The Veil by K. T. Richey Page B

bottle of anointing oil. She tipped the bottle, placing a small amount of the oil on Misha’s forehead, and began to pray for healing. After her prayer, she sat beside Misha and wrapped her arms around her. “Lord, child, the enemy wants to destroy you to keep you from preaching the gospel. But, his plan is not gon’ succeed,” she said as she turned Misha toward her. “You have a gift, a true gift from the Lawd. Peoples wit’ yo’ gift experience a lot of heartache. But God will see you through it all.”
    She opened her Bible and showed her examples of prophets in the Bible and told her all they had to endure to deliver the Word. “This cancer is not gon’ take yo’ life. You have a lot to do. You got to pray hard. Pray for yo’ life and pray fo’ you child, one from yo’ own body. You pray and I’ll pray wit’cha.”
    Misha left her grandmother’s house feeling better but still filled with anxiety as she fought the negative voices in her head telling her she was going to die. She paced the floor and recited scriptures loudly in her apartment. “God, I believe you.” Just as she gained the strength to eat something, her phone rang. She eyed the caller ID. It was her mother. She didn’t want to talk to her, but this time, she had to.
    â€œHey, Mom.”
    â€œWell, you could sound happier to hear from me. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you all week.”
    â€œMom . . . Mom . . .” Misha hesitated. She couldn’t bring herself to tell another person.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with you? You need to do something about your attitude.”
    â€œMom, look, I got cancer. Now leave me alone.” Misha pressed the end button on her phone. There was something about her mother that always made her angry. The phone rang again. It was her mother. She debated picking up the call. After about eight rings she pressed the green answer button.
    â€œSo what you trying to do, scare me or something? You know I don’t believe that lie.”
    â€œMom, it’s true. Dr. Trinidad told me today. I have cancer. I’m having surgery at Emory on Monday.”
    â€œOoooooooooh, Lord. My baby gon’ die. I knew it. I knew it. That day you laid hands on that lady in the church that cancer got on you. I knew it. Something told me you was dying.”
    â€œI hate to burst your bubble. I’m not dying. It’s outpatient surgery. I’m going home the same day of the surgery.” Misha sighed and rolled her eyes, offering up a silent prayer.
    â€œDon’t matter. When you let them start cutting on you, that’s it.”
    â€œThank you, Mother, for all your encouragement and support. I’ve got to call my pastor now. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up the phone again. She called her pastor and asked for prayer and told him about the surgery. By the time she hung up the phone, she had lost her appetite. She went to her bedroom and fell on her knees and began to pray.
    Â 
    Â 
    The next morning, she got dressed for work as if nothing were going on. She joined the other teachers in the auditorium to await the start of the meeting.
    Principal Davis got up and began his same old boring “welcome to the new school year” speech. “I know we are going to have a successful school year. We have a good team and I want you to keep up the good work.”
    He finally reached the end of his speech and Misha looked into her folder and spotted the work excuse she got from the doctor. Reading the note, she wasn’t really paying attention to what Mr. Davis was saying until she heard Roger’s name. She looked up to see Roger standing in the front of the auditorium.
    â€œMr. Williams is the counselor from the City Development League. His main focus will be to work with troubled kids and students from low-income families to prepare them for college. Y’all welcome Mr. Williams to