It's a Christmas get together during this Sunday church service. Garrett is my visitor. I haven't been here in years. I park the car and turn off the engine. He looks at me. I smile and say we are five minutes early. The singing and preaching don't start until six. It's five fifty-five in the late afternoon. He opens the passenger door and steps out. I grab my Bible and notebook. After stepping out of the car, I close the driver's door.
As we walk toward the front entrance of the theater, I look around. Garrett notices. I carefully explain to him why I had chosen to leave the "Sports" ministry in the AMS Region of the LA Church of Christ. First, to clarify, it was because of certain sisters and brothers in this church group. So that is why I appear cautious at searching to see who is "out there" walking, in the same direction, to the theater doors as we are. The implanted voice of "When you see someone that's worldly!" echoes loudly in my head. It's from a blonde sister. My ex-roommate named Necole. Won't say her last. Garrett stares at me. I am unaware.
Once inside the building, several people, nicely dressed, stand near the entrance of the theater. They are busy talking. A couple walk out of a room. Child care. The church members can't see me and Garrett. This is an illusion of a past event. Think of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. Ebenezer Scrooge and the Ghosts of the Christmas past, present, and future. No one talks to us. We are viewing the past, 1996, but living in the 2013 present.
I advised Garrett that I had difficultly trying to control my temper as soon as I had moved to the island of Oahu where my mother Mabel and the rest of my family reside. Life wasn't easy. I was angry. We sit in the back of the lighted theater. He wants to know more, so I explain the time when I was a student attending a community college in Honolulu during the fall semester of 1998. I wrote, in a classroom essay, that I was awakened from hearing the sound of gushing water that was coming from the bathroom. I jumped out of bed, opened the door, and discovered that the toilet had been flushed. I was filled with anger as I ran down the stairs.
Garrett gives me one of those "I can't believe it" look. I continue speaking, but, then, suddenly a group of people step onto the stage. All of them are holding song books. The lead singer instructs us to turn to a certain page. I only brought my Bible. No "Songs of the Kingdom" book. Garrett doesn't know the lyrics to Sanctuary, Men Who Dream, and Jesus Will Fix It. I casually sing along feeling uncomfortable.
The singing ends. No time to talk. A male figure emerges. He stands behind the podium and speaks into the microphone. The Christmas lesson is about to begin. The Evangelist guides the seated church members and their visitors to open the Bible and turn to Luke 2:1-20. It's the scripture of Jesus' birth. The birth of Jesus. I share my Bible with Garrett. We both read while I jot down notes. On the other hand, I don't need to. Forgot. We are not physically visible. No human form to contend with while hearing the Christmas message. I look up, staring at Garrett. He doesn't notice until I start talking.
Okay. I hear him say. Do you know what I said to my mom? I ask him. Garrett doesn't know. He wants to, though. So, I continue. In a loud voice, I say that I had asked Mom why did she flush the toilet. She said it's because I don't flush the toilet and it will get clogged. I stare at Garrett. He nudges me to go on telling my story. At this moment, I do. The reason why, I explain to him, I didn't want the toilet to be flushed was because I had a phobia of the phone ringing. The phone would ring whenever I flushed the toilet. I angrily asked my mom why does she always flush the toilet at six-thirty in the morning.
People are starting to stand up from their seats. A few leave the theater. The rest remain. Brothers talk to brothers; sisters talk to sisters. The church members walk around the spacious room to find those who are still presently in the theater. Each of them don't see us, Garrett and I, sitting in the back seats of the theater.
I continue talking, explaining to Garrett, in my "phobia" story, two hours later, I came downstairs to make breakfast. Still upset at Mom, I grumbled and complained loudly. Aunty stopped me. I turned around and saw her sitting on a recliner chair. She was watching television. In a loud voice, I shouted that my mother doesn't understand and doesn't care about me. Aunt said, sternly, correcting that if Mabel doesn't care, then why does she give money to attend school? Pain in my heart, I yelled at my Aunt. Mom doesn't want me to graduate. This is why both of them want to make things hard so I don't graduate.
Garrett looks at me. He gestures that there are only two to three people left standing in the theater. I guess it's almost time for us to go.
No later than ten minutes, we arrive at the compact car in the parking lot. Garrett smiles. That was quite a story I had just told him. I smile. Yeah. It was...wasn't it? The key unlocks the driver's door. I get inside the car and open the passenger lock. Garrett slides into the seat. He closes the door. I start the engine. There was more. He couldn't believe. Want to know what else happened? Of course, he does, Garrett nods.
I turn on the radio. The song California Love plays in the stereo speakers. It's sung by 2Pac, Roger Troutman, and Dr. Dre. The ending of the music. TLC's Unpretty is up next.
When I arrived at the World Civilization class in Honolulu, I wasn't able to concentrate and I felt deeply discouraged. As I waited outside the classroom, a local girl began talking to me. I wept as I confided to her about my problems at home. I knew something was extremely wrong at what I had thought about my family. The most frightening feeling was that I believed all of this was real.
Garrett gives me one of those "I can't believe it" look. I continue speaking, but, then, suddenly a group of people step onto the stage. All of them are holding song books. The lead singer instructs us to turn to a certain page. I only brought my Bible. No "Songs of the Kingdom" book. Garrett doesn't know the lyrics to Sanctuary, Men Who Dream, and Jesus Will Fix It. I casually sing along feeling uncomfortable.
The singing ends. No time to talk. A male figure emerges. He stands behind the podium and speaks into the microphone. The Christmas lesson is about to begin. The Evangelist guides the seated church members and their visitors to open the Bible and turn to Luke 2:1-20. It's the scripture of Jesus' birth. The birth of Jesus. I share my Bible with Garrett. We both read while I jot down notes. On the other hand, I don't need to. Forgot. We are not physically visible. No human form to contend with while hearing the Christmas message. I look up, staring at Garrett. He doesn't notice until I start talking.
Okay. I hear him say. Do you know what I said to my mom? I ask him. Garrett doesn't know. He wants to, though. So, I continue. In a loud voice, I say that I had asked Mom why did she flush the toilet. She said it's because I don't flush the toilet and it will get clogged. I stare at Garrett. He nudges me to go on telling my story. At this moment, I do. The reason why, I explain to him, I didn't want the toilet to be flushed was because I had a phobia of the phone ringing. The phone would ring whenever I flushed the toilet. I angrily asked my mom why does she always flush the toilet at six-thirty in the morning.
People are starting to stand up from their seats. A few leave the theater. The rest remain. Brothers talk to brothers; sisters talk to sisters. The church members walk around the spacious room to find those who are still presently in the theater. Each of them don't see us, Garrett and I, sitting in the back seats of the theater.
I continue talking, explaining to Garrett, in my "phobia" story, two hours later, I came downstairs to make breakfast. Still upset at Mom, I grumbled and complained loudly. Aunty stopped me. I turned around and saw her sitting on a recliner chair. She was watching television. In a loud voice, I shouted that my mother doesn't understand and doesn't care about me. Aunt said, sternly, correcting that if Mabel doesn't care, then why does she give money to attend school? Pain in my heart, I yelled at my Aunt. Mom doesn't want me to graduate. This is why both of them want to make things hard so I don't graduate.
Garrett looks at me. He gestures that there are only two to three people left standing in the theater. I guess it's almost time for us to go.
No later than ten minutes, we arrive at the compact car in the parking lot. Garrett smiles. That was quite a story I had just told him. I smile. Yeah. It was...wasn't it? The key unlocks the driver's door. I get inside the car and open the passenger lock. Garrett slides into the seat. He closes the door. I start the engine. There was more. He couldn't believe. Want to know what else happened? Of course, he does, Garrett nods.
I turn on the radio. The song California Love plays in the stereo speakers. It's sung by 2Pac, Roger Troutman, and Dr. Dre. The ending of the music. TLC's Unpretty is up next.
When I arrived at the World Civilization class in Honolulu, I wasn't able to concentrate and I felt deeply discouraged. As I waited outside the classroom, a local girl began talking to me. I wept as I confided to her about my problems at home. I knew something was extremely wrong at what I had thought about my family. The most frightening feeling was that I believed all of this was real.
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