“And now, let us greet one another, in the Love of Christ.”
A wave of sound coming up, of chattering and laughing, accompanied by a collective rising to our feet. In the row in front of me, a small, slight girl with deep red hair slightly bleached by the sun falling straight to her shoulder blades, rose to her feet. She turned toward the aisle, only glancing up at me quickly then looking back at the ground ten feet in front of her. She walked down the row slowly toward the aisle, and when she drew even with me she hesitated, still looking down. My hand began to move slowly from my side; she quickly raised her hand to meet it. Her hand was warm, soft, dry, and so small it just slipped into mine; her fingers were not long and aquiline, but small and slight. As our hands touched, her eyes finally rose to meet mine. I held gently and firmly without squeezing; her hand was loose, like that of an aristocratic lady expecting to have it kissed. She said “Good morning,” with no facial expression, and I replied the same with a slight smile. She looked to be fourteen, maybe thirteen, and braces showed when she spoke. She wore a very dark makeup on her eyelashes, which gave her a slightly gothic look, like one who always has black tears welling up in her eyes. Her eyes fell so quickly that I was not sure whether they were blue or green. I think they were blue with a hint of green. In the last moment before our hands fell back to our sides the thought crossed my mind how like that handshake an embrace would be. Just as her small, slight hand folded into mine, her small slight body would fold into mine. I would hold her gently and firmly without squeezing; she would hold me loosely, like a lady expecting to be kissed. The service flew by drowsily for a while. Then the preacher requested that we hold hands as we sang the last verse of “We Shall Overcome”. Like a caterpillar, the row accordioned so that all occupants could be close enough together to hold hands. I found myself directly behind her, and she had no one at her right to hold her hand. I had no one to my right either. She glanced, not back, but to the side. I reached forward to take her hand. An irrepressible smile split her face, and she quickly turned to the front to keep me from seeing. I smiled. This time her hand was not warm, but hot, and began to sweat. Everyone faced forward and sang.
