The Girl With OCD

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

     The fabric of my dress brushes against my legs as I walk to the church door, Jesse trailing close behind. He seems sheepish because he hasn't gone to church before, but I remind him that it's okay, that the people there won't judge him. His smile is short and fast, and then he just pulls his sleeves further below his wrists. Our feet fall into rhythm, and then out, as my several steps make up for his single step. I push open the heavy, old wooden doors. The feeling of opening the doors bring back memories. The simple joy of a six-year-old girl. A girl in a pink dress. The lace edging rustles in the breeze, the white frills of the socks spill over the black Mary-Janes. A warm, big hand clutches the little girl's, and her other hand holds a Precious Moments Bible. The combination of the little girl's excited chatter over ribbons and wrapping, dolls and puzzles, paired with the leaves falling swiftly but gently from the sky, gives the conclusion that it just was the girl's birthday. She just turned six. The Bible is new, with a inscription in black on the first page:

     To Rosie

     We love you, and Jesus does too! Happy sixth birthday, sweetheart.

      Love, Mommy and Daddy

     As my feet step over the threshold, my mind is brought back to the present. Sunlight shines through the stained glass windows. Jesus's cross is lightly cast on the dark wood floors. The pews seem to come up from the floor, part of the floor, like roots of a tree becoming our seats. The small church is bustling with young and old, teens and children. My favorite little girl runs by, in a frilly yellow dress. She stops, turns around, and skips up to me, stops short when she sees Jesse.

     "Who's dat, Wosie?" She says through the best frown a four-year-old can muster.

    "That, my dear Lily, is Jesse. He's a friend," I say moving my hand from her to him, indicating the names.

    "Hey, Lily. I like your dress. It's very... yellow," He says slowly, slightly confused about what to do.

     Her face brightens, "Thanks. I like lello. It's a pwetty color. My mommy made it. Do yoo like lello?" She says, pointing accusingly at poor, helpless Jesse.

     "Well, um, yeah...?" He shrugs his shoulders.

    "Hmmm," she says, squinting one eye and peering at him, "Okay. Weel, I gotta go to Sunday School. Bye-bye, Dessie and Wosie!"

     She trips off to a classroom, and stops along the way to pick up a penny from the ground. Lily looks around, then, running over to a table, drops it in a charity box. Stepping back, and nodding her head as if she's surveying her work, turns around and continues moseying down the hall.

     "Sweet kid, "Jesse laughs, "I think she thought I was an assassin or something."

     I half-smile, "Nah, she just is a little protective of me. Lily's like a little sister, you know?"

     He sticks out his tongue, "Yeah, I have one. They're not fun to live with, believe me."

     I start walking to the youth's regular pew, "I dunno. I wish I had a sibling. Maybe a sister to share secrets with... or a brother to tackle. What do you think?"

     "I think", he says, grinning, "That you can tackle me and share secrets with Bonnie, and then, when you get tired of us, you can take a break."

     I laugh, and then start to introduce him to the other two teens at my church.

     The sermon is close to heart, about loss and the eternal love of God - perfect for Jesse's first Sunday. At the end, there is a call for unbelievers, but Jesse doesn't go up. He looks like he wants to, but, he decides against it and settles back down. It seems like he's waiting for something, but he's not sure what.

     "Ahh," I sigh, as I lean into our blue armchair, in my old, soft blue jeans and an oversized shirt. "It feels so good to wear my old, comfortable things." I smile as Mom comes in, in her own Sunday-afternoon ensemble.

     "Crepes in five minutes," she grins.

     The phone rings its classic, annoying, monotone beep. I reach for the old-fashioned cord phone next to my seat.

    "Hello?" I say it as a question, expecting it to be a telemarketer.

     "Hiya!" A cheery voice bounces back.

     "Who is this?" An imaginary phonebook flips its pages in my head, and I try to connect voice to face.

     "Bonnie! Sorry, I should've introduced myself. Is Rosie there?"

     "Speaking! How are you?"

     "Just peachy! And yourself?"

     Her infamous, bubbly personality catches like fire, and I respond in a way unlike my usual self, "Just, uh, bonnie," I half-laugh, "So..."

    "Oh, uh, yeah! Did you want to hang out this afternoon? I just got back from church, and I wanted to see if you wanted to go to the park or something!"

     I smile, "All right, then. 1:30?"

     "1:30. See you at McBriar Memorial park," I can hear her grin through the phone, and I wonder what her life is like so that she is happy all of the time.

     With the slight spring wind and the frost melting as my shoes touch the crystalline sculptures, my mind wanders, as usual, back to the day I fell off the swing. The OCD is such a routine by now, that I don't even need to mention it. Use your imagination to picture my life's interruptions. But I just need to tell you that they are more common than I say, and more obvious then before, but less than when I began this story.

     Bonnie waves, her yellow, sparkly toque glinting off sunlight.

     "Hi, Rosie! So great to see you!" She sits on my old swing, smiling a innocent, but mischievous, smile.

     "Heya, Bonnie. You know, your happiness is catching," I grin, and then plop down on the swing next to her.

      "Thanks. Hey, I like your mittens! Did you knit them?" She points to my matching toque and mitts.

      "Yeah, my grandma helped me."

      "That's so cool! My grandma doesn't knit. She bakes. She's kinda a classic Grandma in that way. So, how's life?"

      "Worth living!"

     She laughs, and swings higher, "So..."

     She goes off on a bunny trail, and I join in every now and then. We spend the next hour at the park, then head over to her house. We bake oatmeal cookies, drink tea, and watch a chick flick. I smile, realizing that I finally have a friend that actually likes watching girly movies and baking cookies. And maybe, by being friends with Bonnie, I can transfer her joy to me to Jesse. Wouldn't that be something? Like a spark to a flame, to a bonfire to a raging inferno. Share the good news and whatnot.