Thursday, September 24, 2009

Open Doors (9.8.9)

Open Doors (9.8.9)

It was one of those mornings he wanted to crawl back into bed and re-dream his dreams, not the those that woke him up, just the one that lulled him to sleep.

Eggs and bacon from the local deli wafted through the open kitchen window. For him, It's Cheerios and Silk this morning, it's Cheerios and Silk every morning.

There's a ripped flap of latex sitting on the coffee table, The iPod has been on "repeat" all night, "Sorry is a Sorry Word" by the Temptations again.

She wasn't very sweet as she picked up her clutch careened out the door leaving it open as she screamed, "fuck you, you sick bastard". The equestrian like clip clop of stiletto heels rhythmically disappeared into the natural reverberation of the stairwell and then echoed off the buildings walling the 6th street sidewalk. As I said, the window was open.

He put on his red collar and Crucifix for another day at the Church. He was a Pastor. The kids came in at at 8am. There was an elementary school in the basement. Outside, a rusty metal fenced playground overgrown with weeds, ivy and plastic "Have a Nice Day" bodega bags stuck underneath the diamond fence mess (leftovers from the NYC winters). There was also a paint faded basketball court (nets long gone) and sandbox not even a cockroach would dare dig in.

The basement classrooms hardly saw the light of day, they were dim and brown (but at least they stayed cool in the heat). Of course there was a cafeteria that served overcooked everything: Grey string beans, what almost looked like mashed potatoes, though seemed closer to soup, creamed corn, which in my opinion is already ruined when you buy it. So in this case it was always an improvement.

The spaghetti and meatballs was his personal favourite, but he loved the boiled franks and sauerkraut the most.

She wore a lunch lady shower cap and a very unflattering baby blue (housecoat (?) that she'd happily leave there each day). Even with that humiliating wardrobe, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever gazed upon. Maybe even more so since the cap revealed all of her divine facial features.

He would politely say, "hello" as he passed down the line, it wasn't really the pasta or the dogs he was there for, he could have avoided that heartburn by packing a lunch, it was her and that heart warming smile. She just so happened to work that station.

Sunday Sermons to prepare, passages to read, quotes and apply.

The Vice Principal is usually the disciplinarian, the watchdog, the asshole of the school. Not usually a sought after job for a man such as he, inherited actually. Pastor Quigley was perfect for it, that was until he was caught taking bribes from the parents of the troublemakers. Guess who was next in line....

Almost all of the kids loved him, flaming red collar and ornate cross. He always found a way to go light on them, and still solve the problem, get around the punishment and end on a good note. Yes there was still a clot of hoods in the school, (well hoods in development), they hated everyone, including him, but mostly themselves. They had no idea why, it was mostly because their "heroes" were gangstas, and who doesn't want to emulate their hero, at least for a little while? Make no mistake though, he knew how to handle them too.... Ex Cop and all. Actually, "Handle" might not be the operative word... more like, "outsmart". Yea, a few slipped thru the cracks...

Each day School day was more or less run of the mill. Not to many surprises aside from the odd vomiting incident (surprisingly few considering what that cafeteria had to offer). Janitor with the red sawdust, you know the drill... and the fire drills. All in all not to bad a gig though, rent paid by the church, a livable enough salary for two, and a clergy badge that pretty much allowed him to park anywhere. He never took advantage, well, not a lot.

This weeks sermon subject: Sodom and Gomorrah.

His style was far from fire and brimstone, gentile though powerful delivery No axe to grind No knife to wield, No guilt to give.

Sunday came, the Sermon was a success (whatever that means). He greeted his parishioners at the door as they left. A few private conversations. Some gossip, and the day would be done.

But this was Monday. The morning he woke up wanting to go back to bed. He wasn't in a bad mood, nope, not at all. He was still thinking about the night before... Candles, gourmet food, great Music and....

Another day finishes up, He waves to the departing buses, hands out the pull down windows, some waving back some hanging, some leaning faces pressed up against the glass.

The office needed a little tidying up, some quick meetings with a few teachers and it was off to 6th street, home again. As he walked in, he left the door unlocked. He always left it unlocked. Whose gonna rob an ex-cop Pastor?

He couldn't hear her enter, she wore sneakers. She passed thru the open door and scurried into the bathroom, he was watching CNN, in his shorts, a beer nearby.

A shower. Strange snapping sounds and a zipper. The bathroom door opens and the clip clop of stiletto hells reverberated down his apartment hall. He didn't so much as bat an eye. In fact he took another gulp of his Amstel and kept watching CNN, remote close by.
She came up behind him, put her arms around his neck, gave a slowly tightening squeeze and whispered in his ear, "how did I do last night baby, did you like it?"
He turns around and grabs her by the waist, "More than you could ever imagine". She, softly in his ear, "What games would you like to play tonight lover?" "You decide tonight baby, Holy shit that was a perfect exit this morning, wow!"

They disappear into the candlelit bedroom... the bathroom door still ajar, sneakers and a lunch lady hat on the floor.

©2009 Saphin
All Right Reserved.


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