so tangled from sleep that I look like a troll doll.
My eyes are still heavy with exhaustion and rimmed with a light red.
I cringe at the woman who stares back at me.
Maybe trading the wine for nighttime tea wouldn’t be such a bad thing when I hit my thirties.
There is no time to curl my hair to make myself look presentable, so I grip the brush tight in my hand, untangle the rats’ nest, and force it into a slick bun.
My concealer is still sitting on the counter from when I got ready for dinner the night before, so I quickly rub it over my eyelids and under my eyes, where the skin is still a bit puffy.
The concealer may have covered the redness and dark circles, but it did nothing for the sleepiness still in my eye.
I apply mascara to bring some life back to my light green eyes.
I don’t look as dead as I did before, but now I look more like a zombie with a hint of makeup on.
This is as good as it’s going to get, and my mother will just have to deal with it.
Leaving the bathroom, I unplug my phone from the charger and type a quick text to tell my mom I’m leaving to meet them. Slipping my heels onto my feet, I sling my purse over my shoulder, and my phone chimes with the notification alert I had set up just for her.
A cackling witch.
She would hate it if she knew, but that is why the annoying laughing alert is worth listening to.
Evil Witch:
We left without you. You will have to meet us.
I sigh in frustration and throw my head back as I inhale a few deep breaths. Glancing down at my phone again, I punch the address she sent me into Google Maps and am not surprised to see that it is a church.
However, I am confused that it isn’t the one they usually attend. They never stray away from what they feel comfortable with—restaurants, clothing stores, and especially their church.
When I walk into the hall, I notice that the guest bedroom door is still shut. I remain quiet as I pass by it because I know Amelia needs the sleep. She drank just as much or probably more than I did last night.
I continue out into the living room to find Vince passed out on the couch. I hold in my laughter as I peer over to see that he is about to fall off at any minute. Shaking my head, I find my keys still hung up on the key ring and leave the apartment.
Luckily, there was no traffic on my drive, and I arrived at the church in record time. After finding a parking spot, I walk swiftly to the entrance, my ankles twisting every so often when the bottom of my heel meets a pebble in the parking lot.
The sun is blinding me, and it is unusually hot for it being the last week of September. When I squint, I see my parents standing outside the massive old church, waiting for me.
My mother wears a broad smile, happy to see that I am dressed appropriately for the day, but it fades as I get closer. Once she gets a good look at my face, she huffs out a disappointed breath.
I stand before them, my hands clasped in front of me, while my body fills with nerves. My dad’s head shakes in disappointment at my tardiness, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to my appearance.
My mother, on the other hand, inspects every inch of me, starting from my toes up to my head, before she grips my chin and furiously asks, “Are you hungover?”
“No,” I lie, pulling my head out of her grasp.
“Lying is a sin, Celine,” she seethes through her teeth.
Add it to the list of sins I have already committed.
“I went out for Amelia’s birthday. I had a few glasses of wine. Nothing crazy.” Another lie. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
She can sense that I’m lying still, but she takes a step back and gently brushes down the fabric of my dress. There were a few wrinkles on it when I took it out of my closet, but with the time crunch, I didn’t have time to iron it to perfection.
My eyes trail her every movement until she removes her hand and steps away. Once she is next to my dad, I ask, “Why are we here?”
“We wanted to try a new church.” My dad is the one who responds.
“What was wrong with the other church?”
They glance at each other before my mother replies with, “Nothing. It’s just nice to visit other places and see what they offer.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes as they turn to enter the building. Following them, I walk through the doors and into a lobby with beige walls; the trim and crown molding are dark brown, making the space look a bit outdated.
A long table on the wall in front of us displays pamphlets filled with information about the church. To our right is a closed, large oak door, and to the left is a corridor with a deep red carpet, office doors on the right, and large windows on the left.
Down the hall, two nuns turn a corner and stroll the long corridor towards where we are standing. As they approach us, they smile widely and say, “Welcome to Grace Community.”
“Thank you.” My mother beams, pretending to be the nicest person in the world. “It is a pleasure to be here.”
“If you will follow us, we will start the tour,” the older nun says sweetly.