CHURCH AT THE TITANIC

CHURCH AT THE TITANIC

I sat in the back of the car silent. It was as if they couldn’t see me, or just didn’t want to. we had been on the road for some time, on the way to a new church my parents wanted to try out. I never really knew what difference it made what church we went to. It wasn’t like we’d be any more saved than the last time. Every Sunday at 9:30 am I would acquire an acute case of restless leg syndrome. My knees knocked together and my toes tingled ready to dance out of the building as fast as I could as soon as the service was over. Church was a beauty pageant where the contestants scores were based on how well they could make up their transgressions. A bunch of bullshit covered with sprinkles. Why we had to drive so far to be saved never resigned with me. 

I was busy using my eyes to jump over street shadows as we drove down Main St.; a game that I used to hack away at the uncomfortable seconds of car ride left. My brothers and sister were birds, chirping away at each other in the front seat. They were busy exchanging lines from a movie they had watched the other night at the theaters; an outing I wasn’t invited to and was pretending as if I didn’t want to be anyway. I was used to the cold shoulder by now. The silence that once cut like a dagger now only felt like a paper cut, stinging only if I touched it and I never dared to. The rollercoaster ride I was on was more like a Mary go round now. Just like a Mary go round, I didn’t want it to stop because I knew if it did the sensation of vertigo would overwhelm my body, and everything I was trying so hard to keep down would crawl it’s way out of my throat. I had grown accustomed to the spinning and the twirling, I had learned to keep my mouth shut so I didn’t vomit. 

We rounded the corner. My dad was in the drivers seat, humming away to the song playing on the radio while tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. I wanted him to give me one of those reassuring looks in the rear view mirror, the one that let me know everything was going to be okay. But he stared straight ahead, never diverting his eyes from the road except for to chime in with my siblings and their conversation every once in a while. A part of me wanted to chime in too but was scared of the rejection. I couldn’t even remember how long it had been since I had lat spoken to them. It had to have been months by now. How cruel it was to be inches from my family but still feel so far away; how cruel it was to be forced so far away. I missed them but it seemed as if they didn’t think twice about me. So it was easier to stay forgotten, to blend in with the street shadows I was constantly jumping over. Tears welled in my eyes, and I prayed to God I wouldn’t cry. Not now. Who knew one picture could cause such a big rift. Who knew liking a boy could reek all this havoc. I no longer fit into their box, even if it was made out of sand. I pressed my back against the seat wanting to sink deeper and deeper until I disappeared. “Hello? Does anybody notice me?” I wanted to scream. Did I notice me? This time their cold shoulder hit like an iceberg, and I the Titanic. I felt myself floating in the water; was I Jack or was I Rose? At this point it didn’t matter. I was dead in the water and alone on my raft; floating aimlessly through what I thought was suppose to be family.

Church was in sight now. Time slowed down as we got closer to the fraudulent asylum. My family gathered themselves, their faces painted with smiles as if the devil didn’t know their sins. They took their places among the contestants. Their comedy act performance taking the win. I knew this church would not be it. My mom would tell us all to pay close attention to the sermon, like she always does, while all the while thinking of an excuse for us to not come back. She’d complain and say she didn’t like the music or that the pastor didn’t speak to her enough. I wondered if that was really it or if she just wasn’t listening. She had a habit of that. 

I’ve never felt God in any church, always in the silence of my room. I found him there one night sitting on the edge of my bed, waiting for me to wake up from the nightmare he knew I was having. We’d stay up all night gossiping like little girls about what I had dreamed of. Even though he already knew what was in my heart he let me speak anyways. Then he told me, in the midst of the silence, that it was okay not to smile, and that His castles aren’t made out of sand. In that very moment his words hit like an iceberg, and I the Titanic. At this point it didn’t matter, I was Jack and I was Rose. I had let go, and I had survived. Though, freezing and cold, still I rose.