And Delilah’s words crept inside me and stabbed at my soul. We were the same, living a tormented existence unable to escape what we were made to be.
She sat up abruptly then. “Carlowe, do you want to walk along the water? It looks so pretty today under the clear blue sky.”
I knew she was trying to recover herself. That memory still hurt her and I could almost feel it rend her soul just a little bit more. We stood and walked in silence for a few moments. The water was cool and clear and the afternoon sky reflected off the still surface.
Delilah wrapped her hand around my arm and walked close to me. “Did you think he meant you, Carlowe?”
“What?”
“Your teacher. You told your friend Alexander something to make him feel better, but did you think your teacher meant the two of you?”
“I did not think he meant Alexander. I debated him so vigorously he may well have meant me.” I said with a small grin.
She looked up at me and smiled. “Your eyes look just like the sky. So it didn’t bother you?”
“There are many barbarians in this world.” I answered plainly.
“Fascinating!” she gasped. “I would have expected an angry color.”
“And what color do you see?” I asked.
“Something between blue and purple, but there’s a shine to them. Can you keep them one color? Do they always change like that?”
“I suppose if I maintain a certain degree of anger or indifference I can keep them one color for a time.” I answered, but they must have changed as I spoke, I could see it on her face.
“What about happiness, Carlowe? Can’t they just stay the color of happiness for a while?”
“I don’t know, Delilah. I don’t know if I have ever felt that degree of happiness.”
“Color is a strange thing isn’t it?” she sighed. “I don’t envy your life, Carlowe. As much as I am an outcast, I can almost always find some happiness to get me through my troubles.”
“Why are you an outcast? You are quite lovely, and I would think many men notice you. I think many men would desire to be with you. Do you withhold yourself or is it something I don’t see?”
“What exactly do you see? When you first looked upon me, did you see a white woman or a Negro woman?”
“I believe I just saw the rose, Delilah. I did not make any assumption I just saw a lovely woman with copper colored eyes.”
“You touch my heart with your words, Carlowe.”
“Why did you speak to me the other day?”
“Curiosity, I guess.”
I laughed. “That is not much of an answer! You made many assumptions about me as I stood listening. You commented on my color, your perception of my financial status and my lack of manners. I heard a good dose of disdain and yet you continued to try to get my attention.”
She stopped and stepped in front of me. She looked up into my eyes and perhaps deeper into me than I should have let her see but there was a look upon her face that held me captive. “I saw a very handsome, well-dressed white man, Carlowe. Forgive me. I would like to be above noticing the color of one’s skin, but it has been such a thorn for me that I can’t overlook it in others,” she sighed. “I have been to many of these speeches and there are not men like you in the crowd to hear his words. Typically a white man in a suit is a bad sign that trouble is afoot.” She dropped her eyes from mine and I felt something like remorse or shame radiate from her. “If you were going to make trouble, I was going to try to lure you away and give the Reverend a chance to finish his sermon.”
“Delilah, have you done that before?”
“No. I spoke more boldly to you than I have ever spoken to a man; any man and I have no reason for why I might have done that. But you did not respond. Immediately, I felt offended, but I could not seem to stop looking at you. There was a look upon your face that was something between rapture and envy and I wanted you to notice me. I wanted you to acknowledge me.”
I ran my ringers over her silken cheek, pulled her close to me and I kissed her, slowly, deeply. And she touched me. She ran her hand up my back and into my hair as she accepted my passion.
But suddenly she stepped back.
Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape and she hardly seemed to breathe.
“You are very good at that,” she said quietly. “No man has ever kissed me like that before, Carlowe. I hope I am not a disappointment to you.”
And a sort of joy filled me. I laughed out loud and drew her in close to me again. “You are in no way a disappointment, Delilah. You delight me.”
But her cheeks flushed and she avoided my eyes. “Perhaps we should be getting back now. If you changed your mind about dinner…”
“Why would I do that? Have you changed your mind?” I asked.
“My mind is filled with thoughts of things I want. Some are things I never wanted before, some are things I denied myself.”
“Perhaps you should not deny yourself, Delilah, perhaps you should live as you want to live. Perhaps we should have a lovely dinner and just see what happens.”
“You make me feel like a woman,” she whispered. “Let’s have that dinner,” she finished. She pressed her lips softly to mine but she did not smile.
But I did. And I wondered if perhaps she was right, perhaps there was always some small happiness to be found.
* * *
Delilah suggested the restaurant.
She was waiting out front when I arrived.
She was wearing a very well cut dress that highlighted all of her attributes and after the way I’d kissed her by the water, seeing her dressed like this made me want her very badly. But she was unhappy.
“What is it?” I asked her as we were seated.
“Am I an open book, Carlowe? Can you see right through me?” she answered with a small smile.
“I can see that you are not happy as much as if your eyes behaved as mine do.”
“I came here to Albany to listen to the Reverend. That’s all. That was my only intention. I want so badly for his message to be heard and for things to change. I feel angry that he’s still sitting in a cell doing nothing and the world is ignoring him there. I feel angry that there is nothing I can do about it as well.”
“Why does his message matter so much to you?” I asked. “You do not live the same life as the majority of his followers.”
“No, but is my life better? They know what they are. They know society considers them lower class and they know what to expect everyday. So they push for something better.
It’s like if I took all the oranges and all the peaches and separated them into their own boxes. Not everybody likes the oranges, they have a tough skin, they are tart and they are a bit hard to eat. But they are in their box and if I don’t want to have oranges I just leave them be. Now suddenly some farmer grows a fruit that is part orange and part peach. Maybe it looks good on the outside but inside it’s not sweet, or maybe it is better than both of the other fruits individually. But every time someone looks at it they make a judgment. They don’t know where to put this new thing because it doesn’t belong in either of the boxes.
I don’t know what to expect from minute to minute. I can walk into a market one day and be treated like a lady and two days later be sneered at. Do you understand, Carlowe? Every time someone looks at me they make a judgment. If the colors were equal maybe it wouldn’t matter that I was a piece of both. Maybe there would be a new box or no boxes at all.”
“I do understand, Delilah. But you know your life is better. You are educated, you’ve had a father with means and you’ve had opportunities. Perhaps it is you making the judgment. Perhaps you can’t decide which box you want to be in.”
She looked at me angrily. “Oh, so is it that I am imagining some bias that isn’t there, Carlowe? Do you want to tell me what I should find attractive and what I should fear so I don’t have worry my pretty head
about the real world. Would you tell a man what you just told me? Do you think I am just too sensitive because I am female? Is it all women or just me that you find ridiculous?” she asked throwing her napkin angrily upon the table and rising from her chair.
“Delilah, I…”
She shook her head. “I don’t wish to see you again, Mr. Ambrosi,” she said flatly and she turned and walked away from me.
And my excuse for lingering in that place vanished.
All that remained was meeting the Reverend.
* * *
I returned to my room confounded and disappointed. My reason for coming to this place was to meet the man and weigh his soul so that was what I was going to do. What action I would take once I took measure of him, I did not know. I had a strong feeling that my father sent one of the three, but this man had not done anything that might be considered a miracle as the other one did. He had the title of Doctor, but he was not a medic, and I had not heard that he had any powers to heal the sick.
The coldness of Delilah’s departure had me disturbed. Logically, I should have waited until the next day to do the thing I was about to do. I was a bit worried that I would find this man lacking solely based on the my disappointment, but at that time I was just thinking I would kill two birds with one stone so to speak. I would give Delilah what she wanted and see the Reverend freed, and I would have my meeting and determine if my Father was at work here. Then Carlo Ambrosi would disappear into the world forever. I knew inside that if this man was not convincing I would take whatever Glory he had in him. That was what I was made to do.
Perhaps the world would suffer the consequences of my decision.
But I still wanted this world to end.
I went to police station and I quietly arranged for his bail.
And I waited upon the street for his reluctant expulsion.
It did not take long, and the Reverend was quite loud about being ejected. But he put on his jacket and straightened his tie. I took stock of him for a moment. He was thirty-three, but looked a bit older than that. Perhaps he was just weary from his days of imprisonment. He was not as tall as he seemed at the pulpit but carried himself well. He walked purposely toward me. “Was it you who paid the bond? Who are you?” he asked suspiciously. “Why would a white man pay to have me freed? What do want with me?”
Immediately there was a strange sensation that came over me. There was a strong presence in this man, but it was disjointed and it seemed to be holding to a weaker presence. Never had I felt such a thing before. “I am Carlo Ambrosi. I wish a private audience. There are questions I would like to ask you.”
“What sort of questions? Are you from the media or the government?”
I laughed. He was quite suspicious. Rightfully I suspect. “No, I am from neither. I just want to understand your mission. I wish to ask questions about your message and you personally. Delilah Emerson said you were a respectable man, I ask only for a small amount of your time.”
“You are a friend of Delilah’s?”
“I would like to think she considers me a friend.”
“Very well. If you have managed to earn the trust of the Emersons’, I will grant you my trust as well.”
“Might we have dinner together? I venture that the dining is below standard in there.”
“You are quite right, Mr. Ambrosi,” he laughed. “Hiwever, I am not fit for a public spectacle right now. I could do with a nice quite meal back at the hotel if that suits you.”
“Perfectly, Reverend.”
We walked to the place in silence. I could not escape the oddity of what I felt within him, nor could I reconcile it.
We made it to his rooms with little fanfare and secluded ourselves with a modest meal and a bottle of wine.
“You will have to forgive me if I am not the best company, Mr. Ambrosi. Jail may be a dull place, but there is very little resting when you have to fear that you might not wake up again,” he said with a grin.
“Do you ever find peace, Sir? Do you always fear for your life and your family?”
“There is always some degree of fear. I pray fervently that the Lord will watch over my family while I am away, but I fear for their safety even more when I am home. There have been a number of attempts upon my life and there have been times when I have wondered if it is truly worth it. If this calling is worth what I am missing out on to see it through. I have to tell myself that it is. I have to answer yes, and I have to say it firmly so I believe it. Because if I don’t believe, who will hear the message the Lord has given me to speak? And if I deny the message how will I ever find salvation?”
“When did you discover this calling?” I asked him.
“You ask me a difficult and shameful question, Mr. Ambrosi,” he started as he sipped his wine. I will answer you honestly and completely if you will answer my questions first.”
“What questions have you for me?” I asked plainly.
“Where are you from? You have an accent that is clearly foreign, but I cannot seem to place it.”
“I have lived in all parts of the world. I came here from Sudan.”
“Why did you come all the way here?” he asked in amazement.
“The world is currently bombarded with military coups and government embargoes. There is constant news of launching various things into space to what end I don’t know. There are missiles and weapons of doom in the hands of those poised to use them. The stories are notoriously bad. It would seem the world is ripe for it’s final ending in some great nuclear explosion setting off earthquakes and tidal waves and washing humanity away like a putrid dirty stain. But the President of the United States has openly praised your work. Your name has reached all corners of the world and carries some degree of hope. I have come to hear your message.”
“I am flattered,” he said sincerely.
“I did not come to flatter you.” I said plainly. “I came to see if your calling came from the Father or if you are simply a publicity-seeking malcontent.”
“That is blunt!” he laughed easily. “I am not interested in power for power's sake, Mr. Ambrosi, but I'm interested in power that is moral, that is right and that is good.” He said in his preaching tone. “What is your conclusion so far?”
“So far I agree with Delilah who contends that your words come from your heart and you feel the message within you. However she also was quite angry that you would chose to sit in a jail cell indefinitely instead of being visible where the people need you.”
“She can be quite fierce.”
“Yes. She can also be quite delicate. I believe she withholds her personal desires because she fears being weak.” The words came out and I knew them to be true because the soul she possessed had always had that fear. But I could not comfort it I could only challenge it. And for that I felt guilt.
“My father was a Reverend as well,” he started as he set his wine upon the table between us. “I was supposed to follow in his footsteps and heed the call of the Lord. But I didn’t hear it, Carlo. Do you mind if I call you Carlo?”
“No, I do not. Please continue.”
“I denied my father. I disappointed him, I am sure. I didn’t feel the Glory of God. I don’t know that I believed the words then. I actively pursued my education, but only in so much as it was an escape from the expectations of following my father. I was a teenage boy and a foolish one at that. I messed around as young men do. I drank too much. I embarrassed myself sometimes. Until one night I was so drunk I could not get myself off the floor. I thought I might just die there, a wasted life ended in a futile shameful binge. But I heard the Lord speak to me. He asked me if I wanted redemption. He asked me if I was ready to be what I had been denying my whole life. And I said ‘Yes my Lord, I am ready to give myself to you.’ I woke up the next morning and I knew that was not a dream. I felt the weight of it inside me. Like God had given me his own soul to stand up and tell the p
eople that it was time to change what we are and make this a better world for the future.
I applied myself to every task I undertook. I completed my education and I went into the world with a new vigor. I still feel the weight of the Lord inside me and I will do his bidding for as long as he gives me upon this green earth.”
When he finished, I thought I understood what I felt within him. “Do you think you can make this a peaceful world?” I asked seriously.
“No. Even Jesus Christ left the world without seeing the fruition of his work. I am no Messiah, just a tool for the Lord to employ. I think my message can only go so far. I say that the world will always be a troubled place as long as humanity is judged by what is here,” he started indicating his appearance, “instead of what is here,” he finished pounding his fist upon his heart. “But it will take the generation of my children and my children’s children to erase the distinction of color from this world. I believe there is no color in the great kingdom of heaven and that the Lord will judge us all upon our deeds and our desire to strive for a better world, not the color of the skin we were born into.”
“There is no color in Heaven, there is only white light and warmth.”
“White light? What do you imply? Are you rebutting me?”
“No. On the contrary, I am agreeing with you. White light encompasses all color. The troubling attribute of that light is that it must be broken to show those colors. Do you see? The light is what we all strive for, what we all wish to become but we are just a refraction, a broken piece of paradise. That is all we can be in this place. I am broken. I know that. My greatest desire is to be more than the damaged creation of my father. You preach a message of equality and yet you are broken too. One of the very first things you spoke to me was ‘why would a white man pay to have me freed?’ Not just a man; but a white man. You wish to be judged for the heart that beats within your chest and your desire to change the minds of all men. You have a soul that should not refract the light. I feel it in you. And yet you yourself still see the colors, and you make judgment based on what your eyes tell you rather than what your soul feels.”