Oh, How We Act

Chapter One

   Atlanta, Georgia 1999

     Meredith sat in the bathroom stall, trying her best not to eavesdrop on the two chatterboxes who'd just walked in. They were oblivious to the presence of another person in the room, so wrapped up in their gossiping session.

     "I'm telling you, Cindy, it was just dreadfully awful! I mean, who knew they made corduroy in that color and so much of it too! I says, 'Corduroy mama? What's that?' I mean, I never seen it made into anything but kiddies overalls, let alone a dress! Oh, Cindy it was this gawd awful punkin color. Why you could have used her as the great pumpkin in the Cinderella play. Oh . . . I feel the vapors coming on just thinkin' bout it." 

     The sound of a toilet flushing couldn't quite drown out the giggling laughter they shared at someone's expense. Their honey-smooth southern drawls floated towards the sinks as they continued to critique faux pas of the fashion unconscious.

      Meredith didn't move. She couldn't move. She looked down at her lap, her pumpkin-colored corduroy jumper bunched above her knees. Resolutely she finished her business, straightened her skirt, and opened the door. The two were so engrossed in freshening up their lipstick they didn't see Meredith until she passed behind them. She didn't stop to watch the wide-eyed shocked expressions on Cindy and the loudmouth's faces. She'd known them for more years than she cared to count, had taken the brunt of their criticism with an aplomb that would have made Scarlet O'Hara proud.

     She headed towards the nursery, where she was welcomed unconditionally and without judgment by the toddlers she taught. The little munchkins thought she was a nice, big cuddly person who gave them candy when they memorized their verses, and made the stories from the Bible come alive with her various voices and felt board characters. It wasn't unusual to have a couple of them crawl onto her ample lap and play with her long chocolate brown braids as she told them a story. What is it that takes this unconditional acceptance away and turns it into something ugly and cynical? The thought often crossed her mind; as usual, she didn't have an answer. 

     The vast hallways of the Old Way Baptist Church were empty by the time Meredith ventured out of the nursery. She'd spent an extra hour coloring-in the figures for next Sunday's lesson about Noah's Ark, engrossing herself in a project to avoid running into anyone. Parents were in a hurry to collect their children and didn't pay her any mind. Wednesday evening services were highly attended, but most rushed home to get a head start on tomorrow. The Church was her entire life. Founded by her father, he'd shaped it into a Goliath. She'd grown up living, breathing, and adhering to the teachings. She'd watched the congregation grow from less than a hundred close-knit faithful worshippers, to hundreds of thousands who watched the services on television and mailed in their donations.

      The lights in the parking lot shining through the glass walls illuminated the marble floors, making it look cold after the interior lights switched off. Ironic really, it echoed the way she'd started to feel lately. Her mind wandered as her rubber-soled loafers squeaked on the polished floor. She had no illusions about her looks.  She'd spent her fair share of time gazing in a mirror. The image of a drab, overfed cow might be a harsh assessment, but that was her impression. Her skin was pasty white, marred by angry red pimples. Enough metal in her mouth to set off metal detectors in the Atlanta  Airport eclipsed her teeth. 

     Her hair was her one vanity, thick and naturally curly. It hung past her waist when loose. Her mother insisted wearing it in two French braids was more fashionable than one, so Meredith complied. Mirrors don't lie, but she loved her mother and wanted to make an otherwise miserable woman happy. Meredith hadn't found the courage to challenge her mother's fashion sense, in the twenty-four years she'd been her daughter, and figured rebellion wouldn't happen any time soon.