With the click of a button, a sermon begins in a quaint living room.
The first sight is of proliferating sweat particles and airborne saliva.
The first sound is a cry of The New Testament from a reverend’s dried lips.
The camera pans to an empty sanctuary, and there I find the ghost of sister Betty.
She passionately nods as pastor John gives a sermon of a God-forsaken people.
Sister Betty was the first to go.
Was she the most to sin?
Will she now know the truths behind the plague?
To my right, baby brother learns that God has abandoned him.
I meet the reverend’s eyes and drown his revelations with my pondering.
To whom do we call on when God has turned his back on us?
To whom do we turn when the plague calls our name?
The commoners have all become pundits.
And loved ones statistics
The sermon ends so a queued video of Black and Blue Life protests can begin.
It’s a response to a man resembling my father being left black and blue in the streets.
In the next frame, a politician blames ‘nation zero’ for the plague.
Baby brother learns his ABCs and how to comply.
Often, I’ll weigh myself with tears in my eyes.
The tears transfer to a bucket of warm water drawn for my mother’s aching feet.
I grab the Icy Hot and ready myself to hear the horrors of Patient Y turned Statistic Z.
I learn that Patient Y was a white collar with a disdain for blue collars and blue masks.
There exist many Patient Ys in the Deep South.
I join the Zoom call in a class filled with future Patient Ys.
Talk of derivatives and integrals fill my earbuds.
But my mind buffers like my internet connection.
In the moments when the faces are static, I judge room decor and gauge income.
I’ve digitally blurred my own surroundings.
Blurred is my image of the old normal.
Blurred is my reality in the new one.
Jody Adeyemo is a third-year Biology student at Cornell University. She was born in Ibadan,
Nigeria, but spent much of her adolescence in Lafayette, Louisiana, where she developed her
love for seafood and Zydeco music. As a 1st-generation Nigerian living in the south, she often
struggled to find footing. She then turned to the page to provide her with a platform. At ten, her
first story was published in the French fiction section of the “Louisiana Writes” annual writing
contest. Her short stories and poems often center around fictional characters and plots, with
pieces of her identity weaved in. As a hopeful future physician, she enjoys incorporating medical
terminology and imagery. Overall, she hopes to reveal a bit of her story in each piece.
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