Being Celeste

Read Being Celeste for Free Online

Book: Read Being Celeste for Free Online
Authors: Tshetsana Senau
sitting
behind her. They flashed smiles at me as soon as they saw I was coming over. Oh
my gosh, I actually may have friends at church, who would have thought? Me.
Celeste, a part of something. I think I should do an imaginary celebratory
dance to celebrate. I think I’m excited about the luncheon next weekend. Anna
and the boys promised me fun and good food.
    Although I must admit, the sermon was a bit
on the long side. I think the pastor pulled a good forty-five minutes on us. By
the time we were at fifteen minutes, my mind had drifted to another place. I
looked over at Anna with the corner of my eye and she was so attentive, it was
as if there was a quiz after, or she was about to comment on what the pastor
was saying. If I were that passionate about the sermon, I would be
listening attentively too, who wouldn’t? His voice was so captivating and loud,
to grip even the most fragile minds...except mine, that is. All the nodding and
the silence in the church, how do they do that? I was thinking of my future, as
always. My mind was bouncing from my career and Taboka. I was trying to mesh
them together. I was trying to imagine the possibility of making them work
together, if it were possible for me to have two things that I want at the same
time. I’m all for positive thinking, but sometimes one can’t have it all. But
anyway, I think I may have partially dozed off during the sermon because
normally when I start thinking about stuff like that, I fall asleep and hope to
dream about it. I don’t think anyone noticed my head bobbing about, all drowsy
from the sleep. I hope not, my new friends would think I was a joke. A nice
lady started off a song after the pastor’s sermon was over. The piercing
screech when the song went higher from her voice did it for me. Yep, I fell
wide awake after that.
    It’s my birthday in six months. I’ll be
twenty-two. I don’t feel like celebrating. The thought is just gnawing at the
back of my head, making me think all sorts of things, depressing things. What
should I do now, talk about it? It would further depress me, I think. I’m
thinking about when this whole career thing will fall in my path, something for
both Kate and I. But I’m so old (this is the part where I come down on myself
again). I’m so old but immature. At first I thought I was being a late bloomer
but no, I’m just immature. I called Kate earlier to tell her that I’m going
over to her house for a sleepover . Hear that, a sleepover. We’ll have
movie night there because I need some solace in her company. She always knows
how to calm down my paranoia. I know that it is winter, but we are having ice
cream and cokes to wash it down. That’s how we throw pity parties. She’s been
pretty miffed by the fact that she hasn’t seen her man of mystery since that
day in the store. I don’t get it, but I’ll just play along because it’s a pity
party. I always like going over to Kate’s house. They have the coolest high
definition flatscreen, perfect for movie night. And her parents are such
darlings. They are always popping in, offering food and snacks, making sure we
are well fed.
    “Darling, come make your father some tea,
I’m popping outside to refurbish my vegetable patch,” said mum, standing at my
bedroom door.
    Ugh! The joys of making tea when you’re in
the middle of a mental crisis! I’m going to be twenty-two and I have nothing to
show for it. I’ll make the tea and rush over to Kate’s before I have a nervous
breakdown. Mum will borrow me her car, she won’t mind. Where does a retired
person need to be on Monday morning? I’ll put it in those words. Mum doesn’t
like me driving her car, because of this one incident where I almost crashed it. It’s a long story. Okay, maybe not. I was driving to the store to
get a few supplies for the fridge. This idiot was driving really slowly, so I
tried to pass him. Now my mother’s car is such an antique, it picks up speed so
slowly. So here I am, trying to

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