by Paul Cwalina
“Nice view,” I said.
“Yes,” she said, then drew a long, deep breath and exhaled. “It certainly is.”
Idiot. Keep your mouth shut. This is hard enough on her.
We walked back in and I glanced quickly at the two bedrooms and bathroom.
“Well, I need to get back to work,” Lydia said. “I will see you tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”
“Okay. Thank you so much for the ride.”
She turned and walked out. I watched her through the front window as she walked to her car. She turned around, looked at the house for a moment and put her head down and shook it before getting into her car and leaving.
Oh, yeah. This is going to be a blast.
I unpacked and settled in a bit. I changed into shorts and a t-shirt and spent the next hour or so on the deck just baking the previous week out of me. I thought to myself that Sarah would love this heat. She would revel in it. Then I thought about the distance between us, now; the distance between me and everything I had always known.
I stayed in touch with Diane, but almost exclusively through text messages. We had been friends for far too long not to, but I still felt the sting of learning of her meddling between Sarah and me.
Chelsea and I talked by phone often. We never lost the ability to make each other laugh. Each of our conversations included subtle and not-so-subtle hints from her to let her come down to St. Croix to be together. I almost gave in and told her to come down during one of those calls. I have no idea why I held back.
Chapter Sixteen
Working at the resort was little more than a well-organized disaster for me. While my experience as mayor sharpened my personnel skills and I could organize and get people to act, I had no clue as to what they should be doing. I performed about as well as one would expect a disgraced former mayor with no experience in hospitality would do running a resort.
Lydia, though, was the consummate professional. She trained me in everything I needed to know about the resort and how to run it. She was exceedingly patient with me throughout my process of trial-and-error, cleaning up whatever mess I made and bailing me out when things went awry. I could see it in her eyes, though, every time she had to do that she died a little inside knowing that I was given the position that she had earned.
Lydia rarely let a day or opportunity pass by without reminding me to call Pastor Zee. With a free house and free meals in either of the restaurants at the resort, though, I had no burning incentive to set up the meeting and avoided it for as long as I could. Edmond, though, was getting impatient and made the appointment for me.
It was 11:30 on a Saturday morning when Lydia called from the front desk. “Pastor Zee is here to see you.”
Ugh. Forgot about that. “Okay, is the restaurant open for lunch yet?”
“Yes, sir.”
“OK, send him over there. I will meet him in a couple minutes. Tell them to get him whatever he wants. No charge.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Wait, what does he look like? I’ve never met him before,”
“He’s black, sir.”
Well that narrows it down on one of the Virgin Islands.
“Can you help me with anything else?”
“Grey hair, sir. Short. Nobody else is gonna be in the restaurant, sir.” Her disdain and condescension found their emphasis in the word ‘sir’.
“Ok, thank you.”
It’s official. Lydia is a member of my fan club.
I picked up the pace of my walk into a light jog across the campus of the resort. The sky was quickly darkening to the southeast. A serious storm was brewing and headed our way. To my left, I could see people on the beach slowly taking down their umbrellas and folding their chairs as they prepared to seek cover. I made it into the shade of the second floor balcony and entered the cafe. After my eyes adjusted to the lower lighting, I saw the pastor sitting at the first table.
Pastor Zee was, indeed, easy to recognize. His skin was black as coal and his short, curly hair was a bright steel grey. The contrast was mesmerizing. He wore those round, wire-rimmed Lennonesque glasses and a shirt that suggests he shops in the same stores as Edmond.
“Pastor Zee?” I asked, extending my hand
“Yes, you da mayor?” he replied, shaking my hand.
“Former mayor, yes.”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” he said shaking his head and looking down. “I am sorry to hear dat, sir. Edmond told me. Please sit.”
“Thank you. Did you order something to eat? Our treat...well, Edmond’s, anyway.”
“Oh, I’m fine, sir. The water is all I need, tank you.”
“Are you sure? I’d be getting lobster or a steak if someone else was buying.”
“Well, I suppose we are different dat way, sir.”
I’m feeling suspicious of his ‘sirs’
“Fair enough. So, what else did Edmond tell you?”
“That he cares about you very much. He tinks you will still do great tings. But you need to focus on different tings and let go of different tings first.”
“Edmond is a very special person. I cannot even begin to describe how bad I feel that his effort was wasted on me.”
“Oh, I don’t tink he feels that it was wasted, sir. No, no...not at all, sir,” he said before changing the subject. “So, what do you tink of our island? It is nice, yes? Different from your American home, yes?”
“Very nice. I suppose people would look at me strange if I said anything other than it’s like paradise, right?”
He chuckled, “Yes, many, many people would like to be here. You are fortunate.”
“From that perspective, you are probably right, but I’m not feeling fortunate these days.”
“Yes, for sure, you have had some trouble, yes?”
“That would be the understatement of the century, pastor.”
“Yes, dat is a new challenge for you, wouldn’t you say?”
“Certainly is.”
“Edmond tells me, though, dat you still have old challenges you must deal with, yes?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Edmond says d’ere are tings you need to let go, yes? I would like to start with that. Let’s start wit da letting go.”
I wasn’t thrilled about having to talk to a pastor, but he wanted to get right down to business. My kind of guy. With a paycheck hanging in the balance, I was alright with playing along.
“First, tell me, are you a Christian?” he asked.
“I’m a nothing.” After a quick pause, I added, “in every sense of the word, apparently.”
“Oh, ok. Well, let me ask you, what do you know of the crucifixion of Jesus?”
I sighed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that a pastor would go Bible on me. Go ahead.”
“Pardon?”
“Never mind. Go ahead.”
“OK, you know dat Jesus was crucified on a cross, yes?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And who crucified Him?”
“Pontius Pilate, right?”
“Well, no. Who brought Jesus to Pilate?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
“The Pharisees. Jesus was a threat to them, yes? I don’t want to tell the whole story...”
Thank you
He continued, “The Pharisees brought Jesus to the Romans and to Pilate to have him killed, yes?”
“If you say so. You kinda know more about this than I would.”
“Yes, yes, yes. Now, the Roman soldiers, they whipped Jesus. They beat him. They didn’t just hang him on a cross. They nailed him to da cross, yes? All the while, the Pharisees watched and were glad. Now, do you know what Jesus did when he was hanging on the cross dying? He prayed for forgiveness for the Pharisees. He asked the Father to forgive dem, yes? The very people who put him on da cross, he forgave, he prayed for, yes?”
“Forgive them for they know not what they do,” I said, recalling what little of the Bible I had heard.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Pastor Zee said excitedly, probably surprised that I knew that line. “Imagine dat! A man dying in a most agonizing way on the cross and does he wish vengeance on the people who are killing Him? Does he spit at dem? Does he curse dem? No, he forgives dem. Now, tell me, do you know someone you should be forgiving?”
“No,” I quickly and emphatically replied.
“Are you sure, sir? Nobody?”
“Nobody that deserves it.”
He shook his head, probably thinking he’s in for a long, long day. I looked out the window and the sky was rapidly darkening and the first raindrops were hitting the windows.
“Hmmm...yes, I see. Let me ask another way. Do you tink there is something you’ve done to someone for which you should be forgiven?”
“I don’t know, Pastor. People do things to each other. It comes out even in the end, I guess.”
“Oh, you tink so?”
“That’s what I see, anyway.”
“And how do you know when dat ‘end’ is?”
I thought about that, but didn’t have an intelligent or a witty response so I didn’t reply to his question.
He paused and looked around the restaurant. He thought for a moment. “You know, you Americans have a saying ’revenge is a dish best served cold’, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” The words ‘yes, yes, yes’ come out of his mouth like bullets out of a machine gun. “Dat is popular to say in America, yes? People like making and serving dat dish, yes?”
I smiled at his enthusiasm and said, “Yes, I suppose.”
“Ah, but what people don’t realize is dat every cook making dat dish infects himself with a poison as he prepares da dish. Every ingredient in dat dish is poison to da soul, yes?”
He stopped and looked at me for agreement or at least acknowledgement. I managed to say, “Yeah, okay.” Yeah, yeah...whatever...get to a point.
“Do you understand what it is I’m saying?”
“Yeah...I guess.” No idea...
“Do you know what da worst part is? Dat cook spreads dat poison to everyone around him when he prepares and serves dat dish, not just the one to whom he will serve it; everyone he comes in contact with is affected by dat poison. You see?”
He stopped again and wanted agreement from me. I nodded a ‘yes’ or at least an ‘okay’.
“Here’s more about dat dish you call revenge: every time it is prepared, no matter who is preparing it, it is prepared in the same kitchen; da one that is always missing da most important ingredient. And what is dat ingredient?”
“Garlic salt,” I offered, hoping in vain for a laugh.
“Garlic salt? No, no, no, sir. Why you tink garlic salt?”
“Sorry, Pastor. It was just a joke.”
He smiled and said, “Oh, ok. You like to make jokes, yes? D’ere is a time for dat, sir.” Then he quickly took away the smile before continuing, “Dis is not dat time.”
I’m in a new world, now. Better shut up.
“Now what is dat ingredient?” he asked again.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m bad at this.”
“Forgiveness, sir! Forgiveness! Instead of preparing dishes like revenge, serve with forgiveness as the main ingredient. Dat is a dish dat nourishes the soul. Dat is a dish dat keeps everyone around the cook healthy, especially dat cook who was in the wrong kitchen, yes?”
I think I know which word he says more than any other..yes?
“That’s fine, Pastor, I get it. But you have no idea what this bit...sorry...what this woman did to me.”
“Oh, I see...I see.” He thought for a quick moment and continued. “Tell me, did dis woman use a whip on you to cut up da skin on your whole back? And with your wounds still fresh and your body tissue exposed, did she lay you down on a rough, scratchy, wooden cross? Did she drive nails through your hands and feet on a cross and leave you to die?”
“Of course not, but...”
“Den it really doesn’t matter what she did, does it? Jesus set da standard for forgiveness, yes? Jesus took on all sin, yes? Should we go over dat part again?”
“No...whatever. Go ahead.”
Outside, the wind was growing rougher. Palm trees were bending to its will, loose lounge furniture was sliding across the courtyard, and the rain was being blown almost sideways.
He continued, “Dis woman, she was unfaithful?”
My anger was brewing thinking about Sarah, now. “Yes, she was a lying whore is what she was...,” I said before catching myself, again. “Sorry.”
“I see,” he said slowly and then continued, “Tell me, do you know of the encounter dat Jesus had with da adulterous woman?”
Aaannnddd...back to Sunday school
“Do you know what happened in that encounter?” he persisted.
“Is that the ‘cast the first stone’ story?”
“Yes, yes, yes!,” he said, very excited as his eyes widened with unexplainable joy. He clapped his hands together. “Oh, I’m so glad you know it by dat verse. Too many people focus just on da woman or on what Jesus said to her. Yes, yes, yes...the important part is da people He stopped from stoning da woman. Jesus said, ‘Let he who is without sin cast da first stone.’ Oh, the power of that one sentence, my friend! All in dose few words He packed so much, yes? He taught dem humility, yes?”
“I suppose, yes,” I said.
“What else did He teach them?”
Why must this be question and answer? Just tell me what you want to tell me. In my mind, remembering what Edmond told me about my pay, I was increasing my future paychecks three-fold for having to put up with this. “I don’t know...they were no better than her because they sinned, too?”
“Yes, yes, yes! We all sin. What else?”
“Really? I didn’t think you were in the sinning business, Pastor.”
“Still not da time for jokes, sir,” pastor Zee said, shaking his head.
...that’s a hard habit to break.
“Um,” I stumbled. “..I’m sorry. What else?”
“My friend, we just talked about it...forgiveness!”
“Ah, yes, ok. Forgiveness.”
“Yes, yes, yes. Now, what happened after Jesus said dat to them?”
“No idea.”
“D’ey realized He was right, yes? D’ey saw the darkness of their own hearts, yes? Den what?”
“Pastor Zee, you’re killing me. Just tell me.” Oops, that one was out loud.