Gold of Ophir

by Jane Aimee

  When the lady answered in the negative, he was not discouraged. "I know I am not a good guy –I will be the first to acknowledge it, knowing that honesty about wrongdoing is prized highly than dishonest piety – but you shouldn't have reservations about me. The me you see is the me you'll get; nothing to pretend about. It's not even like I'm a bad man. Just the spirituality."

  Bethany didn't answer and the young man wouldn't leave either. "Bethany, I am not that kind that will stop you from worshipping whatever you want to worship. I just love you for who you are –your manners and everything."

  Bethany remained silent.

  "This Christian classification of individuals into the 'desirables' and 'non-desirables' doesn't foster social unity, and causes a lot of you ladies to be on the losing end. There are not too many marriageable Christian men compared to the single ladies thronging the churches."

  "Kaleb, marriage is not a mere social tie; it goes way beyond that. It is a spiritual union. We are good work mates but not good marriage mates. You don't have the same values that matter most to me – even your conscience bears witness to that. So, you knew already what my decision would be. Who I am is inseparable from what I worship. If you don't want my God, you also don't want me."

  Weird! What are beliefs all about? The self-proclaimed agnostic, borderline atheist wondered as he stood watching the lady busily keying data into the computer. It hurts to look at a lady for whom you have feelings and yet an irrelevant belief system stands as a barrier. I didn't originate the feelings; they just came. What am I supposed to do?

  "Can you change your own beliefs for her sake?"

  Kaleb turned to see who spoke, but there was no one beside him. The other colleagues were in their respective positions attending to the clients. He became scared, but pondered on the question as he continued watching her. He desired her, but if it came to changing to align with her beliefs, he would NOT do it.

  The voice came again.

  "Then why do you think she's weird for refusing to change hers to accommodate you."

  It was so audible he thought the others heard it too, but no one looked like they heard it. He then judged that it was better for him to leave her alone, else something more terrible might happen next.

  Chapter Three: Another Woe

  After church on Sunday, with a headache from shouting during the kids' service, Bethany stood at the corner of the building to watch the adults come out of church. She had not seen George during the week, and since he still had not given a reply to her message, she was eager to know if he was actually in town.

  He was. She saw when he came out and stood on the paved area in front of the building with a group of friends. She waited impatiently, being more irritated by the inquiries from many people about her absence from the choir.

  There was no indication that George would look for her, so she went closer and motioned to him.

  "Hi," she said, with a shy but worried smile.

  "Hey. How 'you doing?" He had a plain face.

  "Not too well."

  "Anything the matter?"

  "Nothing much, but I guess you should already know what the matter is."

  "O I am sorry. I got so busy that I forgot to reply your text message the other day. How's work. And why were you not in the choir today?"

  Bethany began to suspect that she had been dreaming too much about the man and that the expected end might never come. She replied his inquiries as to her absence from the choir.

  An awkward pause followed her reply. She tried to engage him in more conversation but it was obvious that he didn't want to talk. She said goodbye and left for home. He returned to his friends.

  ~~~~

  Daphne met Bethany lying on the sofa, with a face that said she'd been crying.

  "I was wrong all along about George. He never had thoughts about marriage nor about me."

  Daphne was confused. She had not met George before, but she had heard a lot about him from Bethany. For the past two months, she always came home every Sunday or sometimes Wednesday nights with a gist of what George had said or done, and it was evident that he was highly interested in her.

  "I was certain that he was interested in me. Right now, I am very confused. He had never asked me out officially, but we talked a lot. I shouldn't be telling you this, you know how he would sometimes call on phone and we would talk for hours. I knew it wouldn't be long before he officially opened up about his intentions to officially date me."

  Daphne sat closer, too concerned to say a word. Her silence was better than words at that moment. She knew exactly how Bethany felt.

  "Maybe he was just a nice guy and I read much in between the lines," Bethany sighed. "But the affection and attention were unmistakable that I am sure he had something in his mind. I don't know why he suddenly changed."

  ~~~~

  The following Sunday, not completely persuaded that George was off the hook, Bethany planned to engage him into more discussions after the service. Immediately after she came out of the kids' church, she stood at the exact spot where she had stood the previous Sunday. As usual, some members kept quizzing her about her absence from the choir. She tried to be polite, but inwardly, she was irritated. Her eyes longed for George.

  He came out, but he was accompanied by a beautiful lady. Bethany had never seen her before.

  Who is she? Maybe she's his sister who's paying him a visit. But the feeling in her stomach and the thoughts in her mind said she was just trying hard not to believe what was the obvious.

  From the corner of the building where she stood, now very unaware of the greetings others threw at her, she observed keenly his gestures with the lady. She read much into every smile and watched as the pair greeted others. When he finally opened the car for her, all her suspicions were settled. That's her. That's the reason he no longer wants me. O Lord, where did I go wrong? When will it happen?

  The people questioned her absence from the choir, but compared to the sadness in her heart, that was irrelevant.

  Her feet would have given way had she not walked faster to the road to get a taxi. She found it hard restraining the tears while in the taxi.

  Reaching home, she went straight to her bedroom, locked the door behind her and fell on the bed and listened to the panic rising up in her heart.

  She had dreamt marriage was not going to take that dreadfully long to come by, but it now appeared it would be longer. There was no one on the horizon, and she didn't know when any would come along again.

  The picture of her favorite gospel singer hung on the wall above her piano stand.

  Charlette was her role model. The aspiring artist planned to sing with the same fervor and dedication. Bethany pulled out the second drawer of the bedside table. The songs she wrote were neatly filed and kept there. Under normal circumstances she would have loved to follow the vision in her heart, but first things first. I want to have a home, with kids.

  She heard the Condemner's voice in her mind –he had recently become very loud-mouthed. It's never going to happen. You missed it long time ago.

  Bethany wished she could silence him, but the more she tried to shut him up, the more he talked.

  You are only wishing Bethany. You doubt it will still happen. I can assure you: it won't happen.

  "O Lord," Bethany sobbed, "please remember me. I have served you as diligently as I know how to. Please grant me my heart desire for a godly mate."

  Chapter Four: A Birthday Party

  Samantha and Mavis answered Daphne's call to her house to help prepare for a surprise birthday party for their friend Bethany.

  Mavis lived several apartments away. Samantha had been in the neighborhood before relocating a few months back to Small London, to get closer to her church.

  Mavis was the first to come, followed minutes later by Samantha. They brought gift boxes and placed them on the table in the living room.

  Daphne had already baked a heart-shaped, chocolate-colored cake, and proceeded to cook green rice.
Samantha set immediately to decorate the cake, beautifully carving a Happy Birthday Bethy wish.

  As she worked on the food, she kept taking in tablespoonfuls of the frosting. Daphne, who was cutting fruits for Mavis to make a purée, did not fail to caution the overly fleshy lady on the dangers of too much sugar and fats.

  "Samantha, too much sugar and fats not good for your health. You're already fattened enough." Daphne carefully threw in a humorous tone to avoid offense.

  Samantha remained quiet for some time before replying. "What good did I achieve when I was as thin as a needle? Who will care if Samantha were crawling on the ground from overweight?" She concluded her response with another spoonful of the sweet mixture.

  "We will," Daphne answered, looking at Mavis. They were accustomed to Samantha's classic response about her weight.

  "Why would I expect you to say differently?" Samantha asked, going into the kitchen while scraping the bowl which had contained the mixture with the spoon to put in her mouth.

  Staring at Daphne, Mavis threw in a joke. "You're lucky you don't attend our church; you would have been greatly offended by a common joke: "as fat as those who eat their tithes."

  The statement made Daphne uncomfortable; it could probably get Samantha enraged. Samantha came out of the kitchen to inspect her decoration of the cake.

  "I have heard worse than that, Mavis. And if that joke was truth, you would be the fattest among us."

  Daphne turned her gaze on Mavis, her eyes begging for a refutation of their friend's statement. Mavis defended herself: "We all know things are difficult. That peanut salary of an office worker hardly goes through the first two weeks after payday. When I'll get a better job, Lord knows I (--)"

  "Nobody lacks what to spend money on," Samantha replied. "Just accept the truth: you don't want to pay tithes. The bigger the salary, the longer the list of things to spend the money on."

  "No," Mavis disagreed. "I would learn to discipline myself and pay tithes when I begin to earn more."

  "Mavis, the truth is that if you don't discipline yourself in the little, you would still not be able to discipline yourself when you have plenty," Daphne said. "The Lord Jesus said if one is not faithful with little, he would not be entrusted with much."

  "You think he applied that to paying tithes?" Mavis asked. "Was He not talking about spiritual gifts?"

  Mavis spotted Bethany through the window. Daphne quickly lit the candle and the three friends stood by the door, ready to shout a surprise birthday wish.

  Bethany was at first scared of the unexpected faces screaming "happy birthday Bethy"! But the last word of the phrase was barely gone out of their mouths when her facial expression turned to sorrow. Not responding to the wishes, she entered the living room and looked at the table set in her honor: the cake, the food, the drinks and the gifts.

  "Thank you," she said coldly, sitting on the sofa.

  "But welcome to the club of the super singles would have been much more preferable than a happy birthday wish."

  The mood in the house turned gloomy; not even the moody Samantha expected that response from Bethany.

  "No matter what Bethy, it's just an appreciation to God for another year," Daphne tried to console.

  "It doesn't feel cool anymore adding another year. There's nothing about adding another year to be thankful to God for."

  "How old are we talking about?" Samantha asked. Bethany replied, "Officially thirty one."

  Samantha went immediately to the table and put out the flame of the candle with her left index finger and thumb. Taking the knife, she sliced a fair chunk of the cake and sat down on a dining chair and began to eat.

  "Thirty one and you are complaining?" She asked. "Do you know my number?"

  None of the friends knew Samantha's real age – she never told anyone – but they would place her with Daphne at thirty six.

  Bethany felt bad. She wished she could pretend and be able to appreciate the gesture of her friends. "Daphne, I just can't suppress my feelings nor pretend to be excited. I do appreciate your effort to throw a party for me but I just have to let you know how I feel."

  "When I was a young girl," Samantha came in again, "I visualized myself at thirty with a good job and married with three kids. Today, I am far above that number – I don't even mention it again; my stomach can't stand to hear it – with a job but no husband, no kid. Life can be unfair, you know."

  An awful silence followed for almost a minute, with Samantha helping herself to the cake while the others tried to make sense out of her words.

  "Life is unfair to women," Samantha continued. "A man on his dying bed can still get married if he wants to but a woman cannot, even if she has the money to buy and maintain a guy. And then the most disgusting is society's evaluation of one as if some kind of curse or hex is upon you."

  "It's nauseating hearing you ladies talk." Mavis hadn't spoken since Bethany came in and ruined the mood.

  "I'm twenty nine – not official though – and I honestly don't want to clock thirty still single. The prospects don't look good thereafter."

  "Do we need reminders of that?!" Samantha shouted with a full mouth. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

  What was more obvious was that if they didn't wake up to join her in the eating of the cake, Samantha was about to eat as much as half of it alone. Her anger at the topic could only be pacified by chunks of the sugary food being gulped down her throat, almost without mastication. She was greatly ticked off. Her dreams had been dashed by life circumstances and she hated being hinted of her failure.

  "I don't want to remain single. Lord knows I (--)"

  Mavis didn't get to complete the statement.

  "Mavis, will you shat'up? Shat'up!" And Samantha had had enough. She gulped down her drink, took her handbag and went out in rage. Each remaining lady served herself and ate in silence.

  ~~~~

  Samantha came into her dark apartment and switched on the lights. The usual lonely greeting it reserved for her was there. Every item stood where she had kept it; no rat or even a fly disturbed anything. The cemented floor was unusually cold –not just in its temperature but even in the way it stared up at her.

  She stood behind the closed door for a considerable length of time, looking at each item in the living room: a small round table, covered with light blue and white checkered, cloth stood in the middle of the room, a vase at the center of the table, two dining chairs, a couch just beside the door. The television used to be in the living room but she had taken it to the bedroom.

  An arch separated the living room from a small portion that served as the kitchen where there was the kitchen cabinet with the gas stove at the top, and shelves on the wall above where other utensils were kept.

  A bunch of ripe bananas beckoned on her from the table. She had had enough from the birthday party, yet she still impulsively approached the table and sat on the chair, taking a finger from the bunch.

  The Condemner's voice came forcefully, your God has treated you poorly, re-echoing Roland Baye's words.

  He was the fifty years old former Administrator of the St. Lawrence & Serita Hospital, Beaumont, where Samantha worked as an Administrative Assistant. He left almost a year back but it had been hell for Samantha when he was there. He had severely taunted the lady as a retaliatory move for her rejection of his opportunistic advances.

  "Miss-is Samantha Bibber," he would say, putting emphasis on the mockery title, "religious faith is useless if it doesn't add value to one's life. I would say yours is more of a talk and no show Christianity…I can guarantee you: you are waiting in vain. So you might as well relax those standards of yours – if not for me, at least for someone else. You can't take those assets to the grave. You need to fulfill the purpose for which God made them…You thinking some guy will fall from heaven, for whom you were created, go down on one knee and propose? That happens in the movies, not in real life. You are too old for such romance."

  And he would let out a fiendish laugh that revealed b
oth his sadism and his disappointment at not having his wanton desire satisfied.

  "You have some little resolve left 'cause there's still some glimmer of hope. When you finally clock forty-five and menopause knocks on your door, I swear all resolve would be gone…You know I just feel sorry for you. Unless a man loses his wife by death or divorce, there's no hope for you…Maybe you think it's some great beauty or youthfulness I found in you. I have a beautiful wife in her thirties; just that as a man, one must flirt around."

  She had searched for years after school to get a good paying job, and getting another might not be easy. She wouldn't then let her anger loose on the boss, preferring to let him continue spewing out those disgusting words which re-echoed in her memory to mock her when she was alone.

  "Report the harassment to the hierarchy. That hospital should have a Board of Directors," her mother had advised.

  Samantha had not agreed. "Mum, who will take an Administrative Assistant's word against the Administrator—I mean they'd acknowledge it can happen but that's as far as they would go about it."

  "Then seek another job. The environment you work in is very unhealthy, though the job pays well."

  "Mum, you talk as if quitting a job and finding another one is easy. You know how I struggled for many years before securing this job. Besides, people are the same everywhere, just in varying degrees in their opinions."

  Samantha then recounted an incident at a certain reception in the city where she had sat close to some respectable ladies with whom she conversed jovially for a greater part of the evening. They kept addressing her as Madame, as in the title for married women. When the ladies later discovered Samantha's single status, their countenances looked embarrassed, not just because of their assumption, but also at such a misfortune as to be that old and not yet married.

  "O sorry, I didn't know," one said, with a smile that tried to conceal her surprise but it was too late; she had betrayed herself.