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𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙉𝘿 𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏: 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙎
SITTING ON A CHURCH PEW LISTENING TO Pastor Williams go on and on about the good grace of God was not how Andrea envisioned her Sunday morning going. To be fair, it was her grandmother's birthday so Andrea would be wrong to complain much, but...who decides to spend their birthday at church? Church!
Andrea's never had a particularly good relationship with religion nor her extended family who all just so happened to be religious. So having to sit in church, surrounded by people who refused to understand her was her worst nightmares come to manifest into physical form.
She sat wedged between her mother and her younger brother by just a year who looked just about ready to get up and leave as she was. These things went on for hours but they were far preferable to what came after. The only reason she was here was for her mother, that's it, no one else. Everyone else who snuck glances at her and shared gossiping whispers between Williams's screaming, calling on the Lord to bless them all, especially Grandma Anne who was turning 95 this year, they can all kiss her ass.
Wearing a deep maroon dress, one that hugged her every curve with uncomfortable tightness but it was the nicest thing she had in her closet. Andrea was forced to tuck, something she wasn't overly enthusiastic to do. Why do you think she always wears loose sweatpants, because of their comfort?
"How long you think he gon' go on like this?" Malik nudged her softly as she was just about to fall asleep on his shoulder. There was no telling. Sometimes they were in here for just mere hours, sometimes for three, all too many for Andrea. "Hard to say, but wake me up when they done." The moment they are, she's gone like the wind. She doesn't need to get interrogated right now. Not with all this stress on her shoulders.
"Don't leave me like this." Her bother hissed at her, shrugging her off his shoulder to keep her awake. Andrea elbowed him. "Then go to keep too, nigga. Ain't nobody keeping you awake." Her head was once against resting on his broad shoulder.
The Wood siblings always got mistaken for twins with similar facial structures, a lot was taken from their mother, Meriam. High cheekbones, that death-defying gaze that constantly made their family look like they had it out for you, a set vendetta before you'd even spoke a word to them. Both siblings had locs. Andrea's butterfly locs gave a feminine appeal to her while Malik maintained dreadlocs that mostly cover his eyes.
Luckily, Pastor Williams decided to have mercy on their poor, tired souls and only kept it at a cool 2 hours. And while everyone congregated, getting ready to eat outside for a little family cookout, Andrea was just focused on getting out the door before anyone could stop her. She doesn't know why she keeps trying because everyone always swarms her with the quickness of vultures around a decaying corpse.
Especially Grandma Anne.
"Andre." That thick Ghanian accent was unmistakably identifiable and put utter, unmatched horror in Andrea's heart. She didn't mind people calling her Andre as a shortened version of her name but she knew how she meant it. She was saying it as her dead name, calling for a little boy that wasn't there and will never be there.
