It Started with a BET

Chapter forty-three

Zemela's POV

Forgiving Bryson was a decision I was happy about, his goofy, caring and loving acts made me fall for him all over again. I was also happy with my decision to not be his girlfriend immediately, I must say I was really thrilled when he asked me I had to play like I wasn't dying of excitement.

Thanksgiving and my birthday were the next day, Bryson was in New York, I tried calling but it went straight to voicemail.

On Thanksgiving/my birthday, we wake up, go for morning mass, visit our priest for my birthday blessings, good back home, pray, cook, eat, pray again, watch a saint movie, sleep, go for rosary possession, pray go to bed, nothing more nothing less.

I had work, which was something I was damn grateful to God for, Ruby and I would celebrate together. I was low key excited for my birthday, this was the first year I had work on my birthday and I felt Mrs Mateo and Ruby were behind it.

I woke up by four to prepare for the six o'clock mass, I mentally said my daily prayer to my guardian angel while brushing my teeth with one eye opened. I was up all night till three talking to Bryson, he was to be back the day after, he wished me a happy birthday at exactly 12AM.

Getting dressed up wasn't always a problem, my dad has a strict no pants rule to chruch, long gowns or skirts with scarfs. I always looked at myself in the mirror imagining I'm a reverend sister.

"I can't wait to get married" Pamela laid on my bed, she likes coming to my room often unlike before.
"I think I'll run away" I considered, sitting close to her.
"This while thing is unnecessary, we could go for the seven or ten o'clock mass" she groaned into my pillow.

"The both of you should come out now!" My dad ordered from the living room.

Pamela groaned, "can't we exchange that man for another"

"The devil you know is better than the angel you don't know. Or however they say it" I push her up, once she was up I stretched my hand so she'd help me up.

She rolled her eyes but still helped me up.
"Thank you" I thanked her. I walked out after her closing the door behind me, I prayed silently not to have any issue with my dad since almost everything I do annoys him, I stayed as far away form him as possible.

"Always on time" I muttered to myself, we were the early birds, always in the front row. My dada always made sure we came early, prayed before mass, listen during mass, receive communion, clap and sing but not dance too much, go for confession every month end and greet all the priests and elders of the chruch.

Despite being a catholic from birth and knowing all the teachings but I've never felt comfortable confessing all my sins especially not father Bonaventure-he has known me since we migrated to America.

To Mr Adeniyi Festus Olufola, arriving fifteen minutes before mass is late. One time I had a friend-female friend of course, my father Mr Olufola said I should end the friendship because the said girl rarely receives communion-which automatically meant she was a sinner.

And people say my father is a sane man, I tell you most solemnly he isn't!

One time he asked me, "did you notice what the visiting priest did?"
"No sir" I had answered, which was a huge mistake because he related that particular answer to why I got eighty-seven in AP chemistry. I regretted those two words for the rest of the month, he gave me a lecture that only mother's give to their daughters and I cried myself to sleep.

"Thank you Lord for answerth prayer" I ended my prayer, Pamela held my arm trying to keep herself from dozing off-another thing you shouldn't dare do.

We stood up when Father Bonaventure processed in starting the mass.
Pamela whispered without her lips, "Father Bonaventure got a new haircut"