Being a minister and being found out carries all sorts of risks. I have had to change barbers and cab drivers. There is a certain stationery shop I can’t go into any more because the sweet woman who runs it wants to talk about her dead father’s soul. The fact that I don’t know where her father is, or what he’s doing, makes no difference.
Today I had travelled no further than the end of the street when the driver said, “Oh my God, Father—what am I going to do?”
I studied the back of the man’s head. I had no memory of having seen him before, but he spoke to me as if we were intimates. The trip to Crystal Palace takes about ten minutes. I looked at my watch. Nine minutes to go.
“Sorry?” I said.
His girlfriend is drinking and earning £100,000 a year. She’s a Hindu and he’s a Muslim. She’s on anti-depressants. She left him six years ago and married a Christian, then came back. She won’t take his calls, but turns up sobbing at his flat after midnight. Their sex life is great. He’s thirty years older than she is. He’s in hell. Plus, his voice is rising.
“That sounds painful,” I said. Four minutes to Crystal Palace.
“You have no idea.” Strangled sobs. I made sure my seat belt was secure.
At two minutes till touchdown, I tried, “Why not leave her?”
“Because she’s so helpless.”
We pulled over near my office. I opened the door. “Well, be strong,” I offered.
“That’s it! Oh my God, Father, you’re right! I must be strong.” He turned to face me, tears of gratitude coalescing in his lower lids. “I just knew you’d have the answer.”
One foot on the curb. “Eight pounds,” he said.
I should have said, “No charge, friend. It’s on the house.”
But I didn’t. It’s my job, right?
And here's a story from the driver's point of view. Since it's written in a relatively matter-of-fact way and doesn't attempt to bring religion into it, I'm inclined to believe it's true.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.snopes.com/glurge/cabride.asp