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Legend Fades To Myth

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Author Topic: Legend Fades To Myth  (Read 1109 times)
Cori
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Eighth year Anniversary Level 6 Seventh year Anniversary
« on: December 16, 2018, 01:50:05 am »

Pt. 2 - “Son of A Preacher Man”

The First Baptist Church of College Hill had stood over a century in pride and Faith in God. That didn’t mean they didn’t know how to get down. There was always time that. In this case for the Church fish fry, because Christmas and everything associated with it was a pagan holiday not worth actually speaking of.

The idea of a Southern Baptist church in southwest Florida declaring Christmas and everything that goes with it should be of no surprise.

Pastor Clarke did all his fishing on the weekend. Of course that was the Friday and the Saturday because Sunday was always the Lord’s Day. Forever and ever the Lord’s Day and there was nothing to ever change tat. After service was time to eat, time to get that grub on for the young and the old, for those in Sunday school and those holding their hand up every two minutes with a deep ‘Mmmhm’ in response to just about any thing the pastor had to say.

Of course she wasn’t here to judge.

She was here to become a part of.

To let it all wash over her.

Inhale. Exhale. Breathe deep.

Sister Carol had joined their congregation only a few months ago but she had all but ingrained herself to them. She came in that ankle-length dress with the stubs on. You know the church stubs your mother used to wear bright and early every Sunday. Your mother and everyone else’s mother because flip flops ain’t no sight for Jesus. Carol wore her hair in wild curls, tresses of dirty blonde and dark brunette that caught the light all at once. Ain’t none of the old folks knew her and she was happy for that.

The younger kids knew her though, or they swore they knew her but mum was the word after she said she would teach a Sunday school class because Sister Keisha had to take a day of reflection...Which, according to all that gossip, that tea spilled between Sister Allen and Sister Thornton, Sister Keisha was taking the day off because she had to run to the Planned Parenthood clinic. Of course she had found a young “gentlemen” around Ybor when she was doing her business at Club Skyy but the Lord was speaking to her in his own way.

That’s how Sister Allen and Sister Thornton saw it anyway, and discussed it with half the congregation.

Sister Carol wasn't really bothered about what Sister Keisha was up to way from the church. She tried to keep as far away from all the church gossip. That’s how you influence the pastor’s kids and the Lord only knows what happens when the pastor’s kids are old enough, are wise enough, are thinking any damn thoughts.

No.

Sister Carol at this point in time was only focused on the bubbling vegetable oil, using a pair of chopsticks to flip the tilapia over so she can get it a good golden brown on the side. She watches it with rapt amusement, a smile from the side of her lip growing as she takes pride in her little work here. Fish-frier. Imagine that. Imagine taking a moment in your life, in the existence that you hang in to know that you that you’re so weirdly proud that the fish you’re frying are all gonna be done correctly. They’re gonna be done right.

Of course anyone with sense can fry some damn fish right. Tilapia is so easy to cook that anyone could be doing what she was doing with her damn chopsticks that spent like what, an hour in water for just the occasion? Wasn’t what was important now... No, for Sister Carol it was just a matter of flipping the tilapia of that golden brown goodness and letting it catch the other side as Sister Smith who was the church busybody for everyone who know her poked her head to watch Sister Carol fry her fish.

Ain’t no interest here in the french fry, hot sauce, mustard, and white bread that made for the plate-within-the-plate.

Sister Smith just wanted to mind Carol’s business, talking loudly to Sister Allen about the church’s plans in January.

“Mmmhmm. I asked Pastor Clarke and he said it’s gonna be January. He’s gonna have Reverend Thomas stopping by to speak,” Sister Smith said, her eyebrows raising to make a silent point. Sister Allen only responded with a ‘Mmmm’.

Mmms and mmmhmms.

The language of people at church with too much time on their hands. Carol knew it was coming as she lifted one piece of tilapia out of the oil and shook it gently twice. Three times and onto the paper towel.

“The man is fine and I remember the last time he came by too,” Sister Allen on her third marriage (praise Him) said with a rumble in her throat. That or a growl, Sister Carol didn’t really want to find out. “Girl if I was twenty years younger--”

“Now Sister Allen,” Carol chided gently to finally get this out of the way as she lifted a piece of fish dried off from the oil and deposited it gently on a plate with white bread and fries. It was Mr. Allen worrying about doing the fries, and barely paying any attention to his (second) wife’s extramarital musings neither. “You know you shouldn’t be getting your blood pressure up.”

Sister Allen sighed softly as though she was ready to throw in the towel about daydreams of one-on-ones with men who actually kept their faith in Him and whatever... Oddities she was playing over and over in her head. “Girl you’re right but I don’t see you booed up with anyone? Ain’t a ring on your finger either Sister Carol, and you know there’s a fine stock of men here. No one’s caught your eye?”

“I loved--love you with everything I have, but I will not, I cannot sit and watch you find new ways to execute self-destruction on yourself.”

Sister Carol blinked softly, wavering where she stood. Physically swaying as if something had hit her low. Her smile faded for a second, only a second and nothing more before she looked between Sister Allen and Sister Smith.

“No I think I’m okay. I’m just working on me right now,” Sister Carol murmured. “Just me.”

“Mmmmm.”

“Mmmmhmm.”

Sister Carol’s lips pursed before she focused back on her fish, lifting battered raw fillets from her little bag and dropping them into the oil. Her only response of choice was a gentle, “Mmhm, that’s right.”

“Well how about my nephew, Gerald? He’s about your age and he loves God though he hasn’t been to a church in a few years but I know that a good woman could turn that right around,” Sister Allen nodded at her with a knowing smile. Carol stared at her fish with a sincere focus and her own smile turning more and more into a thin line.

“I just don’t think that would be a good idea,” Carol said simply before reaching up and grabbing her the apron from around her neck. “Warren honey, take over for me.”

The teenager found himself draped with a cooking apron and fish unflipped by the time Sister Carol put as much space between herself and the other members of the congregation. She just needed space, she just needed a minute, she just needed...

“Do you Anders Stark take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold--”

She gritted her teeth. She pushed it away.

She just needed a minute.

---

'Bein' good isn't always easy
No matter how hard I try
When he started sweet-talkin' to me
He'd come'n tell me "Everything is all right"
He'd kiss and tell me "Everything is all right"
Can I get away again tonight?'

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