Page 88 of Tarek

“My brothers and sisters, trust is the foundation of a good marriage. Without trust, love will struggle. It will never grow,” Bishop Bartholomew’s voice echoes throughout the church. As the Bishop speaks of love, I think about Tarek. My thoughts stray to the wonderful night we had, and I woke up to an empty bed. I should feel relieved that he left, but I don’t. But then again, it’s not like I was going to invite him to stay for breakfast.

Just as I was about to sigh my watch begins to “ding”. That small ding echoed through the middle row of the church. Ms. Johnson turns her head around, lifts up the flap of the hat that is covering her face and gives me the stink eye. Of course, she doesn’t like me. I dated her son some years ago. It didn’t work out because, duh, he cheated. He doesn’t come to church anymore. Guess who she blames for that?? Me.

“Sorry,” I said shyly as I raise my hand to apologize.

As the Bishop continues his sermon, my phone buzzes.

Again Ms. Johnson turns her head, this time she presses her index finger to her lips and says, “Shhhhhh.”

The “Shhh” sound Ms. Johnson makes is louder than the buzzing on my phone.

Ignoring her, I open my phone, and I see the most alarming text.

Tarek

Where are you?

Me

at East Valley and fifth. The church is on the corner.

Tarek

Okay On my way.

I blink rapidly, what does he mean “On my way?”

Me: I am in Church so see you later.

No response.

Me: Tarek it’s okay. I will see you after church. In like three hours.

Still no response. Shrugging my shoulders, I put my phone away.

Some minutes pass and Ms. Palmer begins to read the scripture. I hear the two doors at the back of the church open. Behind me I hear a slight commotion, some women were talking, others are tittering. Something tells me to look back, and I do. Only to see a dark, tall figure, surrounded by the light from outside. Shit its Satan, no, no it’s just Tarek. Oh god Tarek!

My heart drops, and my legs develop a mind of their own, because I am speed walking down the side isle to get to the back of the church. I reached him just in time as the usher is pointing Tarek down the aisle to sit in the front. Oh my god, oh my god!

“No. It’s okay,” I reach pass the usher and grab Tarek’s hand.

“Is it?” Tarek asks, nodding to the back pew onlookers as I drag him away from the main auditorium.

I can see Ms. Johnson hat rising out of the sea of people.

“No, no,” I murmur. I walk down the back hall, turning the doorknobs of the Sunday school classroom and the confession room all lock.

“Where did she go? Making all that noise, that girl,” I can hear Ms. Johnson’s voice, and I think the she, that she is referring to is me.

“When you said you were in church, I thought hmm maybe I should start going to church more often.” Tarek pulls me to a stop. “Then I figured I’d probably burst into flames the second I walked through the door,” he adds with a crooked smile.

Two things occurred to me; One, Tarek really is allowing me to move him, this man is strong, and two if he doesn’t move the whole church would be back here wanting to find out who Tarek is. Why? Because church women love to gossip.

I inhale trying to calm my nerves down. “Listen Rhet is already in the front causing a mini commotion.”

Tarek eyebrows rise in excitement. “Rhet is here I gotta tell the guys this.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I reply. I wonder if the bathroom door is open. As I am about to touch the door. Annette Robinson, a cute teenager with dark long sister locks comes out. She looks at me and then at Tarek. I drop his hand.

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