Imagining Us

Chapter 5

Three days later, a bleary eyed Elizabeth Solomon was sat in the parking lot of the Community First Outreach Church, too early on a Saturday. Well, relatively early. It was just 9:00am. But, after her hectic week, she deserved to sleep in.

Luckily, she had gone through a drive thru cafe and picked up an Earl Grey latte. She needed the caffeine fix after pulling an all nighter. She emptied her cup and braced herself for the excess energy that she would need to handle the children.

As she walked towards the front of the hall, she could already hear the contestant chatter and exclamations of the children. She frowned in confusion. Was she late? Normally, they would start the reading groups around 9:30am then provide snacks by midday. Now that she thought about it, she'd never been to their Saturday morning workshops so maybe the schedule was different from Sunday afternoons.

She wasn't that worried since this was the time that Mrs. Chandler told her to come for.as she stepped through the double doors, she paused and breathed in the sanctuary.

Naturally, her eyes gravitated to the pipe organ in the right corner of the stage.

It was a work of beauty and the sounds that came from it—it'd been months since she ran her fingers over ivory keys and her fingers twitched with anticipation. Seeing it made her miss her grandfather Winston, who used to be the organist at his church in Trinidad before he died. She shook her head and took a deep breath then exhaled.

There was just something calming about the atmosphere, but it wasn't only that—it was also the people that congregated here. Esi remembered when she first passed by the church on a random afternoon drive into a rural town north of New Haven. It was one of those days where her spirit felt so heavy thinking about Sabine. What caught her attention was the saying on the church's outside board. It was something about 'Kiki not loving you, but Jesus does', and she had groaned in second hand embarrassment for them.

Whoever put up the sign was obviously a Drake fan or great with marketing. Although, she didn't know how effective that sign would be in this rural town.
The brief moment of nostalgia passed and she made her way down the left hallway to the canteen. Laughter and talking floated out of the doorway as she approached.
"Good morning." She said cheerfully as she stepped in. A chorus of 'mornings' came back at her. There were at least five other women already there. She smiled and greeted them with familiarity since she already knew from around the church. She wondered briefly why Mrs. Chandler asked her to help since there seemed to be more persons here than at their reading clubs. Her eyes were scanning the room as she was determining the best place to put her bag and coat.
"Esi!", Mrs. Chandler approached her. " So good to see you again."

"It's good to be here. What do you need me to do? I heard the kids when I came in, but I can get the books from the back for the reading..."

"Oh no, that won't be necessary." She gently slapped her head in admonishment. "I forgot that you never did out Saturday workshops. Follow me." Esi was stuck between following Mrs. C and deciding whether or not to leave her things.

"You can bring your things with you. I just want to show you something quickly, then we'll be in the canteen for the rest of the time."

As they walked down the hall, Mrs. Chandler started to explain to her that they held these Arts, crafts and games workshops for the kids in the community at the end of every month. They started them earlier in the morning so that the children could have more time to be creative. The attendance was larger, so they would normally have to provide more snacks at the end of the session. Hence, more volunteers were needed to assist with handing out food.
Mrs. Chandler led Esi towards the classrooms on the east of the building.

"We divide the groups by age ranges just as we do for the reading club, but because the numbers are larger sometimes we have to split the groups even more."
Esi could hear the mixture of talking and laughter wafting out of the classroom doors. She distinctly heard one of the group leaders laughingly reprimand a child for attempting to paint another child. As they approached the last classroom, she tuned back to what Mrs. Chandler was saying.
"For the older children, we have a special guest come in and teach them drawing basics if that's something they're interested in."
The classroom door was slightly ajar, and familiarity tugged low in Esi's belly as she heard the main voice speaking.
Where had she heard that voice before?
Mrs. Chandler moved aside to allow her to peek in. The instructor's back was turned to the board, and she could see the children trying to replicate what he was teaching them. He turned around to address the class and as his eyes ran over them, they suddenly flicked to the door at the back where she was.

It was as if he sensed that someone was watching.

Their eyes locked.

Esi gasped and pulled back so quickly that she almost knocked down Mrs. Chandler, who held out her arms to stop Esi from barreling right into her.
"Are you okay, dear?" She looked up at her worriedly.

"Ye-Yes. I'm fine. Sorry about that. Should we head back to the kitchens?"

Mrs. Chandler looked at her unbelievingly but decided to end the tour. As Esi trailed behind, her mind was filled with an onslaught of thoughts and her heart was beating unfathomably fast.
The guy from the bookstore.
What was he doing there?
Well, obviously she could see what he was doing. But, what were the chances that he would be at that particular rural church when she was there?
She decided to focus on the task at hand—helping to put together the snack boxes for the children. He probably didn't even recognize her, so she was probably making a bigger deal out of this than was necessary.
Also, why was she acting like this? He was just like any other person she'd encountered. She laughed quietly at her distress.
If he did remember her, she had some time before they finished arts and moved on to the games portion of the workshop to figure out what to say to him—if anything at all.