The prayer meeting that evening was different, and Enza could feel it the moment the small group from New Hope Village Church filtered into the room. The usual soft murmurs of conversation, the quiet but determined atmosphere of faith, had been replaced with something heavier, something somber. It felt more like a wake than a gathering of hope and prayer.
Enza busied herself behind the counter, wiping down the surface, pretending not to notice the subtle glances thrown her way. The group had been meeting here regularly for months, always quiet, always respectful, but tonight there was an undeniable tension in the air. She could feel it creeping up on her, and though she wasn't one to pry, she knew something was different.
After a few minutes, when the silence had settled too thickly around them, she decided to speak up. She stepped closer to the group, her voice warm but firm. "You are all still very welcome here," she began, "but it seems to me that I am no longer welcome to sit with you."
The group shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. A few of them exchanged nervous glances, while others looked down at their hands. The leader of the group, a woman named Anna who had always been friendly, opened her mouth as if to say something but then hesitated.
Enza wasn't angry—not really. She understood that the Christians had their beliefs, their lines they wouldn't cross. But she had noticed a change recently, especially after she'd taken the Mark. While she hadn't expected them to applaud her decision, she hadn't anticipated the distance it would create either. They had been wary before, knowing her beliefs in the old goddesses, but now the divide felt deeper, sharper.
"You've all prayed here before," Enza continued, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. "And I've always asked just one thing. I've asked you to pray for me, just a little. But now it seems you can't even do that anymore."
Anna looked up, guilt flashing in her eyes. "Nonna Enza, it's not that we don't want to… it's just…"
"You can't," Enza finished softly. "I understand. But it hurts a little, you know? I've let others pray here too—Jews, Hindus, even a few Pagans. And all I've asked of them is the same. 'Please pray for me, if just a little.' And they have, with kindness. But now, it seems I'm not worthy of your prayers."
The room was thick with discomfort, the Christians clearly struggling with how to respond. They didn't know what to say, torn between their faith and the kindness Enza had shown them. But she wasn't trying to guilt them. She truly did understand. She wasn't one to force anyone to go against their beliefs.
"Well," she said, smiling gently, "I'm not going to force you."
Anna looked down again, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. The others remained silent, unsure of what to do with this unexpected conversation.
Enza let the silence linger for a moment, then, with a soft laugh, broke it. "Instead," she said, her tone lighter now, "give me a hug. No, two hugs. One today, and one… well, now that I've figured out how to use this cell phone, I'll send you a text, and you can come give me it then. Deal?"
The tension in the room eased a little as the group processed what Enza had said. A few of them chuckled softly, the awkwardness lifting just enough for them to breathe again. Anna looked up, her expression softening, and after a moment, she stood and walked over to Enza.
"I can do that," Anna said, her voice quiet but sincere.
Enza opened her arms, and Anna stepped into the embrace. It was warm, genuine, and for a moment, the weight of all their differences seemed to fall away. When they pulled apart, Enza smiled brightly and waved to the rest of the group.
"Come on, now," she said playfully. "I don't bite."
One by one, the members of the group stood and hugged her. Some were quick and a little stiff, others lingered, their arms squeezing her tightly as if unsure how else to express their gratitude. Each hug felt like a small act of peace, a gesture that went beyond words.
When the last person had hugged her, Enza stepped back, her hands on her hips, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it? And don't forget, I'll be texting you for that second hug."
The group laughed, the tension fully broken now, and as they settled back into their seats to resume their prayers, Enza returned to her place behind the counter, feeling a strange mixture of contentment and sadness. She knew that the world was changing, that her place in it was becoming more precarious by the day. But for now, she still had this—this little sanctuary, this place where people could gather and feel safe, even if they couldn't pray for her.
Later that night, after the group had left, Enza sat alone in the quiet restaurant, her fingers brushing over the cell phone Naomi had given her. She had finally learned how to use it, though she still fumbled with the buttons more often than not. She smiled to herself, thinking about how strange the world had become. A woman like her, an old-fashioned cook, learning to text and use a fancy cellphone in the middle of the Tribulation.
But then again, she'd always been practical. She did what was needed to survive.
She composed a simple message, her fingers tapping slowly on the screen.
"Thank you for the hug. I'll let you know when I need the second one. :-) —Enza"
With a chuckle, she hit send and placed the phone on the counter, letting the quiet settle around her once again.
No matter what happened in the days ahead, she would keep doing what she had always done—helping, surviving, and maybe, just maybe, finding little moments of warmth in the darkness.