Chapter Fifteen

                                    

                                          
Michael
[The next day; Sunday; 3:43 pm]



"So, instead of going to a real church, you stay in your room all day and at 3:30, you FaceTime a church in Mandarin? Why not just go to church with your family?" Alma glances over at the screen.
"Xièxiè dàjiā jīntiān zài zhège měilì de xīngqítiān xiàwǔ lái. Zhòngsuǒzhōuzhī, gǎnxiè yēsū, lǐ mò hé tā de nǚ'ér gānggāng líkāi yīyuàn, zhèngzài huīfù jiànkāng. Gǎnxiè tiān fù de liánmǐn hé ēndiǎn." The crowd begins to clap in celebration of Li Moa and her daughter. It was a shame of what happened, though, based on what had occurred, the court will rule in favor of Li Moa.
"That did he say?" Alma whispers, knowing that we can be heard. I mute the call on our side so they wouldn't be able to hear us.
"He's thanking everyone for coming today and he's also announcing that this mother and child, who attend the church, left the hospital. They got into a little fender bender. The child left with just a little sprained ankle and the mother left with a very mild concussion, they're okay."
"When did you learn Mandarin?" I pay more attention to how her eyes dart across the screen like a child. Perhaps she has her own form of heterochromia, it's possible. For someone, if her skin color, it's rare to have hazel eyes with a hint of honey brown in them. But, they are beautiful...so annoyingly beautiful.
"When I was sixteen. It seems like a useful language to acquire," I say I listen to the sermon begin.
"Right, because you would totally need it for when you are lost in China," she snickers and rolls her eyes.
"That doesn't make sense," why would I get lost in China? I have no business overseas. Perhaps if a Chinaman needed assistance, considering the fact that there are over a billion mandarin native speakers, it might come in handy one day.
"It's sarcasm," she mumbles, her face crunching together in what I assume to be confused...or constipation.
"Are you constipated?"
"Wha-what?" She shakes her head and looks at me with her eyes widened. 
"No, I'm...I just don't know what they're saying. Um, do you...uh...know any other language?" She suddenly places her temple on my shoulder and watches the sermon.
"You are aware of my linguistic fluency in both dialects in Spanish. I also speak and write in Mandarin, Swahili, Italian, French, Russian, and English. That and I know American Sign Language," I take notice how the pastor takes a moment to mention a specific biblical verse about trust in God.
Daniel 6:23
He goes on, "Sometimes life is scary, we have our backs against the wall, and we feel like we are all by ourselves. The enemy is the epitome of darkness. You feel scared in the dark, like a child thinking there is a monster under their bed. But sometimes, you just need to trust your Mom or Dad when they say there is no monster under your bed. That is God, God is your father that tells you to trust him, that there may be a monster but it will never hurt you."
"What is he saying?" She narrows her eyes.
"He's talking about Daniel 6:23," I sigh.
"The king was overjoyed and gave orders to lift Daniel out of the den. And when Daniel was lifted from the den, no wound was found on him, because he had trusted in his God," She recites the verse word for word. I knew that Alma, including her family, were religious, but I hadn't realized that she was this serious about her faith.
"You're still a Pentecostal Christian, right?" I ask.
"Claro que si, my faith still as strong as when we were kids. What about you?"