Lilith's Arithmetic by Harambee K. Grey-Sun

Author:Harambee K. Grey-Sun [Grey-Sun, Harambee K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HyperVerse Books, LLC

Drifting through the passageways between dark brown pews with blood-red cushions arranged in rows that formed fractured circles, radiating outward from the pulpit toward the vestibule, Artemisia almost felt as if she were the ghost of some bride, long ago left at the altar but refusing to leave the church until the return of the one who could complete her, the one who would join its soul to hers and form a new singular unit that would carry them beyond space and time to a static paradise.

But Artemisia was no ghost. Not even pretending. Here, she was visible to all who cared to look. Few did, as they were occupied—she presumed—in their usual Sunday morning pre-services pursuits.

The deacons fraternized. The older female congregants—most of them regarded as church matriarchs—made their rounds, exuding an ostentatious friendliness, making a display of themselves while slyly sinking into as many other churchgoers’ business as time allowed.

Young folks packed the choir stand behind the pulpit. She recognized one of them from Robert Goldner’s school. A frenemy of his. Herman Harrison. Artemisia had shadowed him briefly and written him off as inconsequential.

She had no interest in absorbing gossip or striking up a conversation with anyone, not even the reverend, another relative from whom she’d been estranged. He had nothing to teach her, nothing to show her. The windows of his church, however, were alluring.

The stained glass featured no representations of biblical persons or events, only colorful geometric designs, symbols. Artemisia drifted from window to window, taking her time with each one, allowing what she saw to influence her thoughts rather than the other way around. The light from beyond, filtering through, seemed to instill her with something ineffable.

The longer she gazed at a window, the more she imagined thin chips the width of a fingernail peeling from the glass. Buttressed by currents of air, they fluttered and whirled and gradually descended toward her, disintegrating before they could land on her.

After turning away from the last window and its accompanying spectacle, her vision momentarily blurred. It found its focus when landing on her aunt, who was waving her over.

The older woman stood not too distant from the pulpit, conversing with two other women of similar age.

One, petite with espresso skin, wore a three-piece jacket, cami, and long skirt of a burnt-peach hue. The hat atop her head was more like a crown, bejeweled with rhinestones and further adorned with a large satin ribbon on its right side.

The second woman, almond skinned and heavyset, was garbed in a purple and gold jacket-and-skirt set. Her hat was a brimmed cloche, trimmed with a black bow and veiling.

Her aunt had dressed in a cream pants suit that went well with her hanging pearl earrings and necklace. Her hat was a flat and tilted affair, abundant with white carnations and large feathers plucked from tan birds.

Artemisia didn’t feel self-conscious about dressing more casually in a sweater and jeans. It was similar to how she’d always dressed for church. But something tickled her thoughts, a message perhaps bequeathed from the stained glass.

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