Goldfish Bowl

Chapter 25

"He'll be here, don't sweat it." Godwin told her, she sent him a grateful smile and all four of them escorted her up to front seats where the family were seated before they returned to their own seats, oddly Alisha felt like a fraud, she wondered if they were thinking it too.

The funeral service began, the pastors taking turns to begin in worship and praise songs, the choir echoed it, sounding like angels. The congregation sang along cheerfully as if it was any normal Saturday service, as if there wasn't a dead man lying just a few distance from them. Alisha blinked, wondering why she felt bad for him but she had never hated him, not when he changed and not now when he was dead.

Other pastors climbed the dias to give sermons about forgiveness, death and the afterlife. More than once she thought about what afterlife Festus was in.

The service dragged on and on, Victory fussed in his suit, and snuck out with his eight year old cousin and each time they would return, giggling. If it wasn't for the cold body - surrounded by roses and other pretty flowers - that Alisha could see from where she sat, it was easy to close one's eyes and pretend it was a wedding ceremony instead, that the songs sang were praising God for a new union, that the bride and groom were standing where the coffin stood and the crocodile tears people shed were because the ceremony was beautiful and because the bride was stunning.

She sighed and wished it were a wedding instead, the pressure in her chest increased making her heart thud fast. She glanced down at the bulletin printed in her hands, the next thing under the order of service was the eulogy - she was next.

She took in deep breaths and stood when her name was called next, the congregation erupted in thunderous applause that made her feel even more of a fraud. She noticed the stares and knew that most of them were wondering why she of all people was in charge of giving an eulogy when she wasn't even family and Alisha knew very well that others thought that it was fitting - the daughter he had raised out of the pure kindness of his heart even though she was never his.

She climbed up the dias, forcing herself to look anywhere but at the dead body of Festus. The pastor at the pulpit handed her the microphone with a nod and then he was gone, leaving her to the mercy of almost two hundred people.

"Hi -" Her voice cracked as she spoke and her hands visibly shook as she gripped the mic like it was an anchor. The congregation quietened.

"Good afternoon, everyone." She tried again. Her voice was not quite as firm as she wanted it to be, but it would have to do. She wondered if they wondered why she wasn't shedding tears.

"I want to start this out and say, Festus Boye was not a saint." She finally said, wincing when murmurs arose. She stretched her hand out. "Please, I am not saying this to be wicked or unnecessary mean to a dead man. I'm saying this because it is the truth."

The murmurs died down and she almost laughed when she spotted Nehemiah in the crowd, most of them wearing black, he caught her eye and gave her a thumbs up. She steeled her spine, feeling buoyed by his presence.

"To you, Festus Boye was your pastor, your spiritual father and what not. To me, Festus Boye was a father to me for the first years of my life, he was a confidant, and for a while, my mentor. But he was also far from perfect, he made mistakes, he hurt people and he broke hearts."

Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, feeling empowered, even when she caught the gazes of her old friends staring at her like they didn't recognize her.

"You celebrate a man you think as perfect, I celebrate the man I thought I knew, a mere shadow of the man he was, an illusion and when he was that illusion, he was the most perfect man. I don't celebrate the ugly colours he showed when he was in comfort of his home, I don't celebrate the man who once beat his wife to a pulp or the man who failed his children when they needed him the most."