Page 2 of Sins of the Flesh
Swiping at the fogged-up mirror, a towel slung low on my hips, my light green eyes gazing back at me, as I run my fingers through the mop of black curls on my head.I keep my hair short on the sides with a little length on top, making it a hell of a lot easier to manage.As a kid, mop top was an understatement.
My phone vibrates on the counter, and I glance at it:
Mason:
You ready for your weekly dose
of Father yum?*wink emoji*
I roll my eyes as a smile tugs at my lips.Mason's the only one who knows about my crush on Father Nichols.When we were 16, he found out after he caught me ogling him during one of his sermons.
Me:
Gross *barf emoji*.Don't ever
say that again, and shut up.
It's not like that.
Pulling on a clean white collared shirt and my best pair of jeans, another text from Mason comes through:
Mason:
Sure, sure.Just try not to drool
during communion this time
*wink emoji*
Me:
Fuck off, that happened ONE time!
A soft chuckle escapes my lips, and I shake my head, pocketing my phone.I get distracted staring at Father Nichols as he puts the communion wafer in my mouth ONE time, and Mason can't let it go!
"Cole!We're going to be late!"Mom calls impatiently from downstairs.
"Coming!"I holler back, giving myself one last once-over in the mirror before grabbing my coat and heading downstairs.Mom's waiting by the door, keys in one hand and her other clutching her worn leather bible.
"My, don't you look handsome," she says with a smile, straightening my collar.A pang of guilt grips me, knowing she probably thinks I've dressed up for that girl at Church.
THE DRIVE TO ST.MARYS CHURCH is short, just ten minutes from our house.As we pull into the parking lot, I spot the usual Sunday crowd filtering in, Mrs.Berry with her three rowdy kids, Old Man Jenkins hobbling up the steps with his cane.
My leg jiggles anxiously with the need to see him as we find a spot in the almost full parking lot."There's Mayor Hendersen," Mom says, waving to the Mayor as we approach the entrance.Mayor Hendersen gives us a polite smile and waves.Mom thinks she's great, always praising her as “Such an accomplished young woman.”But for me, there's always been something not quite right with her.
The Chapel is a decent size for a relatively small building; the design is still the same as when it opened in the 1930s.Ornate designs carved into the walls and painted, now faded gold color.The lighting was updated about 20 years ago, so at least we don't have to worship by candlelight.
I scan the crowd, and there standing just below the stage is Father Nichols.Mom is nudging me towards him to say hello, and I turn to her, “Cole, you're holding up the line.What's the problem?”She mutters under her breath, pasting on a smile as people greet her while passing us.I grimace
“H-he seems busy.”I choke.She looks at him and her eyes widen, and she says,
“I know why you don't want to go over there.”And for a moment, my heart drops.
Shit, did I give myself away?She knows, I’m so fucked, the panic rises in my chest, and I close my eyes, bracing for impact.“That new girl is standing right by him.Is that it, honey?”
My breath releases in such a strong whoosh, I swear I'm deflating.“Yeah, I'm just…” Just what, Cole, you liar?“Just shy, Mom.”She gently squeezes my shoulder and nods, winking.
“I get it, honey, let's sit.”I hate lying to her; it makes my stomach turn, so most of the time I let her assume.
