Thursday, 16 July, 2008
After the dinner, I changed from my fancy dress to leggings and a tee-shirt and sat outside of the Museum. I had finished up early, roughly 8.15, and the Padre wasn’t supposed to be here until nine. But I wasn’t worried at all. The air was cool and I had my book with me. I had just feasted on sumptious falafel, tomato salad and pita. My new acquaintances streamed past me, most asking if I needed a ride. I waved them on. The director came out, carrying a cardboard box and filling the air with the smell of fresh pita.
My thoughts drifted to what the Padre and I were about to do—visit a huge abandoned factory where he said that a bunch of men had been living for the past few months. We had tried to swing by one afternoon and no one had been there. We both agreed there was a better chance that the day-laborers would be home at night. So we had planned for him to pick me up after he finished his meeting and I finished my dinner. I trusted his word, but I hoped that the plan hadn’t changed. My phone had died. I checked my watch—9.15.
It got darker as I sat there, back against the wall. Joggers passed by me and we exchanged little hellos. Some junior high girls roller bladed past me. Several dogs sniffed my feet. An awkward little boy bounded over to me when his white terrier approached me. He and his dad had the same goofy grin. He launched into a speech about his terrier, named Brian, after family guy—did I watch that show? His dad bobbed his head and repeated in a strong Spanish accent asking me did I watch that show? I nodded I knew the show even though I hadn’t really ever sat and watched the show.
Oh! Said the little boy. What’s your name?
I was just alone enough that I decided to lie. “Sarah,” I said, then immediately felt crappy about it.
“That’s a pretty name!” he exclaimed. I smiled, wanting to tell him it was really my room mate’s name.
As he walked away, he almost tripped over awkward feet, turning around to yell back: “Have a nice night, Sarah! Take care, Sarah! Nice to meet you, Sarah!”
The newly named Sarah (me) glanced at her watch. It was inching ever later. But I was sure that the Padre would come.
I continued to read, back pressed against the wall, conscious of anyone around me the later it got. But my book was good and I soon lost track of time again.
Returned from his walk and going through his gate across the street from me, the little boy shouted: “Oh! Sarah—you’re still here! Well, have a nice night, Sarah! I’m going to bed now, Sarah! Oh! Sarah—this is my house.”
I waved.
“Aren’t you going to bed, too?”
“I’m waiting for a friend! Goodnight—sleep tight!”
“Goodnight, Sarah!” he hollered.
I checked my watch. It was ten to ten now. Damn my phone! I thought. I bet the tried to call me!
I decided to stay until ten. I felt pretty safe here, but I wasn’t about to take any chances. People were still jogging, still congregating on street corners, but I was starting to get jumpy. Cars were passing, but none of them were Padre’s. If they slowed down at all, I felt nervous.
Ten came, but I decided to finish up the section I was reading. At 10.15, I sadly decided that I had waited long enough. I packed up my bags and began walking to the train stop. It would be a long ride home.
I wasn’t mad in the least about it. I figured the Padre had some good excuse, even though I didn’t know him well. I trusted him.
I was walking around the corner when a car slowed. Someone called at me. I ignored them and kept walking.
“Brenna!” I heard. “Brenna!”
I stooped. Padre grinned up at me.
Whaddya know, I thought. But I am sure glad I waited this long.
*
Padre and I explained ourselves—I apologized for the death of my phone (“Oh,” he said, “I called you like five times!”) and he explained why he had been caught up (his meeting for the Anglican church on the matter of female bishops had run long.)
We were both relieved to see each other.
He began to drive slowly and we planned our adventure when I sat down. We agreed it was late and wondered aloud if it was safe to go to the factory. We agreed to stop by and at least see.
The Padre pulled up and we could see figures talking, laughing, drinking, silhouetted. He motioned for me to stay in the car. He called out to them in Spanish, through the fence. I opened the door and saw him give them his card.
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