‘I’m going to be healed, so I can play in the netball tournament. My friend, you must come to church to see this miracle o.’
Blessing had said this at lunch break on Tuesday, in the accent she used to sound like her mum. Kayla chewed on the straw of her juice carton, sucking up the last tangy drops of sweetness. The thing with Blessing was, you never knew if she was being serious. After a moment Blessing had turned to her, crutch-free hand on hip,
‘What is the matter with you? Don’t you want to see your best friend get healed?’ She shook her head, but within seconds she was giggling. Kayla took the straw out of her mouth and giggled as well; Blessing’s laughter was always super infectious.
‘For real though,’ Blessing said, sobering, ‘Being on these crutches is long tings!’
Now, here Kayla was, a few days later, sat in Blessing’s church. Not only that, but it wasn’t nearly as mental as she’d expected. Kayla had seen them on YouTube, those black churches. Weird that it was OK to call them that. Massive warehouses of people all hands in the air; a choir in robes swaying together; the crowd shouting “Hallelujah!” and falling over when the preacher man touched their heads. No thank you. Not for the likes of this skinny white girl; 13, the same age as Blessing, except her mum joked that she could still pass for ten.
Outside it hadn’t looked like a church at all. On the inside it was more like a community centre but posher, with comfy blue cushioned chairs and a blue carpet that made Kayla wish she’d wiped her feet. There were about a hundred people max and they weren’t even all black but a mixture of races, and ages. They mostly wore nice clothes and held out reusable coffee mugs, like extensions at the end of their arms. At least it wasn’t just her and Blessing and a load of old grannies, Kayla thought, but she bit her nails and kept her eyes on the floor anyway. She realised that her rain-soaked jeans were making the chair cushion wet, and she shuffled uncomfortably trying to cover the damp patches.
Last night you couldn’t have paid her to be here. This morning she’d woken up feeling relaxed. It was Sunday; she was going to head to the park, see if any of the usual crew were playing football. But through the frayed pink curtains that covered her window in the flat she shared with her mum; she could see it was mad rain outside.
She hopped off her mattress and headed to the lounge in her t-shirt and shorts. A morning eating coco-crispies and playing on her battered old XBox would have to do instead, but by the lounge door she froze: a familiar pair of booted feet were hanging over the end of the sofa. Her breath quickened and her body went onto high alert but, for a moment that seemed like an eternity her eyes were glued to the boots, and she couldn’t move. A shudder went through her, remembering the damage those boots had inflicted the last time they were here. She put her hand lightly on the door frame to steady herself and tried to breathe again.
The lounge was fuggy with his own particular unwashed drunken odour, a smell filled with dangerous omens. However, along with the constant background hum of the traffic on Peckham Road, the burring of the fridge, and some distant shouts from another block, she could hear him snoring.
Kayla wistfully eyed the door to the kitchen on the other side of the sofa on which her dad slept; she knew there’d be no breakfast for her this morning. Then she backed away, her small feet moving swiftly but silently. A few minutes later, she left the flat without making a sound. As she half walked and half ran through the rain, she held the hood of her puffer over her with one hand, while she texted her mum with the other.
Kayla felt a hand on her leg. She looked up and Blessing was smiling but shaking her head. Kayla had zoned out, but she realised now she was jigging her knee frantically. Someone at the front was reading a list of announcements, a white guy with a Superdry t-shirt and designer glasses. He was saying you could give the church money via their website if you wanted. Kayla hoped no one was going to ask her whether she’d done this before they let her leave. Blessing leaned in,
‘D’you need to pee?’ Kayla shook her head and smiled quickly to reassure her friend. She adjusted her posture and tried to sit still but found it impossible. The truth was, she was still low-key freaking out after finding her dad in the flat earlier.
They never had any warning of when he was going to turn up. It felt like bad karma, like being punished by an angry god for sins you didn’t know you’d committed every time he appeared, drunk, violent, and looking for money or a place to stash stolen goods. Any resistance from her mum was met with the back of his hand and a reminder that his name was the one on the council lease. Last time, for the first time, he’d used his feet. Kayla subconsciously rubbed her lower back, remembering the pain of the impact as she was kicked out of the way.
The music had started up again and some people stood up now with their hands in the air. They were singing, ‘Show your power,’ over and over while swaying from side to side. Others were sat down still, some with their eyes closed or just kind of staring into space. The randomness of it unnerved Kayla. Everyone else knew how to behave, knew how they were meant to feel in this moment. She’d just needed somewhere safe and dry to be for a few hours, but she was convinced that any second someone would call her out for looking the wrong way or doing the wrong thing. She swore to herself that if any strange man touched her head she’d scream “Paedo” as loud as she could and make a run for it.
Suddenly members of the congregation were leaving their seats and moving towards the front, where other people wearing lanyards were waiting, smiling to receive them. Kayla was reminded of a film she and her mum had watched about a creepy cult who fed off the energies of their recruits; she swallowed hard. She felt Blessing turn to leave their row of chairs. Her friend caught her concerned look.
‘This is it,’ Blessing said, her eyes gleaming. She pointed her finger at Kayla, ‘Believe. This is happening innit,’ and she grinned and hobbled off to join the queue of other hopefuls.
Kayla crossed both her fingers until Blessing was safely paired with a middle-aged white woman with a grey bob and kind eyes. She so hadn’t wanted Blessing to end up with some creepy old dude.
The band were continuing to play but it was gentle relaxing music now, like you’d get to a massage in a fancy spa, Kayla imagined. She couldn’t hear what Blessing was saying but she watched as the grey bob woman listened intently, nodding as Blessing pointed to her foot, to the ceiling, said something that made them both laugh briefly. Then they closed their eyes and the woman put her hand on Blessing’s shoulder. Blessing smiled serenely, completely relaxed and trusting under her touch. It made Kayla feel kind of lonely, seeing this side of her best friend about which she knew little and understood even less.
All around them people were praying, some out loud. Words in different languages floated across the space to Kayla. No one approached her and she began to relax just a little and believe she might get away without anything freaky happening to her. As she sat and waited, watching her best friend get prayed for, she realised she felt warm for the first time since leaving the flat. The sun was finally breaking out and filtering through the frosted windows of the hall, beginning to dry her wet jeans just a little.
Kayla took a couple of deep breaths, bowed her head and looked at the floor, deciding that it was OK to disappear into her own space like everyone else was doing. No way she was going to risk closing her eyes though. She focussed on the plush blue carpet, fluffing it gently with the toe of her trainer. Right here, right now, while no one was bothering her, she felt OK in her own space. She glanced up at Blessing and wondered if she felt the same, if that was why she came here. Surely all the God stuff couldn’t be true, could it? But Blessing had seemed so confident, what if there was something in it after all?
Kayla found herself hoping against hope that Blessing would be healed. She imagined her throwing away her crutches like someone in a film; Kayla flinging her arms around her best friend; the moment captured and the two of them going viral: Miracle Girl and her BFF. The weak sunlight was no match for the glow inside Kayla as she mentally traced her and Blessing’s path from ordinary Londoners to stardom, wealth, and happiness ever after. After all, it happened to some people, didn’t it?
Almost without realising, she found herself silently challenging whatever god was out there. If they existed, they had to do something to make Kayla believe. Otherwise, she wouldn’t bother with church again. If they showed up, she promised she’d stop copying Blessing’s homework, stop vaping, and never nick chocolate from the food and wine shop again. She surprised herself with how much she meant it in that moment. Instead of deciding, it was like it was happening to her and she was floating along with it. Her whole body felt relaxed and loose, her mind open to anything, but for once she wasn’t scared.
She was deep in her own thoughts when the music stopped, and she heard Superdry telling them the service was over. She opened her eyes, unaware that she’d closed them, and feeling like she’d been away for some time.
‘Please, feel free to stay and chat over tea and coffee,’ Superdry was saying. People around her were starting to talk to each other about everyday things all of a sudden. It was chilled, too chilled and Kayla felt a massive anti-climax when she saw Blessing returning, still on the crutches. She was smiling though.
‘I know I’ve been healed,’ she stated casually, ‘I can feel it. Just gotta wait for it now.’
Kayla was more than a bit sceptical, but she wasn’t going to shoot Blessing down. Why was everyone acting so normal though, like something extra hadn’t just happened? The Asian girl on the other side of Blessing started asking her how she was, and Blessing responded enthusiastically repeating the same statement that she’d already been healed. The girl nodded eagerly, agreeing, and Kayla felt left out.
In the row behind, a black woman in a head wrap was telling the couple next to her about her son’s internship at a city bank. Kayla suddenly felt like she’d had enough of this place. She got out her phone, which Blessing had told her to put on silent - five missed calls from her mum, shit! She signalled to Blessing that she had to bounce and headed towards the exit. At the door, an old man in a full on bright yellow African outfit tried to take Kayla’s hand,
‘My sister!’ he cried, and she pulled away in a hurry, legging it up the path. ‘Thank you for coming. See you again I hope!’ she heard called after her.
As she approached her flat, it looked to Kayla like her worst nightmare was coming true. There were two police cars parked at the bottom of the block, and she could see her front door open on the walkway above. Sick rising in her throat, she picked up her pace but the closer she got to home the harder it was to move. Her feet had never felt so heavy as she climbed those few steps up to the first floor and she could no longer get any air into her lungs. By the time she reached the landing, she was sure she was going to pass out.
She leaned over the balcony trying and failing to breathe properly again, her anxiety overwhelming her efforts. Shit! She needed to get inside the flat but the thought of what might be waiting for her in there was too much to handle. She couldn’t do this alone, she needed Blessing now, but Blessing was probably still sat on her cushioned seat, talking to her posh friends about how she was going to be healed and how wonderful all their lives were. Kayla kicked out at the railings, tears welling; It wasn’t fucking fair!
‘Kayla! Kayla, darling where ’ave you been?’ She snapped round at the voice. It was her mum, emerging safe and well out of the open door, with a policeman wandering casually behind her. In a rush, Kayla found her breath again and ran like a little kid into her mum’s arms.
‘I was about to ask the coppers to go looking for you, love. Why didn’t you answer your bloody phone?’
Kayla wanted to explain but she was suddenly crying uncontrollably and could do nothing except hug her mum. She looked up at her through her tears and realised her mum didn’t have a single bruise on her face. She registered the confusion in her mum’s eyes though, in response to this unusual show of affection from her thirteen-year-old.
‘It’s all right love,’ and she hugged her daughter to her again, ‘ You’re all right, and anyway… Guess what?’ and she was grinning now, ‘He’s gone. The bill kicked the door down this morning while he was still sleeping it off. They’re gonna do him for a big robbery, thousands, he’ll be away for years. We’re safe!’ She beamed at her daughter like her numbers had finally come up. ‘We’ll have to get a new door but,’ she shrugged, ‘I guess that’s the council’s problem, innit.’ She laughed and Kayla found herself laughing with her through her tears.
‘Come in, you’ll catch your death. You eaten anything today? Kayla wiped the sleeve of her puffer across her nose and grinned at her mum.
‘Not yet. I’m bloody starving,’ she said, and she was still laughing and crying.
As she followed her mum inside their home, her phone rang; it was Blessing. Kayla sniffed up her tears and answered.
‘Blessing, guess what. I’ve ‘ad a miracle!’
‘O! What did I tell you, my friend?’ Blessing said.