They hung up. Rubbing his brow, he wondered why he'd said yes. He hated going to the hospital, but had to do it fairly often. He wasn't a big fan of Thai food, either, but he couldn't make himself say no. Her request wasn't unreasonable, nor was he particularly busy. It wasn't her fault, or her mother's, that he was having a bad day. That was more the universe slapping him upside the head—a cosmic sick joke.
"I'm heading to St. Mary's to see a patient," he called to Mrs. Bannister.
"Okay! When will you be back?"
"Not sure. Call if you need me."
"Will do! Drive safe!"
"Will do!"
Trotting out to his car, he planned his drive. St. Blase wasn't far away. In fact, it was the sister parish to his, St. Peter the Fisherman Episcopalian Church, lovingly called St. Pete's by his congregation. Seated in his SUV, he made sure the air conditioner was on full and the music was loud.
It would probably have shocked his congregation to know that their spiritual leader was a metal head, and Metallica was his favorite band. In fact, before college and seminary took him in the polar opposite direction, he'd dreamed of being a rock star. Tapping the steering wheel along with Lars, he did a little head banging at the stop light. Growling out the lyrics to For Whom the Bell Tolls, he wended his way through traffic, grateful that it wasn't quite lunchtime, and the traffic was light.
He rolled up to St. Blase's in good time. A pretty blonde paced the sidewalk in front of the white stucco edifice. Seeing his SUV, she stopped walking. He parked, hopping out. Walking around the front, hand extended, he held out his driver's license for her to see. Squinting at it, she compared his face to the one in his wallet. Smiling, she held out her hand, taking his.
"Father Randolph?" Big brown eyes fixed on his blue ones.
"Yes. You can call me Obi."
"Wynter. What's Obi short for?"
"Obadiah." Opening the door, he helped her in.
"The name on your license isn't Obadiah."
"I go by my middle name. First name is Prescott." He showed her the license again.
"Oooh. I don't use my middle name. Coincidentally, it also begins with an O."
"Olivia?"
"No. Trust me, you won't guess it in a million years."
"That bad?" he frowned slightly as they buckled up.
"Terrible." She paused, tipping her head toward the speakers. "The Day That Never Comes?" She grinned. "Bold choice for clergy."
Snapping the music off, he blushed. "Can't always listen to church music."
"True."
"What does your mom like, in terms of Thai food? Traditional, or more Americanized?"
"Honestly, I have no idea. She gave me a list of foods." She dug in her pocket, handing him a crumpled, scribbled list.
Obi looked it over, nodding as he handed it back. "Got it. That's more American Thai. Not a problem. I know just the spot. It's on the way to the hospital."
"Thank you." Her voice faltered again. "I don't know what I'd have done...." Blinking hard, she turned her head, trembling hand to her lips. "I'm not usually this big a wreck."
They weren't out of the parking lot yet, so Obi stopped, putting the car in park. Leaning across her, he grabbed a packet of tissues from the glove compartment. Handing them to her, he smiled.
"It's all right. You're allowed to fall apart. Your mom is sick."
"That's not the only reason." Wiping her eyes, she blew her nose.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" her blue eyes were full of tears, her lips trembling.
"What else is wrong?"
"Oh, you don't want to hear about my troubles."
Obi laughed loudly, pointing to his priest's collar. "If you haven't noticed, that's kind of my job. Spill. What's wrong?"
"Life?" she exhaled sharply. "Lost my job, my boyfriend, and my home all in one fell swoop."
"I'm so sorry to hear that. How can I help?"
"Got a job you need filled?"
"No. But I have a large parish, with lots of business people. I'm sure one of them has an opening. If not, I know a lot of the St. Blase parishioners. I was assistant pastor for five years, before moving to St. Pete's. Give me a copy of your resume, I can make a few calls, help you set up interviews. Next problem?"
"Well, I've moved in with Mama, so housing is covered. That leaves boyfriend."
The statement lingered between them. Even in her distressed state, she was beautiful. Blushing slightly, he turned away.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah...yes. Shall we go?"
"I didn't mean to imply that you should be my boyfriend."
"It's all right. My life blew up last night. I have my home and job, but my girlfriend.... Pfff!" he made an explosive gesture with his hands.
"Sounds like both our lives are kinda crap."
He chuckled, putting the SUV in gear. "Yep. But I'll make you a deal. I won't wallow, if you won't."
"Agreed."
He'd stopped for a sign at the driveway. Holding out her hand, she waited for him to shake it. Grinning, he did.
"What was her name?"
He was distracted checking traffic. "Who?"
"The woman."
"Oh."
"Mine was Bardo."
"Stupid name."
"Agreed."
©Dellani Oakes 2023
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