The Bright Side of Darkness

Twenty

"Tay, get your ass out of bed!" Travis grabs my blanket and yanks it out from under me, effectively rolling me off my bed.

"Lord, what did I do to deserve this?" I mumble as I close my eyes again.

"Hey, it's Sunday. Don't use the Lord's name like that."

Sunday? I shoot up, practically vaulting myself off the floor. My church clothes are by my closet, and I miss them once before snatching them off the hanger and running into the bathroom to get ready.

"Dang, man, I think you broke a record," Travis comments when I come back into the room. "You didn't have to get dressed so fast, you know."

I know. But today is my shot at earning a date with Emori, and I want a head start. Plus, I want to look nice. Ma will drag me back into the house by the ear if I don't look nice enough for church.

"Whatever. How do I look?" I don't want to look bad, and it's not like I can see what I look like.

My hair tickles my head as it's ruffled and then patted down. Travis fluffs it up one more time then says, "You look like shit."

"Asshat," I say, shoving him. My left hand misses, though, so it feels more half-hearted. "What time is it?"

"Uh... Nine seventeen," Travis replies.

Good. Church doesn't start until ten, so we have a few minutes before we need to leave. I grab my phone from my bedstand.

"You're gonna describe the baskets to me, right?" I'm counting on Travis's help today. Maybe Emori forgot that I'm blind, or she has a lot of faith in Travis's ability to describe things. The latter is probably more accurate.

"Yeah. But it's up to you to be able to tell which is Em's." His footsteps shuffle around the room before stopping near the door. "Let's head to church. We need to if we're gonna get to sit down."

I nod and follow him downstairs to the truck.

Any hope we had of getting seats is immediately squashed when we pull up to the church. I don't have to see the inside to know that there are a lot of people. Travis spends enough time trying to find a parking spot that it's even more obvious by the time we make it to the seating area. The chatter inside is almost deafening, as well. This has to be the largest number of people that have been in this church in years.

It's hot, too. A few fans whir as they try to cool the room down, but it's unsuccessful. By the complaints and temper tantrums of children, I can tell other people have noticed as well.

Reverend Abel stands at his podium and raises his hands, calling for everyone to be quiet. "I know it's hot, so I'll make the sermon short today. The air conditioning is broken, and I apologize for the inconvenience."

Despite Reverend Abel's promise, the sermon ends up no shorter than usual. By the time it's over, my shirt is thoroughly soaked, and my hair is bordering after-shower dampness. I'm sure other people are experiencing the same thing.