Sabbath Day

Nothing Bad Ever Happens at Church

It was Sunday, 9:00. "Our Sabbeth Day" Mother would call it when she was referring to the day we spend going to church. I wore a dress she picked out for me, and styled my hair the way that father approved of. In 1845 fathers have to approve everything. My white church shoes were just about worn out. My floral dresses haven't been of my interest since I was ten.
"Nothing bad ever happens in church," the pastor explains over and over again.
It's his opening line. We all have to listen to it annually when we come in that people just automatically laugh when they hear it. Of course I believed him. Until one day I spotted William Charles sneaking off during brunch with a young lady. I couldn't believe my eyes.

Especially since William Charles was the type to volunteer to lead a prayer circle. His parents Mr. and Mrs. Charles were the definition of loyal. If anyone were to be allowed into the gates of heaven it would certainly be them. I was sure William Charles was just as plain. That he was the type of individual to sit in church and be the only child to listen to the priest, let alone understand him.

After church brunch started. A large crowd scattered around Mrs. Charles. All women in nice neat floral gowns, a cover-up sweater, and their hairstyles all extravagant. I had finally managed to find some time to myself, and sneaking off to the bathroom would ensure my safety from any of the ladies my age wishing to gossip. As I walked down the decorated hallway the stain glass windows seemed to catch my eye. All carefully painted with soft brushes, delicately done by a talented volunteers.

I was so fixated that I almost didn't hear the faint sound of giggling. The echoes whispered throughout the hallway. The murmurs I couldn't hear  urged my curiosity.

I sneaked passed guest of the church that were scattered around trying to find their way back to the main event. I almost stumbled on my church shoes which I imagine doubled my height (an exaggeration of my imagination).

Before I could turn the corner the laughter made me jump back into place. I glanced back, sticking to the wall as I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I didn't understand what I was seeing either. It was William Charles. The perfect boy who sat behind my desk in the schoolhouse. His hair was messy, as it never was.

A hand reached to gather it back to the correct place. A dainty hand that was decorated with expensive pearl jewelry and a single ring on the pointer finger.

It was unusually pale. I couldn't figure out who it was because just about every girl in Georgia was pale.

The lady's leg wrapped closely around his leg. He didn't even flinch. He slid his hands up her thighs, getting so close I thought she would scream. Without realizing I let out an odd yelp and the girl noticed.

He looked up and quickly whispered something to the girl. In my head I begged for him to move out of the way. To show me who this strange girl was. To let me see. He walked up to me. The vest of his suit let askew. His gloves tucked around the strap of his suspenders.

His pants were seriously in need of some ironing.
"What are you doing watching?" He was angry.
It was like a big father scolding his little daughter.

"And what are you doing?" I crossed my arms.
My uncomfortable gloves were too big for my hands since they were my mothers.
He scoffed and ran his fingers threw his hair. With one simple gesture it was back to normal again.

"Don't tell your parents and go back to brunch." William Charles picked up his hat and held it under his arm.

"But..." I say.
My heart was beating irregularly.
"But what?" He responds.
"What exactly were you doing with that girl?" I asked.