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somewhere that can take us to another dimension, and we

can live timelessly there forever, just me and her.

******

People are shuffling around everywhere when we get to Holy Trinity. The band members are polishing their instruments andrunning cables back and forth in preparation for Saturday mass tonight.

Pastor Robert is jubilantly talking with some mothers in a corner. The children of those mothers are running up and down the stairs of the stage playing what I think is a game of either tag or King of the Hill; I can’t tell.

The sun is shining through the Shaun-The-Sheep-designed stained glass, and the vibrant, colorful rays of light shine directly onto the microphone center stage.

Mother waves over at someone in the distance, and I follow her in that direction, my steps subtle and quick-paced behind hers.

“Eliza! So good to see you again.” Mother hugs the lady she waved at.

Eliza looks to be in her mid-fifties, scrawny and oddly wrinkly, but younger in the face. She has long, dirty blonde hair that reaches her inner elbow joint and green eyes that match the hue of a section of the light coming in through the stained glass.

Beside her is a boy with a far more boxy build than her frailness. His hair is dirty blonde to match hers, but his eyes are a deep sunken brown, and freckles dance across the bridge of his squared nose.

“This is my son, Donovan.” Eliza introduces the boy to us, and he steps forward to shake both of our hands. His hand is rough and calloused, and his grip is firm. There’s a glint in his eyes as they linger on me for longer than I’m comfortable with.

“How do ya do?” I’m taken aback by the slight southern twang in his voice, but it sounds warmer than his gaze felt.

“Donovan! My daughter Laine’s been looking to join the youth group here at Holy Trinity. I heard you’ve played a major role in that?” My mother puts a hand on my shoulder, and it takeseverything in me not to squirm away under her firm hand.

“Yes, ma’am! Proud to say I have.” Donovan turns to face Mother, that annoying glint returning in his eyes.

“That is fantastic! You wouldn’t mind showing her the ropes, would you? She’s already spoken with Father Robert, and he’s agreed to let her on board.”

“I sure do not mind.” Donovan raises an eyebrow and turns to face me, sliding me a polite smirk, as polite as a smirk can be.

“Oh, this is wonderful! Donovan could use a pretty girl like you to help him out.” Eliza claps her hands together, a huge grin plastered across her face. I’ve re-familiarized myself with the loose language of physical compliments when it comes to Southern formalities, but still, I subtly shudder at the way she pronounces a hard r when she says “girl”.

Eliza and my mother continue talking as Donovan leads me into a smaller room off to the side of the main atrium.

“This is where we hold Youth Group meetings. It looks kinda bland, but you get used to it.” He holds open his arms like he’s giving a grand tour, despite this room being smaller than my tiny basement bedroom.

There are a few bean bags near the front by the projector board, and across from that are long rows of carpeted open carriage independent stair units. It looks almost like a small meeting room of an office, but with the smell of a church. I go to sit down on the carpet of the second row.

“Those are what we call the mini pews. I don’t really sit on them ‘cause I’m praisin’ our lord from up here.” He points to where he’s standing beside the projector. “But I heard they’re kinda uncomfy. You can tell me if ya think so.”

I pat the area around me. “They’re fine.” “You don’t say much, do you?”

“I don’t really have much to say.” I shrug.

“Well, you gotta have somethin’ to say. After all, you joinedFather Robert’s lil’ elite club.”

I wince at the way he sayselitelike he’s better than every other believer who comes to mass just because he feels he’s more outwardly passionate about it.

“I joined because my mother thought it would be good for me.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “You call your momma ‘Mother?’”

“I do. It’s more respectful.”

“But she’s your momma. Ain’t she family?”

“She is, but she is also an elder to me. I was raised to address my elders respectfully.”