I wake up, and it's Sunday. On Sundays, we go to church—the only time you'll catch me in a skirt. I don't dress up often. I'm a complex girl, if you haven't noticed. I brush my teeth as my brother and I push each other for space at the sink. He follows me out, trying to start a play fight. We get in the car and head to church. I'd like to say I have faith and try to do the right thing. I believe in God. I try my best, but there's still a lot I don't understand.
I was always raised in a God-fearing family. Both my mom's and dad's sides are very religious. On Halloween, we go to my aunt's church for what they call "Hell Night," where they show us things meant to scare us about hell. It works every time—I leave traumatized every year. Our church isn't so extreme. It's pretty laid-back, so we actually learn a lot about the Bible here. Sometimes my dad's mom comes too. She's a crier and tears up at every service she attends.
I guess she's just as scared as I am about not wanting to end up in hell. We leave church after the last hymn. I already regret trying to walk in these wedges—I'm so used to my Converse, which don't have any heel at all. Like I said, I don't dress up often. We sit in the car, all trying to decide where to eat. Dad sometimes gets annoyed when it takes us too long to pick a place.
phone vibrates
I look down and read:
Unknown: Hey you. It's Matthew.
I freeze. I'm so excited to get his first-ever text. I think of what to say back.
Me: Hey
I hit send. I don't know what else to say to him.
I'm so focused on the text that I don't realize we've already arrived at the restaurant we agreed on—Chili's. I bring my phone inside as Dad counts us to tell the host how many people are in our group.
We follow the host to our seats, and my phone vibrates again.
Matthew: What's up?
Me: I'm out to lunch with my family.
I put my phone down on the table when the food arrives. My grandmother asks who I'm talking to.
"A friend from school," I say, smiling but trying not to seem too excited.
Phone Vibrates
Matthew: Cool, I'm just at my mom's this weekend. So when can we see each other?
I hesitate. I don't hang out with anyone from school. I barely know him, and more importantly, I know my parents would never allow a boy to come over. I glance around at them, as if that's going to help.
Me: I don't know, my parents are sort of strict.
I finish my Chipotle chicken crispers and wait for the next text. Dad pays for our meal and my grandmother's. He leaves the tip, and we walk out. I grip my phone tightly as I head to the car, making sure I don't miss it if my phone goes off again.
Phone Vibrates
Matthew: Maybe if you get to know me better, you can convince them.
Me: I don't know, maybe.
Matthew: Just give me a try.
I put my phone down, thinking about it. I don't reply for a while. Dad drives to my grandmother's house to drop her off, then heads home.
Phone Vibrates
Matthew: Please?
I smile a little at my phone.
Me: Sure.
I hit send and get out of the car, rushing inside to change out of these uncomfortable clothes and shoes that I can hardly walk in. After I change, I plop back onto my bed with my phone in hand.
Not long after we get in the house, my parents get into a heated argument about my grandmother. My mom and grandmother don't get along very well. I shut my bedroom door and put my headphones on. This is why I call my bedroom my fortress. Their argument is tame compared to some of the fights they've had. It can get physical.
I'll never forget the worst fight they had. I was as young as my little brother is now. Dad was on top of Mom, and he broke her nose. I was terrified, holding the home phone in my hand, threatening to call 911. My dad snatched the phone from me. I remember it all too well. Sometimes, when I start hearing them yell, I worry if it will ever get that bad again.
I once told my dad that I hated him, but my mom said I'm not supposed to hate my father. So, I don't—because I don't want to go to hell.