Chapter 14 Her Room (Lotus)
“You good?” she whispered low.
Lotus gave a ghost of a nod.
“You say Beyoncé, and I’m clearing the room.”
And then the assistant pastor walked in, flanked by half the prayer team like they were rolling deep for a holy ambush.
He looked early forties, dark brown, with tight curls slicked down and a V-neck sweater over a collared shirt. He came straight toward her like he had a Word and a witness.
“Ohhh glory,” he boomed, pulling Lotus into a firm, sweaty hug. “You are a living testimony, baby. God brought you through!”
“Amen!”
“Hallelujah!”
They turned to her mama, Ms. Carole, who was already wiping tears, shoulders shaking.
“Sista Carole,” one woman hollered, “you must got God on the main line!”
Ms. Carole nodded through her tears. “Yes, Lord… Hallelujah…”
Then the whole house tipped.
Somebody cut on that churchy praise loop with the stomps and organ riffs. Somebody else whipped out a tambourine like it lived in their purse. The living room turned straight revival. Feet stomping. Hands clapping. Aunties falling out in the Spirit between folding chairs and foil pans.
The pastor and his crew swarmed in like a holy SWAT team, laying hands on Lotus from every angle. Praying loud, rocking her like she was some kind of doll, hollering over her head while sweat flew in every direction.
The choir in the corner broke out in unison, full throttle:
“Never woulda made it!
Never coulda made it without You!”
Marvin Sapp blasting straight from their throats like a mixtape on repeat.
Right then, Ms. Carole caught the Holy Ghost for real. Two church sisters had to hook her under each arm, half dragging her across the floor while she mumbled through tears, “It was nobody but Jesus… my baby, nobody but Jesus…” Her feet were sliding like she was on ice skates, wig tilting as the sweat poured down.
That set off another chain reaction praise break number two. Saints circling Lotus, speaking in tongues, shouting so loud it rattled the windows. Tambourines clashing, feet stomping, the whole church floor shaking like a train was coming through.
And that’s when it hit Lotus the walls pressing in, chest caving tight. The noise cut sharp, the room spinning like a carousel she couldn’t get off. The crowd thought she was catching the Spirit. Truth was, she was catching a full-blown panic attack.
“Beyoncé!” she gasped.
Joy didn’t blink.
Cam was already at her other side.
Together, they lifted her out walking her through the madness like a queen carried off a battlefield.
Joy yelled at Came take her to her room he nod in agreement they .made their ways to the back yard where detach garage sit at the back of the yard where Lotus Stay.
Her room wasn’t just a room. It was a retreat a calm in the chaos in the main house
Soft pendant lights hung from a matte black ceiling track, casting warm gold glows on the pale sage walls. One corner had a built-in bench wrapped in velvet cushions, set under a window well that caught just enough sunlight during the day. Her bed—low-profile, dressed in soft linen with muted earth-toned throw pillows—sat under a woven wall tapestry she’d ordered online during her junior year of college.
Next to it, a walnut nightstand with incense cones, her crystals lined up like sentries, and a glass of half-melted hospital ice. A small round rug framed the bed, plush and clean. Her mini kitchenette had an electric kettle, a compact fridge, a few stacked ceramics. She had taste even if the budget was tight.
And best of all?
A pocket door led into her private bathroom. Tight but modern. Slate tiles. Minimalist brass fixtures. Eucalyptus hanging from the showerhead.
This space was the only place e that felt like her.