Priscilla Paul

Sister Priscilla Paul, the pompous patriot of the parish, marched up to the church for the Divine Hour service on that Faithful Sunday morning. She arrived promptly at ten forty-five a.m. every single Sunday, but on this particular day of fellowship, she had arrived at ten thirty a.m. in order to secure her favourite seat, which was located on the far left side of the first pew in the sanctuary, for this particular Sunday was Easter Sunday. Sister Paul had surmised that the church would be filled to capacity. Guilt would overcome the heathenous outsiders who only found themselves in the church during Easter, the acknowledgement of Christ’s death, and Christmas, the acknowledgement of Christ’s birth. They would overwhelm the pews and pay homage to the Lord as a subtle plea for forgiveness for not attending church for the last six months, taking her sacred seat in the process. This was unacceptable in the eyes of Sister Paul, and it provoked her to march with a quickness to the church's foyer doors.

Sister Paul was a woman in her late seventies, but did not look a day over fifty-five. She towered over her peers and made them feel insignificant without saying a word. She had purchased a new ensemble that made her look even more intimidating than usual, and she was set on sitting in the front pew, and putting herself on display for the entire congregation to see. Her sequenced burgundy suit glistened in the sun as she strutted into the foyer, her hat covered with dozens of burgundy and black feathers. Her ruby earrings matched her black stiletto heels as they had ruby rhinestones lining the sole of each shoe. Her purse was covered with black and burgundy feathers that were almost indistinguishable from the feathers on her hat. She was a woman that emulated grace and power, and all who stood in her path feared her. She stood in front of the doors of the foyer and locked eyes with a junior usher who was no more than twelve years of age. He smiled and waved to her, but she did not respond with warmth. She frowned slightly and crossed her arms, signifying that she was displeased with the boy. Suddenly, as if a lightbulb had turned on in his head, he ran to the door to let her inside.

“Good morning and happy Easter, Sister Paul.” said the boy cheerily.

Sister Paul looked through the boy and walked inside without giving him a single acknowledgment. The boy closed the foyer doors and followed behind her.

“W-would you like a program for the service today, ma’am?” he asked hesitantly as he walked.

She abruptly stopped in her tracks, which almost made the boy crash into her. The boy quickly grabbed a program from the service coordinator and attempted to hand it to her. She looked at him through the corner of her eyes without bothering to turn her head to face him.

“When a lady is about to walk into a room, you open the door for her. Do you understand that, child?” she asked with a patronising tone.

“Y-yes, ma’am. I apologise.” the boy replied.

“Take me to my seat” she commanded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He walked ahead in order to open the doors to the sanctuary, but before she walked through, the service coordinator addressed her.

“That’s a lovely outfit you have on, Sister Paul.” she uttered condescendingly, “Although, I do remember the pastor asking the congregation to wear pastels today.”

“Red represents the blood of Christ.” replied an agitated Sister Paul, “When did Easter become a celebration of bunnies and eggs and light colours, Sister Francis?”

“Well, that is true. The day is a celebration of Jesus’ death.”

“Yes. Exactly.” said Sister Paul, while forcing a smile as she turned to face Sister Francis.

“Remember that, Sister Paul.”

Sister Paul looked at her with slight confusion.

“Whatever do you mean, Sister Francis?”

“Remember that today is about God, Sister Paul.”

Sister Paul’s forced smile immediately faded into a frown. She quickly turned to walk into the sanctuary without addressing Sister Francis.

“Have a blessed day, Sister Paul.” Sister Francis exclaimed as Sister Paul walked away, but she received no reply.

The boy led Sister Paul up to the front of the church so that she could take her rightful place in the front pew. However, a large family, who all decided to wear green and blue pastels had taken up all of the spaces in the entire front row of pews. The boy stopped in front of the second row and motioned for her to take a seat there instead. Sister Paul’s initial agitation had erupted into unrestrained anger as she glared at the boy.

“After all these years, don’t you know where I sit every single Sunday, boy?” she quietly hissed.

“I know, ma’am, but—“

Sister Paul had pushed past him in order to confront the person who was sitting in her seat. Helpless, the little boy sighed and returned to the foyer to greet other members and guests. Sister Paul found herself locking eyes with a young lady of about sixteen years of age holding an infant. The girl noticed the intimidating presence towering over her and was unsure of how to respond.

“Good morning.” the girl said.

“I don’t know who you are, but you are sitting in my seat. I sit here every Sunday.”

The girl’s mother heard Sister Paul’s cold words and decided to address her on the girl’s behalf.

“So sorry to hear that, but our family was directed to sit here for the baby blessing.”

“Baby blessing?” Sister Paul asked.

“Yes! My daughter, Nina, is having her baby christened today.” the mother said while looking at her daughter and grandchild with adoring eyes.

“The pew was reserved for our family.” Nina said coldly as she pointed to the ‘reserved’ sign that was hanging on the side of the pew.

Sister Paul quickly scanned her program and found that there was in fact a baby blessing after the second congregational hymn during the service. She rolled her eyes viciously at the program and let out a sigh of defeat. She walked away from the family without bothering to reply and took a seat at the far left of the second pew, directly behind Nina and her baby.

The welcome, call to worship, first congregational hymn and second congregational hymn had gone by all too slowly in the opinion of Sister Paul. She desperately wanted to stand and take up communion to show God, and the congregation, her solemn reverence, but apparently, the christening of a child was, for whatever reason, more important. After checking her time piece and the program for the seventeenth time, Sister Paul noticed that the christening was finally about to begin. The pastor called the family to the front of the altar to begin the ceremony, and upon closer observation, Sister Paul noticed that Nina stood with her baby at the front of the family alone. Not only was she a young mother, but there was no father present. Sister Paul raised her right brow and looked at Nina in disgust as the ceremony continued. How could the church let this happen?! Blessing a bastard baby to a teenage mother on one of the holiest days of the year? Preposterous! Sister Paul counted second by second as she waited for the godforsaken ceremony to end, and during the final prayer for the child, she refused to close her eyes.

The christening of the child had finally come to an end and the pastor made a call for the members of the church to take up communion at the front of the sanctuary in an orderly fashion. The family stayed at the front of the church to be the first ones to observe the taking up of Christ’s blood and flesh. Sister Paul glared at the family with furious eyes as she stood behind them. She barely wanted to touch the same bread and wine as the sinners who stood in front of her, but was forced to do so. When it was finally her turn to take up her bread and wine, she paused and turned to the members of the congregation to show her reverence publicly, but before she was able to do so, the pastor quickly stopped her.

“You have to take up your communion emblems quickly, Sister Paul.” he whispered, “The baby blessing made the service run longer than expected and we have to serve everyone. You’re only in the second row and there are eighteen other rows.”

Sister Paul snatched a piece of bread and her cup of wine and turned to make her way back to her seat, when she noticed that the family had exited the sanctuary and congregated in the foyer of the church to talk amongst themselves. She decided to follow closely behind them in order to speak with them. Upon entering the foyer, she squeezed between several family members and approached Nina with unnatural kindness.

“I never got the opportunity to tell you how beautiful your child is!” she said cheerily.

Nina looked at her with suspicion, but forced a smile.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“So, where’s the father?”

“He’s not around… not in our lives.”

“And so young too?”

Silence.

“May I hold the child?” Sister Paul asked.

Nina reluctantly handed the child to her. She took the child and cradled it in her arms, taking extra care to support the head. Upon closer examination, she noticed that the baby was a girl.

“She is so beautiful!”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“It’s a shame that her mother is a sinner and a whore.”

“Excuse me?” Nina asked, unsure of whether the words she heard were words that actually came out of Sister Paul’s mouth.

“You do know that you’re going to hell, don’t you?”

Nina was too stunned to speak.

“And if your baby grows to be anything like you, she will rot in hell too.” Sister Paul added.

“That’s enough, Sister Paul!” said Sister Francis, who had been watching the incident unfold. All of the people in the foyer turned to face Nina and Sister Paul.

“Give me back my baby.” Nina commanded with tears filling her eyes.

Upon noticing the group of spectators that had formed, Sister Paul let out a slight chuckle and carefully handed the child back to Nina. She turned around to go to the front of the church to sit in her sacred seat, which was now empty, but before leaving, she turned her head slightly to look at Nina one last time.

“Enjoy the rest of the service.” said Sister Paul with one last sinister smile.

Sister Paul took her rightful place at the far left of the first pew and sat gracefully with a large smile on her face as she prepared herself to absorb the words of the pastor’s sermon. She turned her head slightly towards the foyer and, to her surprise, the family was nowhere to be found, which meant that she not only had her favourite seat, but the entire first row to herself.

…

The service had concluded, and Sister Paul walked back to her home without saying a word to the other church members. Her home was located in the vicinity of the church, and she enjoyed the stroll. She strode quickly down the street and stopped in front of a lawn overgrown with weeds. She carefully walked through the weeds and made it up to a set of wooden and cinder block steps and climbed up the steps while carefully avoiding the third step because it was littered with termites. She sifted through her purse to find her keys and struggled to jam the keys into the rusty lock. After struggling to get the lock to turn, she forced her way inside. The door squeaked as it swung open and dust filled the air, which caused her to cough and sneeze. She walked into the quiet, cramped living room and let out a sigh as she threw her purse onto the ground. An old wooden table stood in the corner of the room, near a small window. She turned on an old gas lamp that was placed on the table next to an old ink pen, some paper, an envelope and a set of stamps. She set her hat down next to the lamp and sat down, looking at the blank paper. After taking a deep, shaking breath, she began to write:

Dearest Julian,

This is my third time writing to you for this month and I am still unsure if this is your address. I know that you no longer identify with the name, ‘Chester Paul’, and if I am contacting the right person, your new family gave you this name that feels so foreign to me, but I took that into account when I continued my search for you. I went to church today and something made me think of you. I wanted to write to you and check to see if you are alright. I was a foolish young girl when you came into my life, and I thought that you were my biggest mistake. Now, as I sit alone in this room, I realise that my biggest mistake was not wanting to grow with you. I don’t know you, but I miss you. I miss you every day. Please contact me if and when you receive this letter. I would like to meet with you face to face.

Sincerely,

Mama Priscilla

She folded the paper and jammed it into the envelope, which proved to be too small. After sealing the envelope and placing three government stamps onto the top right corner, along with writing the receiver's address in the top left corner, she looked at the envelope closely. Upon this examination, she noticed that one, singular tear had fallen onto the name of the receiver, which had, unfortunately, smudged the ink.