She went back to the laundry room and finished cleaning the Bishop’s cloak. She replayed in her mind the story he was telling her about his time in the forest. Her body clinched at some of the things he told. She was certain that he did not even tell her the half of it. He told her enough just to satisfy her curiosity. But that was enough too. She had been waiting upon the right time to approach him on this matter. She spent many sleepless nights crying and praying when he was gone. He was back now, for her that was reason enough to thank God.

“Is there anybody in here?” a soft little voice came in from the door of the laundry room.

“Yes dear, it’s me, Sister Mabel,” she replied.

“So sorry to disturb you then,” uttered the sister in training. “I thought it was…”

“It really does not matter. Please come in,” Sister Mabel replied with a smile on her face, waving for her to come in.

“I am really sorry to disturb,” she said as she took a seat.

“If you were interrupting me in any way I would let you know,” she said touching her shoulder.

“Must I help?” she asked timidly. Wanting to earn the right to be in that space.

“If you want,” Sister Mabel replied. “I just wanted the pleasure of your company and not to make you work.

“Sorry Sister Mabel,” the girl said shyly.

“Another sorry and then there will be trouble,” the 2 women laughed and began to work on the cloak together. They finished just before midnight. And Sister Mabel hung the cloak up neatly.

The Bishop awakened abruptly from his sleep after hearing banging noise around him. He sat up in his bed and gasped for air and then he calmed down. He stood from his bed and when to the other side of the room to pull the switch that switched on the light.

He had nightmares often lately. His soul was troubled. He dreamed about his time with the pirates and he was also worried about Thekeza and the whereabouts of his son. Thekeza trusted him and he felt as though he had failed on delivering on his promise.

Sister Mabel often reminded him, “Bishop you did enough, all Thekeza expected was that you raise him into a man, and you did.”

But still the Bishop found no comfort in those words echoing in his head.

“Where is that boy?” he muttered to himself.

He never saw him as his father perhaps that was the real issue that bothered the Bishop far more that the fact that he left unexpectedly.

“How does one earn the right to be a father to a boy and not be just his Bishop?” he asked the space in the room he was seating in.

But the words fell on deaf ears and the room never responded.

The loud shuttering sound that woke him up filled the air. This time double amplified because he was awake and conscious.

He walked over to the window, opened it and looked outside. How he loved the breeze that came with the rain. There were simply no words to describe its cooling effects on the human skin.

“Beautiful rain,” he muttered to himself.

The lightning struck again and he took a side step as if trying to dodge it. He was not found of lightning. He closed his window and even closed his window shutters, preventing the lightning from coming in and hurting him. He associated it loud crackling sound to the time he lived with the Pirates.

The Pirates were reckless and irresponsible. The played with missiles and grenades to entertain themselves. They loved to see things exploding and burn up. They were driven by a testosterone power. They were supreme, all powerful, the untouchable.

He sat there thinking about them and the questioning himself why they never killed him. It must have been God’s divine protection upon his life that protected him. A smile began to crack upon his face. He remembered their savage ways. How they used to eat. How they used to stink. How they used to fight to earn the respect of their women. They lived like animals. They marked their territory with their urine. They exchanged women. They worshipped their immortal leader and chanted around a fire every night, dancing and drinking, and having orgies.

The Bishop was glad that time of his life was over, but he sure also was glad that he went through that. It deepened his faith. It taught him to trust in God in a new way.

The pirates were caught up in a darkness so surreal. The Bishop prayed for them endlessly to conform and be civilized. He believed the church could do that for them. But the ways of men were too ordered and restrictively for them. They worked on impulse. They worked on instinct. They worked on gut feel. They worked on mere opportunity.

They killed and enjoyed their kill. No arbitrations followed.

***

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