Upon returning to work the following week, Fred looks through his emails to catch. At some point, Rachel walks in and he looks over his glasses at her as she says,
“There is a Mr. Garvey on the phone. Line 3.”
He looks slightly shocked and responds,
“OK honey, I’ll take it.”
He picks up the phone and waves Rachel away. When she leaves, he brings the phone to his ear,
“It been a long-time old friend… Are you free for lunch or dinner?”
Some chatter from the other line and then he replies,
“Wonderful, 18:45 and the Italian spot. See you then.” After he hangs up, Rachel returns.
“Who was that?”
“A friend from the army. I’m going to eat dinner with him tonight. I’ll be home late, so let’s grab lunch together.”
She smiles with a hint of deeper, unvoiced curiosity.
“How does Café Florence sound?”
She snidely remarks,
“Sounds like a bribe.”
He sighs and curls his lips in defeat,
“Why can’t it be the joy of being out of a hospital bed?”
“Because you ordered it the other day while being in a hospital bed.”
He then nods his head and says, “12:30?”
With a semi-disdainful nod she responds, “Yep.”
When the two return from lunch they are greeted by Mona, one of the assistants,
“There’s a couple here to see pastor. He seems like trouble.”
Fred smiles as he and Rachel proceed to meet the visitor. When the couple turns the corner of the hallway leading to the office, they see the two Mona deemed as “trouble.” A young man with jet black, gaged ears smiles as they approach, while his brunette girlfriend offers a more welcoming smile. When the progressive, contemporary, interracial, and seasoned couple meet the ideological progressive duo, world views simmer.
Fred still holds a smile as they walk closer to Justin, and holding out his hand, he says, “Hello, young man. I’m Fred Ambrose and this is my wife, Rachel Ambrose. What can we do for you today?”
Justin pushes his glasses back, shakes his hand, and smiles back.
“I’m Justin. I’m from New York. And this is Marge.”
He gestures to the woman at this side. Fred invites them into the office and they all take their seats; Fred and Rachel sitting in chairs next to the large desk, and Justin and Marge settling into the chairs opposite the older couple.
Justin rolls his bead bracelets back and forth while he responds,
“Yes, we are doing a documentary on the churches in this area. I’m a lead project manager for an independent film company. We were hoping to do some interviews with you so that we could add diversity and firsthand sources to our documentary.”
Fred, continuing to smile, tries to read between the lines, losing himself in the search for a deeper meaning before realizing he must respond,
“Yes, I think I can do that.”
The two look at each other, wondering about the deeper layers of the other. They smile with a touch of fierce intensity behind sealed lips. They smile, knowing this is merely the first move in something far more intricate then a documentary for personal intrigue. The air thickens with the tension from their unwavering stare.
Rachel chimes in, trying to mitigate the situation,
“How much time do you need and how often? I am his secretary and in charge of his schedule.”
Eyes remain locked as Justin says,
“About two hours every few days, I’ll give you a tentative plan. We’ll visit some of your services and I would like to interview a few people from the congregation—is that OK ?”
Fred replies calmly but intensely,
“That’s fine. We would like to have an outline or draft of what this documentary will be focusing on as we want to make sure that my congregation are aware of what they are getting themselves into, along with a consent form.”
Justin, matching the calm intensity, says,
“I’ll email you the draft of everything so that you can look it over. Can we set up another meeting to finalize the terms and conditions?”
Rachel pulls out her planner,
“Next Wednesday at 2 p.m. should be a good time.”
Justin looks through his phone and checks his calendars and says,
“Can we start a little latter? Say 3:15?”
Rachel scans the paper and says, “Yes.”
“Perfect, we’ll see you then. Marge will help share some of the technical aspects as well.”
Fred and Justin stand up simultaneously and shake hands, eye contact breaking as they scan each other’s tattoos. Features filled with silent judgement that ebbs as the handshake ends. Rachel says,
“Have nice day and here is our card.”
She hands Marge Fred’s card and they leave, Justin scratching his bearded face as he goes. Watching with a suspicious gaze as they leave the building, Fred says to Rachel and Mona,
“I am afraid we have entered into a season that will test us.”
Mona asks,
“Why did you accept his project?”
As Fred sits down he sighs and says ,
“Mona, if I don’t we will be on a YouTube video or headlines when one person does something wrong and our ministry will be defamed in a court of public opinion. I have seen this guy. He is a seeker of churches’ dirt and skeletons. Declining his offer, as Grace United did, will only have the full force of whatever atheist or antagonistic forces from the community descending upon us. I don’t think we need to start off on the bad side of this fellow.”
Rachel’s intuition —more suspicious than Mona’s—pokes her again, this time more insistently . She wants to speak out, but with the presence of Mona she just holds it in and dutifully walks out with the assistant. Fred sits down and turns his chair to the wall, knowing that there is a long journey ahead.
When 17:45 comes, Fred emerges from his office and says to Rachel, “It’s quitting time.”
She looks at her watch and says,
“It is. What are you going to do ‘til your meeting with your friend?”
“I’m going to change, take a nap, and then be excited about seeing an old friend. Let me walk you to your car.”
She zips up her bag and purse, and with a little bit of worry she walks out of the church with Fred. He kisses her as she gets in the car and once the two wave goodbye, he returns to his office. He changes from his suit into something stylishly casual, lays on the couch and doses off, bouncing back and forth between REM and light sleep.
18:40 hits and Fred wakes up in a flurry of movement; texting Mr. Garvey to tell him he’ll be slightly late, grabbing his belongings, and rushing to his car. He practically jumps into the vehicle and drives to Sabrina’s . When he arrives he is greeted by large men in leather jackets. They search him for weapons, and then he is met by Mr. Garvey’s daughter, Selena. She guides him to the back room of the restaurant where Malik Garvey is waiting for him, sipping wine and smoking a cigar. Malik gets up and the two hug.
Malik says,
“Nice to see you, old pal. Long time no see.”
Freds smiles a few times brighter seeing an almost ancient friend and says,
“I know it’s been some years. I don’t think either of us had any grey hairs when we last saw each other, and we didn’t have kids. How are the kids?”
Malik motions for the server to bring wine for Fred and says,
“They are fine, they are busy, one is trying to actually do something with her life, but the other just wants to run around here and create businesses that fail. How about you? How are the kids and Rachel?”
“Rachel is fine now that I’m home and she doesn’t have to sleep in the hospital chair. My kids are the same: two ungrateful ones, and the other two desire things I don’t want them to, but at least they are human.”
He punctuates the end of his sentence with a laugh.
Fred looks at the server and asks for the basil pesto tortellini. Bread is set on the table and Fred begins, “Sorry I feel asleep. What’s going on, man? Why set up an appointment and not just give me a call?”
Malik turns to some of the staff and motions for them to leave. When they’re gone, Fred continues, “What’s going on man?”
Malik gives a nervous smile and says,
“You had a heart attack man, how are you doing?”
“I am doing fine unless you’re here to kill me.”
Amusement glimmers in Fred’s eyes despite his expressionless face.
“No, I would never do that. You worried everyone, and not just because some of us care about you, but because you are still needed in this community. If you didn’t wake up we would have been in a world of hurt. If I pass away someone takes my place either through a few killings or someone is given the spot. You…You die without someone to follow in your footsteps properly, our city sinks into madness. Do you understand that?”
“I do. I just—”
“Fred, why not your son, either of them? Is there not an elder or another pastor that can take responsibility? I know you have years left after you start eating better and making other changes but we can’t afford to be worried about your health. Our time is coming to an end and we need to accept it. We have been through a lot. In the army, the drugs, the women. We have made it out of that…well you did, and I have mastered it.”
The two snicker.
“Our last duty is to leave leaders that know how to operate.”
Fred takes a sip of the wine, and raises it in affirmation.
“Junior is not fit to lead. He’s the opposite of me, which normally isn’t a bad thing in the profession. Yet, even the more emotional side of me he will ramp it up ten notches and that cannot be done with everything we have going on. Jesse just wants to sing. She is vocal genius but I doubt she wants the responsibility that goes with the whole job. She also is living with a boyfriend and that can’t be focused on anymore than it already is.
The twins have a connection I believe would be crucial to the development of the church and the community but Khalil is the leader and he has no desire to be a part of this position. Unlike you I can’t force my son to fill the role as he would definitely hand it off to someone else or just leave all together.”
Fred gulps down the wine as the thought of who will follow him becomes a heavier burden to think about,
“I have thought about it. Do-Yun is not a people person, nor does he desire the position. The other pastors, great for the church—and I do mean great for the church— but their pasts are too clean, and when I try to see if they are even open to the deeper things they are non-committal at best. I haven’t thought about for some time. Not because I don’t want to give up power, but because I look around and I have appointed all my friars to archbishops while I’m pope. There is no one worthy to be pope or any who desire to be. I will pray about it.”
Malik looks at him with some sympathy and nods in affirmation of his friend’s predicament.
“Malik, if you choose wrong, I come down here to make peace or allow it to work itself out. If I choose wrong, our grandkids may not have a safe place to live. That is heavy on my shoulders. Rachel doesn’t know it fully.”
“Why not tell her? Especially now since we are reaching out to you.”
“I didn’t want her to hold that burden. I thought she would know some of it with her uncle being my predecessor, but I think she doesn’t want to know, even if she allows me to handle things.”
“Brother, I think you should tell her…She might be able to keep some eyes out when you can’t.”
“This is true. I’ll pray about that as well.”
“Look I ain’t a prophet but I don’t think you need God’s permission to bring her in on something that will affect her kids and her future. When do y’all plan to retire anyway?’
“I told her next year, but I’ve said for years, so she doesn’t believe me.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t either.”
The two laugh.
Comentarios