THIS IS NOT GOSPEL • (Brendon Urie)

Chapter 6 • The Statue of Virgin Mary

Honestly that was the last I saw of Brendon. It had been one month since I had seen him. And he never showed up to church anymore. I kept lying to myself and thinking that I was relieved, but in reality, part of my heart shattered when I saw his spot empty. I always used to listen to my father's speeches, but lately I've found it harder to concentrate. My mind would always get distracted with something else and when I tried to focus again, I completely lost concentration. I guess what Brendon had said to my father really made a big impact on me. And slowly, I was starting to look at Brendon's point of view. And horrifically it started to make sense. But I kept my faith in God. Because without him I was nothing. He had a plan for me. Everyone has that point in their life where they start to lose faith, but only the strong ones regain that faith. And that's who I wanted to be, one of the strong ones. I could not wait to grow old and look back at these times and chuckle to myself as I sat down on my rocking chair, bible in my lap, my grandchildren all sitting down, waiting for me to open it up and read a few pages.

I snapped back to reality when my stepmother nudged me, telling me to get up because the service was over. I stood up, following her, I felt kind of light headed so I found the nearest seat and sat down. My father approached me.

"I need you to stay back and do a check on the bibles. Tell me which ones are damaged or if there are any missing." He then walked away, it wasn't a question, it was an order.

Sometimes it was entertaining checking the books because I would find little things stashed into the shelves beside the bibles. Sometimes it was candy wrappers, sometimes it was cell phones, once I even found a wedding ring.

I waited for everyone to leave, I picked up the clipboard on my father's desk and began to walk through the seats. There were a few shoe marks on the seats. No matter how many times people were instructed not to rest their feet on the shelves, no one seemed to listen. This meant a whole new job was now created for me. Wiping every mark away until everything looked brand new. We had a cleaner come in every week but my father still insisted that I do the bible checks. I would always remind myself that this was service for not only the church, but for God, and all I wanted was for him to be pleased with my efforts.

After I finished two rows, I heard my father speaking to someone.

"Come in my boy." He said.

"I'm really glad you could make it." He said, opening the door of his office and allowing the person to walk in.

Who would come at this time? Only the troubled requested to come see the pastor after hours at the church. Any normal person would come over for dinner or something. My father made eye contact with me and pointed at the seats, motioning me to keep on doing my work.
He closed the door and left me in the main hall all by myself. It was kind of creepy when I was alone in a church. It felt like I wasn't alone at all. Like someone was watching me, like the dead people they brought in for funerals. The statue of Virgin Mary was what terrified me the most. She had this fearful look in her eyes, and no matter what corner of the room you were in, it would feel like she was staring at you with worry. The Jesus statue didn't bother me because he was looking down, but the Virgin Mary one was terrifying. I remember when I was young I had nightmares about it. It was a different statue though. So my father ordered a new one, but it didn't make a difference. She still gave me the creeps.

I finished the bible check and ticked everything on the list. None were damaged or missing. Which was a first, usually there would be at least two missing or a piece of gum stuck between the pages. But today, they were flawless. I walked over to my fathers office, my hand knocking against the cold maroon wood. It took a few seconds before he shouted

"Enter!"

My hand made contact with the gold door handle, as I opened the door and my father was looking my way. And there was Brendon, sitting opposite of my father. What was he doing here? He didn't not even bother to look up, his arms crossed and his sleeves were still rolled up just below his elbows. I had never noticed he had a tattoo of a piano on there.

It was the first time I had seen him in a month, and it felt like only yesterday I was a mess in front of him, trying to storm away from my house. My finger pointed at the clipboard, not speaking at all.

"Just place it on the coffee table in front of Brendon." He said.

I walked over to the table and Brendon did not even bother to move his leg so that I could pass through. How rude. I went around the other side and placed the clipboard.

"Where do you want me to wait for you?" I asked.

"Outside please." My father replied.

"It's ok, she can go home." He looked up at me, his arms still crossed.

"I can drive you home pastor Dave." He said.

"Well what a nice gesture. Thank you son." My father said.

"Ok, see you at home then." I said, making my way to the door.

I knew that I was supposed to say thank you, and my father was waiting for me to say it as well. But instead, I walked as fast as I could to my car, not bothering to turn around. It bothered me that my heart was beating the whole time I was in that office.