Stories were swapped about all of the “pranks” and horrific “stunts” the notorious Rochelle Banner had pulled in the past. Intelligent, beautiful, charming—the girl had it all, despite her mischievous behavior. Her flair for disruption had given her poor mother, Corinne, forehead splitting migraines since the child put on a training bra. When she turned thirteen, Shelly had proclaimed to have accepted a new religion, Judaism (the Banner family knew of no other religion outside of Methodist) and declared that she would need to have a bat mitzvah in order to make the full transition. In reality, as Shelly revealed to her younger brother Omar, she only wanted to be a Jewess because of “the wicked cash everyone gives you at the birthday party.” Not knowing about her daughter’s ulterior motives, Corinne had sent the girl to their church pastor two days later to “clear up the matter.”
Tense minutes passed. No sign of the bride, the reverend (the bride’s father) or the infamous Shelly. The overhead fans spun furiously, fighting the muggy June morning air. Ladies cooled themselves with provided cardboard fans, complete with a picture of the soon-to-be newlyweds and their names in script hovering above along with the date. Only the groomsmen and the groom stood before the expectant congregation, dark brown hands patiently clasped behind them. A line of perspiration dotted Ray’s clean-shaven upper lip which he repeatedly wiped off with a damp handkerchief.
As the guests shifted uneasily in their seats, trying hard not to wrinkle their Sunday best clothes on a Saturday, the silence of the sanctuary dispersed when a loud clatter erupted from the lobby. The buzzing recommenced instantly, wondering about the holdup and sudden commotion.
Two rushing size nine shoes sped down the hallway and burst into the sanctuary, belonging to six-year-old flower girl Megan Banner-Reynolds. The meticulous up-do of sausage curls and ringlets her mother and aunts had spent three hours on (two of which strictly devoted to straightening the child’s nappy follicles with various tools and contraptions), now lay disheveled atop her head like a large crown. Haphazard bobby pins stuck out from her head, proof that she had made a sad effort to “fix” the damage, caused by roughhousing with Emmanuel Washington, the ring bearer.
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