Previously... Stephanie was jubilant about the recovery of sensation in her lower legs... Claire was taking Stephanie to the park for a little exercise. It was a lovely mild day. Stephanie’s skin prickled with pleasure as she felt the sun’s rays on it – it had been so long since she’d been outside, actually. Stephanie had received her first session of physical therapy at the clinic the day before. The doctors were dumbfounded by her miraculous recovery of sensation. It would be a while before she regained full use of her legs, and she wasn’t to rush it, they warned – but it looked like Stephanie would walk once more. She should only do small increments of exercise every day, they informed Claire, who went with Stephanie to the therapy sessions. The idea was to slowly build muscle tone, where her muscles had wasted over the period of paralysis. Trying to walk too perfectly too fast might overload weak muscles, and damage the process. “Now,” said Claire, wheeling Stephanie in her chair along one of the paths of the park. “Remember what your doctor said. No more than ten minutes walking, and you have to use the crutches.” “Ah, I just can’t wait to get out of this chair. Promise me something, Claire.” “What is it?” “When I’m of this stupid chair, we need to go to the highest mountain peak in Breyton’s Bay, and throw the damn thing off!” Claire laughed as she pushed an excited Stephanie. “Ok,” Claire said, through laughter, “you have yourself a deal.” They stopped at a pretty section of paved walkway, by the pond. Claire assisted Stephanie out of the chair, gave her the crutches crutches, and went to a point ten metres away. “Ok, the doctor said we need to do this five times, and you must stay on your crutches.” “I’m so sick of listening to that doctor,” grumbled Steph. “The crutches give me sore knuckles.” Wobbling, like a baby horse trying to stand, Stephanie started her wobbly walk toward Claire. Claire stood, trying to suppress a huge smile, awaiting Stephanie across the grass. After some swearing and half-stumbling, Stephanie fell into Claire’s arms at the end of the 10 metre walk. “Phew,” she said, letting Claire stabilise her into standing position once more. “It’s harder than I thought.” “Again,” instructed Claire, and led Stephanie back to the starting point. Stephanie was halfway through her second walk toward Claire, when she noticed a cigarette butt on the grass. “Ag, no man,” she said, stopping. “I hate it when people leave their stompies in a pretty place like this.” She tried to swipe the cigarette stompie into the bushes with the end of her crutch. Not realising this would upset her balance, she stumbled, and fell to one side like a sack of potatoes. Alarmed, Claire ran over, knelt, helped her sit up. ‘Stephanie,” she said, “steady on! Are you ok?” Stephanie was fine. Nothing could hurt her in the excited, cocky mood that had taken over her that day. “Ag, Claire,” said Stephanie, out of breath but with a grin. “I was just picking up stompies.” Stephanie started to giggle. Then Claire caught the giggling. Before the two of them knew it, they were rocking back on the grass, laughing and laughing as if Stephanie had just told the best joke in the world. After their raucous laughter had subsided, they took an early break and lay back on the soft springy grass. They looked at the sky. “Everything is changing,” said Stephanie, looking at the sky in wonder. They looked at each other. A moment of unexpected intimacy filled the air between them. Meanwhile… A priest in a black suit watched Ntobeko from a second story window. The priest was a pastor, one of the most charismatic pastors at the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God. He was known for performing miracles, and curing the sick during his extravagant performances. He wore an Armani suit, well fitted over his slightly chubby form. His shoes were one of his favourite pairs. They were Louis Vuitton. The pastor enjoyed nice things. He believed that as a conduit of the Lord on high, that he deserved a little pampering. He was, after all, a special and chosen person. He needed to look his best for his congregation, also. His name was Molusi Khumalo, but he went by the name of Pastor Heritage James. He thought it had an authentic, holy ring to it. Another business Pastor Heritage James dabbled in was selling DVDs of his performance. He’d seen other pastors do this, and the success they achieved by broadcasting their messages to a wider audience. People bought DVDs after church services for friends and loved ones – they often even bought them for themselves, so they could refer back to sermons. The pastor now straightened his tie and regarded the newcomer out the window. “I haven’t seen that one before,” he thought to himself, scrutinising Ntobeko. The pastor was always keen to see who came to the free meals, for potential converts. The church also always needed employees. Any newcomer was a potential worker. Plus, he decided, he had a right to know who was on his property. He trotted down the stairs from his office to the ground level. He then opened the side entrance to the church foyer, to where Ntobeko was sitting. He moved toward the table. “Hi friend. Do you mind if I sit down with you?” Ntobeko looked up at the man asking the question. “Ok,” he grunted, displeased at being interrupted when he was eating. “Thank you brother,” said the older man politely, and sat on the wooden bench at the table. Pastor Heritage James looked at the long queue of hungry people. “You know, brother, when I see so many people come to our church, it makes me feel like I am truly spreading the word of our Father.” “They’re here for the food,” Ntobeko observed rudely. He expected the pastor to take offence. Instead, the man laughed heartily. “You may be right!” he said with a warm smile. “But look, you’re here, in God’s house! It’s working! There’s more to that than meets the eye.” Ntobeko shrugged, took a loud sip from his glass of water. “I’m always happy to see new faces. It makes me feel like we provide an essential service to the people of this town.” The pastor smiled his confident smile once more. Ntobeko wasn’t sure he liked him. There was something about the pastor he didn’t trust. And Ntobeko had excellent intuition. He may have been a liar, a cheat and a thief – but he could also pick a liar, cheat and a thief out in a crowd. ‘What do you want?” said Ntobeko, with no trace of politeness. “I like you, young man. Straight to the point. No frills. No nonsense. Just questions, curiosity. I’m interested in knowing people like yourself, people who keep their own counsel. Let me tell you this. I think you and I could work together. We do a lot of incredible work here at the Church, and I can see you have the no-nonsense attitude to possibly help out in what we are doing. I’d like it if you joined me in my office upstairs for a chat. We could even have a little drink, get to know each other. Do you like whiskey? What do you say, friend?” What should Ntobeko say? 1.Thanks, but no thanks. 2.Why not? Let’s see what you have to say.
Posted on: Fri, 03 Oct 2014 08:21:32 +0000
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