in the family had gone to church
and I, quite happily, had not. The
days of endlessly schlepping back
and forth to church were no longer
my problem, and I was lazily
sleeping in. The irony of my life is
that whenever church is involved is
when shit goes wrong, like getting
kidnapped by violent minibus
drivers. I’d always teased my mom
about that, too. “This church thing
of yours, all this Jesus, what good
has come of it?”
I looked over at my phone. It
was flashing my mom’s number,
but when I answered, it was Andrew
on the other end. He sounded