[The fifth of six vignettes in the publication The Withered Grape which describe picture scenes in navigating self denial and self control through the seas of legalism and freedomism.]
Orlando had not chosen a table. The fact that he looked at you as you returned to the coffee house let you know he had waited for you. The smile on his face embarrassed you.
Orlando had not chosen a table. The fact that he looked at you as you returned to the coffee house let you know he had waited for you. The smile on his face embarrassed you.
"So," he said as the two of you
sat. "That didn't look like a friendly chat."
"Not one of the better ones, I
guess," you reply guardedly.
"She goes to your church,
right?"
"Um hmmm."
"She the one who made quite an impression on
Farley."
Your ears get warm at the memory of the
college kid you met at the shop and invited to join you at church on Sunday.
You can still see him trapped in the corner as Mrs. Smythe performed her duty of
explaining the inappropriateness of bringing his skateboard into the building.
"Why do you go to that church?"
The question snaps you back to the
present. Your brain scrambles for coherence.
"It...it's right down the line on who
Jesus Christ is and the importance of the Scriptures and the pastor is a great
guy and he's trying hard to..."
"Let me guess," Orlando
interrupts. "She's not happy about you coming here."
You sigh. "Not especially." Then
you brighten. "But Pastor Frits is. He may join me sometime soon."
"Yeah, I hear he's cool. But
personally..."
Now you interrupt. "And, there are a
lot of other folks who're cool, too. And Jesus means a lot to us and..."
Orlando leans on the table. "Jesus
means what?"
Now this is a subject you can get into;
but even as you enthusiastically let your awe for God's Son spill out, the
ghost of Brunhilde Smythe hovers over your table ready to wipe it away.
Previous: You and Brunhilde at The Dead Salamander
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