One Sunday morning, Patience drooped over the kitchen table like a wilted flower.

Her mother slid a bowl of cereal before her. On top of the brown flakes, Patience could see a pile of sugar before it was swept away with a gush of milk. It was just how she liked, but she could barely muster the energy to lift her hand to the spoon.

“Don’t forget, we got to go pick up my mama after church,” James belched, bits of chewed sausage scattering across the table. Shanice turned around to glare at him.

“Boy, act like you got some damn manners. Ain’t nobody gon’ forget. If yo’ mama ain’t even coming, I don’t even know why we going. I got plenty of things I could be getting done rather than listening to this damn pastor talk about whatever the hell he be yelling about up there.” Isaiah’s spoon clattered onto the table, his bowl tipping over onto his freshly ironed shirt. When James ignored him, Shanice sucked her teeth and began cursing under her breath.

She began fussing over him, dabbing at the wet spot on his pants.

James continued. “Don’t start this shit again. We don’t just go because of my mama, okay? Them choir ladies done already got her in my ear because they tell her we only there on Sundays. Be lucky this the only day we gotta go.” He glanced at Patience. “Hurry up and eat that cereal, Patience. If it get soggy I know you ain’t gon’ want to eat it and you ain’t gon’ waste it.”

She didn’t remember eating the cereal, but she must have; once she was seated in the backseat of the car, her mother licked her thumb and swiped it at the corners of her mouth. 

"Little girls should be more careful when they eating. Come on now Patience, care about the way you look more."

The car door slammed shut, rattling Patience enough that she was finally able to lift her chin from her chest. Beside her, Isaiah gnawed at the seatbelt that bisected his body.

“Can you stop it?” She snapped at him.

“Patience, leave that damn boy alone before I smack you upside the head. He ain’t doing not a damn thing to you.” Shanice called from the front seat. 

Sulking, she turned her attention to the window. She jammed her hands underneath her thighs, wiggling her fingers until they met between her legs, dislodging the crumbs stuck to the seats. The scratchy fabric of her dress pinched her skin, but for once, she felt comfortable; she wasn’t pressed against the window, and even though he somehow still found a way to be irritating, at least Isaiah was all the way on the other side of the car, unable to drool all over her arm.

“Where’s granny? Are we going to pick her up?” She asked suddenly, tucking her chin beneath her seatbelt. James’ eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. He wasn’t smiling.

“She had to miss church today, baby girl. Don’t worry about it, you gon’ see her afterwards.”

"But why?"

"She just ain’t. She got something else to do. You gon’ see her later."

Isaiah’s seatbelt had turned almost black where his mouth latched onto it. 

"But-"

"Patience, stop." Shanice didn’t have to turn around. Tears stung Patience’s eyes. She dug her nails into the seat, willing them not to fall. 

When the car stopped, Patience didn’t even have time to catch herself. The seatbelt bit into her face, pinning her head against the seat in a way that forced a few tears to escape. There was no time to process the pain; suddenly everything was moving in spite of the car having been stilled. Her father was already out by the time she began looking for him, his door hanging wide open. Her mother was following closely behind.

Isaiah was in the beginning stages of a tantrum. 

Patience fumbled with her seatbelt, jabbing the big red button in the center of the catcher until it released her. There wasn’t anyone to tell her to stay in the car, so there was no way for her to get into trouble.

“Wait for me.” Isaiah twisted and swiveled in his seat, his face wrinkled with distress as he attempted to mimic her actions. They both knew his seatbelt was broken though; the button often got stuck, and it usually required the help of bigger hands to overload it with force. Before she could decline, he had slipped the strap across his chest over his head, kicking his feet up onto the seat. He wiggled and strained until he dislodged his waist from the remaining belt, crawling across the seat towards Patience. She made a face but didn’t slam the door in his.

James and Shanice hadn’t made it far. The stood just beyond the view of the backseat, having stopped the car at the mouth of the street where Mercy Hills resided. They’d stopped there because otherwise, they would’ve been driving straight into the cloud of folks that became more and more familiar the more Patience looked around. It didn’t take her long to realize what they were staring at. She caught glimpses of it as the bodies shifted and moved, pressing herself into James’ side.

“Daddy? What happened?”

His hand landed heavily on her head. “Girl, why the hell you get out that damn car? You know damn well you supposed to wait for me or yo’ mama.” There was no conviction to his words; instead it was strained in a way that Patience had never heard before, high pitched and airy.

Far enough away to be safe but close enough to see the way the heat warped the air, bodies were crammed together to make use of every inch of space on the street. Some were left barefoot or shirtless in their hurry to watch whilst others were still dressed in uniforms, keys or bus passes in hand. Isaiah’s grubby fingers found their way into hers, but she hardly noticed.

“Yo’ granny gon’ lose her damn mind when she find out.” She thought she heard her father’s voice over the cacophony of others, but when she craned her neck upwards, she couldn’t see his lips moving. His features were arranged into an expression that Patience couldn’t decipher, his hand tight around hers. 

Even from where she stood behind his large frame, she could feel the heat radiating off the orange tongues that licked up the side of the building, weaving through the windows of the first and second floors like shoelaces where the glass had blown out. She wondered what would become of the loose-leaf papers full of scriptures stuffed in the deepest corners of her backpack, of the small red pocket-edition bible Reverend Kidd had been helping her slowly work through that she’d accidentally left on one of the foldable plastic tables on the second floor where classes were held.

That would be the last time she visited a church, twelve years old with a tightly wound ball of guilty excitement sitting in the pit of her stomach at the thought of not having to get up so early on Sundays anymore.

It was as if the real building, the street itself had been tacked onto Patience’s Heaven as an afterthought. When she saw it, she couldn’t even remember what was there before; maybe it was white? Sort of like the unused canvases that lined the underside of Emoni’s bed. It didn’t matter. 

Owl’s questions pressed into her as she dragged her hands over the outer brick. They warmed the pads of her fingers, the stale, slightly acrid smoke filling her chest as she peered into the doorway that no longer held a door. 

Silence choked her as she passed through the first row of pew, covered in a fine layer of soot and dust. Charred wood and debris crunched beneath her feet. 

Owl was somewhere. He’d stay back so as not to intrude, and she wouldn’t ask him to come any further even if she felt like she was going to crumble. 

Above her, sunlight streamed through the gaps left in the ceiling. Patience stared right through them, wondering idly how it was that it hadn’t collapsed right on top of her during any one of the nights she’d occupied the building. She took a seat on the edge of one of the only fully intact pews remaining, imagining a seventeen-year-old version of herself in the same exact spot. The pull in her chest traveled higher, higher still until it settled around her throat. 

Patience hadn’t wanted to miss her. She could miss her family. She could miss Qway. She could even miss the way it felt to wake up hungover or to stub her toe. Missing her was an entirely different thing. 

Missing her meant mourning the future that they could no longer share together. It meant wishing that Patience could have her there beside her as they’d done years ago, because it couldn’t truly be Heaven unless she was. 

Owl called her name. Once, twice, then quieted when she realized she’d once again went somewhere that he could not follow. 

In the church’s ashes, Patience recalled what it truly meant to be blessed. 

Next Chapter: 26