Page 91 of Invisible Bars
Without giving me a yes or no, he replied flatly, “You’d be surprised what people will do for a few hundred dollars.”
My eyes flew wide. A whistle escaped before I could stop it, followed by a burst—“Street justice in stilettos—w-what is this? Purple pickles in the courtroom!” I jabbed a finger toward the two unknowns, my body jerking in small, sharp spasms.
“Naji… chill,” Imanio gritted.
“I c-c-c-can’t help it!” I hissed, cheeks burning. “I told you I d-d-don’t do good with new faces!”
His face softened, the sharp lines eased as if some hidden version of him slipped through for half a second.
My eyes wandered to another guy—an older short Black man, dressed in a dark gray suit, who I took to be the officiant. He stood near the fireplace, stiff as a statue. His eyes flicked nervously between Imanio and me.
Oh, God. This poor man has definitely been threatened.
“Blink twice if you’ve been threatened! Bark like a seal if you need backup! Spit if you’re hiding a body under the pews!” The words tumbled out, nonsensical and loud enough to draw stares.
That wasn’t a real tic, but I made it resemble one by twisting my face and twitching my shoulder right on cue, just to sell it. I rarely faked tics—my condition wasn’t a joking matter, and I’d spent years trying to separate myself from the stigma of it. But sometimes… sometimes it was almost like a blessing and a curse. Because when the moment called for it, I could use it to my advantage—disguise a question, deflect attention, or in this case, plant doubt without anyone being able to accuse me of lying outright.
The guy’s mouth dropped open just a little, eyes stretching wide like he’d accidentally walked into church naked.
I caught Imanio’s reaction. I couldn’t decipher his facial expression. He gave me a somewhat dubious stare, which was unusual when I had an outburst. But the guy? Yeah, he looked like he was about two blinks away from confessing every sin he’d ever committed.
“Naji, this is Reverend Ellis; he’ll be marrying us today,” Imanio announced.
I nodded.
“So… so nice to m-meet you, young lady. Uh… shall we begin?” he stammered, voice thin.
“We definitely should,” Imanio agreed.
Imanio led me to stand across from him. The witnesses didn’t move from their spot. Where they stood, they could see and hear everything.
Imanio stepped close to the officiant and muttered something too low for me to hear. Whatever it was, it drained the remaining color from the man’s face, causing him to nod rapidly.
“I-I understand,” the man acknowledged shakily.
“Good,” Imanio replied, cool as ever.
Reverend Ellis flipped through the pages with fingers that looked like they were auditioning for a tremor commercial. Every few seconds, his eyes darted to me—not in a reverent or respectful way, but like I was either a ghost he couldn’t unsee or a riddle he was too scared to solve. And those kinds of stares? They made my nerves itch… like, full-body itch.
My toes curled in my sandals.
“Fuuuuuuuuck your eyeballs! Blink, you creepy walrus!”I snapped.“Ain’t you supposed to be reading vows, not reading my soul?!”
The tic had forced it out—loud, sharp, humiliating.
Reverend Ellis recoiled like I’d spit acid.
“I—I beg your pardon?”
I winced immediately. My hand flew up to my mouth, and I backed up a step.
“I—I'm so sorry!” I blurted out, a warm rush of embarrassment flooding my cheeks. “I d-d-didn’t mean to say that! I h-have Tourette Syndrome!”
Each time I had to explain this condition to others, it felt like a weight on my shoulders. I hated the look of confusion or pity on their faces, yet if I wanted them to truly understand my struggles, I knew I had no choice but to be open about it.
“Naji, stop,” Imanio commanded, his voice firm enough to cut through the room like a switchblade.
I froze, startled—not because he sounded angry, but because he didn’t… not exactly.
