Page 2 of For I Have Sinned

After quickly putting it on, I run into my bathroom and gasp in horror when I see my reflection. My long hair is so tangled from sleep that I look like a troll doll. My eyes are still heavy with exhaustion and rimmed with a light red. I cringe at the woman who stares back at me. Maybe trading the wine for nighttime tea wouldn’t be such a bad thing when I hit my thirties.

There is no time to curl my hair to make myself look presentable, so I grip the brush tight in my hand, untangle the rats’ nest, and force it into a slick bun. My concealer is still sitting on the counter from when I got ready for dinner the night before, so I quickly rub it over my eyelids and under my eyes, where the skin is still a bit puffy. The concealer may have covered the redness and dark circles, but it did nothing for the sleepiness still in my eye. I apply mascara to bring some life back to my light green eyes. I don’t look as dead as I did before, but now I look more like a zombie with a hint of makeup on.

This is as good as it’s going to get, and my mother will just have to deal with it.

Leaving the bathroom, I unplug my phone from the charger and type a quick text to tell my mom I’m leaving to meet them. Slipping my heels onto my feet, I sling my purse over my shoulder, and my phone chimes with the notification alert I had set up just for her.

A cackling witch.

She would hate it if she knew, but that is why the annoying laughing alert is worth listening to.

Evil Witch:

We left without you. You will have to meet us.

I sigh in frustration and throw my head back as I inhale a few deep breaths. Glancing down at my phone again, I punch the address she sent me into Google Maps and am not surprised to see that it is a church.

However, I am confused that it isn’t the one they usually attend. They never stray away from what they feel comfortable with—restaurants, clothing stores, and especially their church.

When I walk into the hall, I notice that the guest bedroom door is still shut. I remain quiet as I pass by it because I know Amelia needs the sleep. She drank just as much or probably more than I did last night.

I continue out into the living room to find Vince passed out on the couch. I hold in my laughter as I peer over to see that he is about to fall off at any minute. Shaking my head, I find my keys still hung up on the key ring and leave the apartment.

Luckily, there was no traffic on my drive, and I arrived at the church in record time. After finding a parking spot, I walk swiftly to the entrance, my ankles twisting every so often when the bottom of my heel meets a pebble in the parking lot.

The sun is blinding me, and it is unusually hot for it being the last week of September. When I squint, I see my parents standing outside the massive old church, waiting for me.

My mother wears a broad smile, happy to see that I am dressed appropriately for the day, but it fades as I get closer. Once she gets a good look at my face, she huffs out a disappointed breath.

I stand before them, my hands clasped in front of me, while my body fills with nerves. My dad’s head shakes in disappointment at my tardiness, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to my appearance.

My mother, on the other hand, inspects every inch of me, starting from my toes up to my head, before she grips my chin and furiously asks, “Are you hungover?”

“No,” I lie, pulling my head out of her grasp.

“Lying is a sin, Celine,” she seethes through her teeth.

Add it to the list of sins I have already committed.

“I went out for Amelia’s birthday. I had a few glasses of wine. Nothing crazy.” Another lie. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

She can sense that I’m lying still, but she takes a step back and gently brushes down the fabric of my dress. There were a few wrinkles on it when I took it out of my closet, but with the time crunch, I didn’t have time to iron it to perfection.

My eyes trail her every movement until she removes her hand and steps away. Once she is next to my dad, I ask, “Why are we here?”

“We wanted to try a new church.” My dad is the one who responds.

“What was wrong with the other church?”

They glance at each other before my mother replies with, “Nothing. It’s just nice to visit other places and see what they offer.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes as they turn to enter the building. Following them, I walk through the doors and into a lobby with beige walls; the trim and crown molding are dark brown, making the space look a bit outdated.

A long table on the wall in front of us displays pamphlets filled with information about the church. To our right is a closed, large oak door, and to the left is a corridor with a deep red carpet, office doors on the right, and large windows on the left.

Down the hall, two nuns turn a corner and stroll the long corridor towards where we are standing. As they approach us, they smile widely and say, “Welcome to Grace Community.”

“Thank you.” My mother beams, pretending to be the nicest person in the world. “It is a pleasure to be here.”