“Why on earth did I think that I would find what I need coming here? The way that they looked at me. They think I’m trash. Did you see the way the pastor hesitated before handing me the cup of communion? I told you there was no point coming here.”
“I don’t agree. The couple who greeted us at the door hugged us and they were so warm.”
“I guess so.”
“What about the choir?”
“Their voices were beautiful.”
“Yes, that was quite some magic.”
“See, it wasn’t so bad.”
“I thought that I would get some answers here. I thought that I would get some peace. There were so many old people looking at me like I was from the planet sin.”
“Old school people maybe just don’t understand your ink. Maybe they haven’t considered it may be art. I think you maybe could have thought about covering them up.”
“I decided a long time ago, I will not be doing that, for anyone.”
One of the female pastors who was on the alter with the rest of them rushes up just as they’re about to get into the car to leave.
“Wait a minute. I just wanted to ask you whether you got your tattoos done at the parlour on 7th Street.”
“Yes I did, how do you know?”
“It’s my father’s place, I can spot his work a mile away.”
“Your father is Big Jay?”
“Yes he is.”
She lifts her robes, removes her collar, takes off her cardigan and starts rolling up her sleeves. Her arms look just like mine. Even the scars on her wrist. My husband and I are the co-pastors of this parish. I’m preaching next Sunday, please come again?”
“I just might.”
“See? I told you church is great.”
“We’ll see.”