Present

3.2

Audrey

It was mere moments before we pulled into the church parking lot and i could feel the dread welling up in my chest. In another life ,Gwen's parents would be kind and accepting, but that was a life that we were lucky enough for.

I could already hear her oblivious parents talking about how it was so nice that Gwen had such good friends that would come to church with her. As if Gwen actually wanted to go, rather than only making an appearance to save face with her parents. I took a deep breath as I parked the car.

"You're lucky I love you," I muttered as I unbuckled my seatbelt.

"Oh, I know I am. Thank you, for dealing with this," Gwen smiled sympathetically.

Gwen opened her door and slid out of the car and I follow suit. Being here felt as if I were sliding on a mask with no holes for me to breathe. It was suffocating to be in a place, to be with people, where who I am is shameful and wrong. Even though I knew that I wouldn't have to wear this mask for very long, I didn't feel any better. Every second I had to pretend to be someone I wasn't was excruciating; always having to filter every word that came out of my mouth as if I were one of the fancy water pitchers the fridge of Gwen's parents.

"Gwen! Oh, it's so good to see you," A shrill voice cut through the air. The voice turned to me, "And you too, Audrey. It's so nice that Gwen has friends that are willing to come to church with her. Those kinds of friends are hard to find nowadays."

And here we go. Gwen and I both turned to see a woman with white blonde hair perfectly curled and pinned meticulously out of her face. Her skin was smooth and clear, but there were smile lines around her mouth and small lines between her eyebrows. She had the same blue eyes as Gwen, though hers were harder, less kind. Following behind her was a shorter man, with faded copper hair and crow's feet around his eyes. Looking at both of them, I had no idea where she got her wild curls from, though her *refined* mother would never let her hair look anything other than perfect. I tried to imagine her young, as young as we are. Maybe in college she was the hippie child who dropped out and settled down with the first finance major that gave her the time of day because she knew he would take care of her and whatever baby she popped out.

"How is school, so far? Passing all of your classes, I'm sure?" Her father Keith beamed, proud of his only child in her pursuit of a college degree. Gwen returned the smile, excited to see her parents for the first time in a couple of weeks. As she opened her mouth to speak, her mother cut her off.

"Keith, we'll have time for chit chat after the service, we're going to be late," she advised.

"Of course, Barbara," Keith turned to us and motioned for us to follow along. Keith and Barbara led the way for us inside of the church they had both attended for the majority of their lives attending. I was sure it wouldn't be a far off guess to assume they were also married here.

The church was small, and everyone entering it's tall wooden doors knew each other and grew up together, in this very building. Every Sunday and Wednesday as ids they would gather on the uncomfortable wooden pews and listen to the same sermons every week, learning and relearning the same lessons in some effort to be good people. I looked around the room at the stained glass windows, each depicting a different scene from the bible and the musty red carpet that would never match anyone's wedding colors. I could see it now, the clashing of the pastel pinks with the deep reds on the floor and the pews but everyone would be too polite to mention how horrendous it truly looks.

I glanced away from the unfamiliar room and focused on Gwen, whose icy eyes were trained on her parents. While I was out of my element and awkward, Gwen transition from her college self to the perfect only child in a matter of seconds. I envied her for it, the way she cloud slide different masks on and off depending on her situation and who she was with. I was always stuck as me. I could never hid my feelings, always having them written all over my face whether I wanted to disclose them or not. I was never the girl that got along with everyone, and I've always missed out on things for it. Relationships, friendships, any of it.

We filed into the pew, Gwen's mother, her father, Gwen, and then me. Her parents exchanged pleasantries with the family in the pew in front of us and I let my mind wander. What did it feel like to have a community like this? What did it feel like to be able to walk into a building at the very center of a community and know every person there? To have some form of history with them whether it was baking pies for Thanksgiving or having your kids play together on the playground after school. I had no memories of my parents knowing, or spending time with, any in our town outside of my grandparents on either side. I never had the whole having neighbors over for dinner like the people in this church do. Their normal was not my normal. But whose normal was the real normal?