14 Church

Maybe this is not such a great idea after all. What is this place? I thought she said it was a church, but this looks more like the apartments I lived in when I was young. Or was that someone else? Oh, yeah, Aunt Ella in that pink apartment house, with the Birds of Paradise. I wonder what happened to Aunt Ella?

"Come on in," some guy is saying.

Oh, look, there's Gary, shaking hands. Shaking hands? Certain situations just don't fit with certain people, and shaking hands does not fit with Gary. This is creepy. Oh, no! That guy is walking over here. Oh, shit.

"Hi, I'm Reverend Rick," he says. I float away on his big white teeth. He takes the ticket out of my hand.

"Welcome, Betty," he says looking at my ticket. I say nothing. "Ah, Eva sent you over." I look at him a little. Where's his preacher outfit? Preachers don't wear Hawaiian shirts.

"Would you like some help with that?" He starts pulling my cart. Argh! No! But, but...think, Betty. He's being nice. Nice. This does not stop my heart from pounding. I clutch the cart and halt. He looks me in the eyes.

"It's okay," he says. "We're just about to eat." I ease up on the clutching and go along with him.

Nice. This can be my mantra for a while. Nice nice nice. I'll just keep thinking about that nice bed.

"You will probably want to be able to see this," he moves my cart through the door and pushes it to the side. I am suddenly hit by a tidal wave of noise, then by a tidal wave of smells. What planet is this anyway?

"The Samoans are cooking tonight, from our congregation," he explains to the bunch of us who are staring and blocking the door. "Come in."

So we do. It's an old fashioned multi-purpose room, with a stage. Makes me remember the fourth grade. L

ittle kids start bringing us food. They wait politely for us to sit down, so we do. My little kid spills some food on my skirt, but I don't care. He is so cute. It's easy to tell when a little kid is being nice, which is usually. The food is another story. This is weird stuff, not macaroni and cheese, that's for sure. Tastes good once I get past my usual fears.

I watch the preacher roaming around. He's weird looking for a preacher--- bushy gray hair on brown skin. Maybe he's Eva's dad. Naw. Or, maybe he is. You can't tell anymore about that, with so many mixed up races.

"Hey, Betty." Gary sits down across from me.

Oh, no! Where's my cart? I panic until I spot it, then shift my seat so the cart is in my line of vision.

"Good stuff, huh?" Gary grabs my grapes.

"Yeah," I say. Gary is okay without the rest of them.

"You staying here tonight?" he asks.

"I guess."

"Mike didn't get a pass," he says. This is not a surprise to me. I wonder why Gary did.

"Remember that food fight at St. Marks?" he asks. We laugh a little. That was funny. And stupid.

"Mike got the blame."

Again, not a surprise. Mike is the loudest, therefore the most often caught. Spotlight = blame. Gary looks dejected without his gang which makes me even happier to be only with me. It's not just that Gary's particular gang is mean, though they are, but gangs in general are not to be relied on. They can do a disappearing act at any time. Even worse, they can decide you don't belong any more and kick you out, or forget you. I can do without that.

"It wasn't all Mike's fault," says Gary.

He offers me a breadstick which I take before he can pull it back. You'd think Betty and Gary are best pals just looking at us from across the room...like that preacher is doing. Reminds me that it's probably time to go check my cart. Instead, I sit and listen to the drumming. There's so much going on all around, like a big circus with me in the middle. Or a dream, a good one. In a while the kids bring us cupcakes with pink icing on top.

"Now yer talkin'!" says Gary who disappears his cupcake in two bites.

I lick the icing off and then wrap my cupcake up for later. Ally-oop into the old pocket with the breadstick.

Oh yeah, I can do this gig, no problemo.