Black Short Stories : The secret life of Pastor Greyson pt 2

asimplepoet

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Mar 13, 2006
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Somewhere between paradise and diaster
Occupation
Teacher
It’s 6 o’clock in the morning. I think to myself God please give me just five more minutes. But then I also know I don’t have any right to be asking God for any favors this morning after the night that I had. Sodom and Gomorrah don’t have anything on me. I just love coming into the city for there is all kinds of illicit fun to be had. But that is my own bittersweet cross to bear. I would pray for deliverance but I am not sure I want to be set free of this sin just yet because it feels oh so good. Well I might as well get up because now the phone is ringing on top of the squealing of the alarm. I try to clear my throat and get myself together because even at 6 in the morning I know the voice on the other end expects the Pastor to be fully alert and ready to handle whatever it is that has got them ringing my phone so early in the morning.

I answer “Praise the Lord, This is Pastor Greyson how I can I serve you” And the reply is “Honey, I have to talk to you.” It is my wife but she doesn’t sound like herself. I calmly ask her what’s wrong and she replies with a screaming litany of words. All I can make out is “How could you?” I run through my list of minor transgressions and wonder what in the world could she be talking about. I am confused as to what I could have done to get her so upset; my wife is usually the Rock of Gibraltar. Nevertheless as I listen I begin to piece together what my offense is. And I thought Oh my God how could she know I am always so discreet. My first urge was to deny the accusations but she begins to scream about some pictorial proof. Hence I knew that denial wouldn’t work. So I begin with an apology and told her that I was sorry that I dishonored her and the children. And how much I love them all. But she wasn’t hearing it. She fired off a series of question like a CNN reporter, she wanted every detail. How safe had I been? Could I of passed something on to her? Who was he? How many times did I do this? And about 99 more questions of the same caliber. I tried to answer them all without revealing how far awry that I had gone over the course of the last year. How does a Pastor admit to his God-fearing, anointed, Proverb 31 wife that he has been coming to the city not only to preach but also to solicit male prostitutes by the dozen? I sit her with no more words to give her. Nothing I can say or do can make this right. She says the children are waking up and she has to go. I offer to pray which is our normal custom when we disagree but she says she doesn’t have much faith in my prayers right now. I can hear the hurt in her voice and I wish that I could take it all back for she doesn’t deserve not any a second of displeasure. She hurriedly say goodbye and that we can talk when I get back Sunday night. I hang up the phone and sit on the edge of the bed. I never felt so utterly lost ever in my life. What am I suppose to do now? I know what usually helps me forget about everything so I pick up the phone to dial…

To be continued ….
 

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