"The soul that is transformed by the grace of Christ will admire His divine character. . . . The less we see to esteem in ourselves, the more we shall see to esteem in the infinite purity and loveliness of our Saviour. A view of our sinfulness drives us to Him who can pardon; and when the soul, realizing its helplessness, reaches out after Christ, He will reveal Himself in power. The more our sense of need drives us to Him and to the Word of God, the more exalted views we shall have of His character, and the more fully we shall reflect His image." 27
LuCinda looked up as Billy burst into the
room. “Hi Cindy,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“I’m doing my homework,”
she snapped. “Leave me alone.”
She was instantly sorry when she saw the
hurt expression on his face. “Come in,” she shrugged,
as he brightened and sat on the edge of her bed.
He glanced at her textbook and grimaced.
I hate math. Mrs. Southerly says I’ll have to learn to add
and subtract large numbers.”
LuCinda laughed, despite her foul mood.
“It’s not that bad, Billy, once you learn the formulas.
Here let me show you.”
Billy bent over the math book as his sister
attempted to explain the intricacies of Algebra to a boy who barely
knew how to add and subtract. “Its no good,” Billy sighed.
“I hate math and it hates me.”
LuCinda laughed again at his honesty.
“Cindy,” Billy said tentatively
with a sly expression on his face, “God loves you.”
She looked up from her book and grimaced,
“sure he does, just like you understand algebra.”
“No, Cindy,” he continued, “Jesus
really does love you and He even likes you.”
Cindy shifted her position on the bed, slammed
the book shut, and scowled at her brother who had flopped full
length on the end of the bed. “You don’t know what your
talking about. God doesn’t love me, and He certainly doesn’t
like me. I’m wicked,” she said with a wicked smile,
“and He doesn’t love wicked people.”
“Yes he does,” Billy confidently
affirmed, He loves Daddy.”
LuCinda laughed mirthlessly.
“If He can love Daddy, then He can
love you. Your no worse then Daddy.”
The scowl deepened on her face, then turned
into a frown. “Billy, sweet, dear Billy, you don’t know
what your talking about.”
Billy leaned forward, staring directly at
his sister, which made her feel slightly disconcerted. “You
mean that time Daddy did bad things to you?”
LuCinda almost exploded off the bed. She
leaped to her feet, turned on Billy with a fierce expression on
her face, hands on hips, face contorted in rage, she barely contained
her fury, remembering that her brother was innocent of any wrong
doing.
Billy lay quietly, watching his sister’s
reaction to his question. A smile played across his face.
“How did you know about that,”
she demanded. “No one knows about that.”
“God told me, Cindy,” he answered
quietly. “He told me what Daddy did to you, how you felt.
I don’t understand everything about what happened, but I
know he hurt you real bad.” He paused to asses her reaction.
She glared at him for a moment, her lips
quivering with barely suppressed rage, tears forming in her eyes,
her body shaking involuntarily. Inwardly her heart ached with
suppressed agony.
For a few moments, the room was silent,
then Billy spoke again. “I don’t understand, Cindy,
but I know God loves you. Won’t you let Him love and soothe
the hurt? Don’t hold yourself away from Him. He can help
you, make you feel better, bring happiness and joy into your life.”
LuCinda stared at her brother. For a boy
his age, he certainly understands more about God then many preachers
do, she thought. Her heart momentarily responded to his innocence,
then she thought of her father, saw his face, heard his words,
felt his hands on her body, probing, pushing, tickling, and she
felt dirty and ashamed, used, and alone.
LuCinda burst into tears and flung herself
on the bed next to her brother. Billy wisely refrained form touching
her, although his heart, big with love for his sister, yearned
over her.
The tears flowed uncontrollably. Sobs racked
her body. Groans of despair emanated from her heart. Then the
storm passed, the well of tears ran dry, the door of the heart
closed against the love that was endeavoring to enter its precincts.
She would have none of it, she would not open her heart to the
pleading of her Savior. No!
“Billy, its too late, leave me along.”
Billy rose to a sitting position and watched
his sister intently. He saw her struggle with the Holy Spirit,
saw her heart pried open for just a moment, saw the frightened
little girl held captive there, saw the fear and misunderstanding,
saw the desperate desire for love, but also saw something hard
and unyielding, something deathlike in its defiance of the Lord
and knew that the door was firmly closed, again.
Billy quietly stood, looked at his sister
one last time, saw defiance in her eyes, turned and left the room,
his heart bursting with anguish over the loss of his sister, he
could do nothing to help her.
Billy went to his room and knelt beside
his bead unwilling to let his sister slip into eternity unprepared.
“Dear Father,” he sobbed, “can’t you save
Cindy, can’t your soften her heart? She is so precious to
me and to you. You came all the way from heaven to save her, don’t
leave without her. Give her another chance to know you.”
He broke down in deep emotion as he contemplated his sister, his
dearly beloved sister, frightened and alone, in the outer darkness
where there was no hope.
Billy remained on his knees, beside his
bed for a long time, unaware that George was watching him from
the door.
“And Lord, bless my Dad. Give him the
courage to confess his sins. He has badly hurt Cindy and Mother.
He is a good father, Jesus, he just has some bad habits. He doesn’t
mean to swear at me. Forgive him for swearing and for his drinking,
for those things he does with his secretary, that mother doesn’t
know about. Dear Jesus, save him before it is too late.”
George turned away, his eyes filled with
tears, his throat choked with emotion. His son understood and
loved him anyway. Is this what God is like, he wondered. How can
a young boy, like Billy, possibly understand so much about human
nature. How can he love as Christ loves?
His heart thrilled with an unexplained trembling,
God understood him and yet He was loved. What kind of God could
love George, the wretched sinner? His heart yearned for something
better, for something Holy and righteous, he yearned for a Savior.
An hour later, supper having been delayed
by parental romancing under a full, harvest moon, despite his
baptism of beer, Grace called the family together. LuCinda was
grumpy, Billy was sad, George was introspective, and Grace was
joyful. Each, in their own way, felt the moving power of the Holy
Spirit that evening around the supper table.
‘Daddy,” Billy inquired, “will
you pray before we eat.”
LuCinda almost laughed at the thought of
her father praying. Grace was surprised by Billy’s request
and turned to watch George’s reaction. Momentarily perplexed
by his son’s question, he looked thoughtfully at Grace and
then, to everyone’s surprise, assented to the request.
Bowing his head, he said, simply, “Father,
thank you for the food we are about to eat. Bless Billy, Grace
and especially LuCinda, you love her so much, you died especially
that she might live. Amen!”
LuCinda sat for a moment, watching her father,
then quietly excused herself from the table, mumbling something
about not feeling well for she really wasn’t feeling well
and hadn’t felt well for several weeks.
“I head more about that terrorist attack,”
George commented to Grace after the potatoes were passed. The
police say 282 people were killed and 427 were injured. Grace
gasped at the magnitude of the tragedy. George helped himself
to a large serving of corn casserole, then continued. “They
say there were eleven terrorist, they had grenades and machine
guns. The police killed all of them, but not before they massacred
most of the people in the terminal. They say its the worst terrorist
act since the Oklahoma bombing. They were Iranians, all of them,
came her to die for Allah. Wish they had stayed home and died
for him there,” he muttered around a mouthful of mashed potatoes
and gravy, his favorite dish.
“Those poor people,” Grace finally
managed to say.
For several moments, the conversation turned
to a different topic, then Billy unexpectedly spoke up. “I
can hardly wait,” he said.
“Wait for what, dear,” his mother
inquired as she rose to fetch more potatoes from the stove.
“I can hardly wait until Jesus takes
me to the children so I can love them.”
Grace looked bemused as she set the bowl
of potatoes in front of her husband. “Aren’t there enough
children around the neighborhood for you to love?”
“These are special kids,” Billy
replied. “Jesus wants me to love them because people have
hurt them and there’s no one to tell them about Him.”
“I’m sure God will send someone,
dear,” she said. “George, did you hear about...”
Billy wasn’t listening. “Lord,”
he prayed silently, “they don’t understand about these
children. When can I go to them. I love them so much and they
need me, now, Lord.”
* * *
Stanley appeared at Eva’s door, smelling
of Old Spice After Shave Lotion. Without ceremony, as was his
usual custom, he informed her, “I hired you out at the Gregory
Club as a hostess. Be there at 9:30 P.M. sharp, The usual costume
will be provided.”
Trimming her toe nails, Eva didn’t
acknowledge his comments, not even bothering to shut the door
after he turned and vanished down the hallway. She was tired after
servicing five customers the previous evening and still bore the
marks of Big John on her face and neck.
“The Gregory Club,” she groaned,
gays and lesbians, lots of them. At least they wouldn’t fondle
her the way those business types did when she served drinks at
their exclusive club. But she detested these evenings, nonetheless.
At least those executive types were civil, the gays were anything
but civil, more barbaric in their behavior then even the animals
in that amusement park she and Amelia had visited. At least they
couldn’t help themselves if they did their thing in the open,
they were, after all, animals, but these gays, they were human,
yet they acted, for all the world, like wild animals. “Ugh,”
she commented to herself. But, money was money, and she did owe
$45.87 on that new dress. Why couldn’t he consider it a business
expense and at least pay half the cost?
Eva showered in the communal shower at the
end of the hall, powdered herself, dressed in T-shirt and faded
blue jeans, and applied lipstick.
Despite her familiarity with the neighborhood,
around her apartment, Eva hated walking the streets after dark.
She was thankful, at least for one thing, he had taken her off
the streets and given her an apartment. Better to work indoors
then on the streets where a girl could pick up anything or anybody
or get herself killed. He, at least, did screen her customers,
picking the less savory ones for her while giving the street girls
the others. For this, she was thankful. Besides, it was warmer
in her apartment. It had turned unexpectedly cold, something about
a hurricane down south, she thought as she pulled her sweater
tighter about her shoulders.
Chicago, at night, was totally different
then Chicago by day. A contrast of brightly lit shops and office
buildings, with their executives going about their executive business
and the dark alleys where the vermin of the city lived and crawled
about in the shadows of their filthy wholes.
She knew many of them by name and smell.
Each had his or her own peculiar odor, or fragrance, they preferred
to call it. Each sported a unique costume, or identifying mark,
as well as a street name. There was Whiskers, his face covered
with a full growth of beard, smelling of garlic or onions, spitting
tobacco juice, and swearing in five languages.
Then there was Oddly, an odd sort of fellow
who sported a red baseball cap, could always be found walking
around in green tennis shoes, and smelled something like a cross
between a rat and mouse.
They inhabited an alley between 67th and
68th streets, living in a large construction crate, with a carefully
crafted bed of crushed cardboard interspersed with egg cartons.
They claimed it gave them the best nights sleep in a radius of
four blocks, although she doubted whether they knew the meaning
of the word “radius.”
Then there was a bum named Humbolt or something
like that who lived a block west. She had never seen him, but
heard that he occupied a doorway, drank heavily, and smelled of
sweat and rotten garbage.
Slinging her purse over her right shoulder,
Eva hurried along the brightly lit streets, glancing apprehensively
down each alley and into every darkened shop entrance, until she
reached the Gregory Club. Passing under its green canopy, that
stretched from the entrance to the curb, she walked down a glass
strewn alley to the left of the building and knocked loudly at
a side entrance.
After a moment, a small window opened in
the metal door, and a face peered out at her.
“What do you want,” the face inquired
impassively.
“I’m the hostess for tonight,
let me in.”
The face glowered at her, then she heard
the sound of a bolt being slid back, and the door opened, allowing
a draft of foul cooking odors to engulf her, almost knocking her
off her feet with its stench.
“Your early,” the face protested.
“So what,” she retorted, “I
got to get into my costume.”
The face stared at her bosom for a moment,
then gestured to a door marked, dressing room. “You know
what to do,” the face said, “go do it.”
“Nice friendly atmosphere, around her,”
Eva commented sarcastically.
The face ignored her remark and resumed
its cooking over a black, greasy, four burner gas stove. Three
black pots were boiling, sending up clouds of steam, making the
kitchen feel like a steam bath. I wonder if the health department
ever inspects this place, Eva thought, as she threaded her way
through an assortment of egg cartons and beer boxes, four wheeled
carts filled with dirty dishes, careful not to slip on the slime
covered floor, enduring several pats on the rump from assorted
cooks and black jacked waiters who moved about the filth, picking
cockroaches from the serving plates before carrying them to their
customers.
The dressing room lacked a certain degree
of elegance. Boxes of soup cans stacked in one corner, cooks aprons
hanging from a row of pegs above several boxes of discarded lard
cans, a dirty toilet in one corner and a dusty mirror over a chipped
dressing table, constituted the adornments of the room. Not even
a chair, how’s a girl supposed to put on her hose, Eva mumbled
to herself, sliding the bolt on the door, thus securing some degree
of privacy, although she knew there was a peep whole in the wall
between the kitchen and dressing room. She would have to stick
something in it, no peeping without paying, was her motto.
A blue fringed bra top, mini skirt, four
inch heels and hose constituted her costume. Normally, any self-respecting
man, seeing her in this outfit, would forget all about his wife,
and follow her wherever she went, tongue lolling from the corner
of his mouth, wallet in hand. But this evenings clientele, cared
little for her ample endowments nor the scantiness of her costume,
they were intent upon each other, having no thoughts, whatsoever,
for her, other then as a hostess.
Leaving the dressing room and passing through
the kitchen, avoiding the slimmest parts, she passed through a
short passage way into the dining room. It was dark, the Club’s
customers preferred it that way. Even they couldn’t always
endure the sights and sounds that greeted her, she thought, as
she passed through tables of patrons, to the front of the restaurant,
where she took up her position near the cash register.
Bungy, the bouncer was at his station, as
was Micky, the cashier, who greeted Eva warmly. At least there
was some human compassion in this den of Sodomite iniquity, she
thought.
The door opened, and a refreshing breath
of air dispelled some of the cigar smoke and foul odors that always
pervaded the Gregory Club. Two men entered, holding hands, removed
their coats and handed them to Hatty, the hat check girl.
The taller of the two, dressed in black
leather, with a broad brimmed black Stetson, and shinny black
cow boy boots with two inch stacked heels, greeted Eva with a
curt nod. The shorter of the pair, the female, was a man in his
late thirties, dressed in a pink blouse with ruffles around the
neck, tight brown pants, and pink high heel shoes. He wore ear
rings and a generous amount of mascara.
Eva greeted the pair, handed them a menu
and escorted them to a table near the front of the restaurant.
Several voices greeted the pair by name, as the taller man assisted
his companion with his chair in a show of chivalry.
Eva went back to her station where Bungy
was leaning against the wall, talking with Micky. As she approached,
they motioned her to join their conversation.
“How’s business,” Eva, Micky
inquired?
“Could be better,” she replied,
“Me and Amelia went to the amusement part the other day.”
“Heard about that roller coaster that
fell off its tracks,” Bungy commented, “did you see
it happen?”
For a moment, Eva described the scene, before
the door opened, and another couple entered. Two women, dressed
in tight pants and shirts, accepted a menu and table from Eva.
Waiting until they were seated, they appeared more intent upon
intimate relations with each other then their respective menus,
Eva watched her first two customers of the evening, seated close
beside each other, the black leather clad man seemed intent upon
exploring something in his companions lap, to the accompaniment
of much giggling and squirming on his part.
Before returning to her customers, Eva took
a long, appraising look at Bungy as was her usual manner with
prospective Johns. She liked what she saw. A tall, good looking
man in his thirties, Bungy looked like a bouncer, strong arms,
well developed biceps and chest muscles, a short neck, curly hair.
Yet his genial, good natured smile hid a melancholy, almost depressive
demeanor. Of two personalities, the exterior Bungy was polite
and well mannered while the inner Bungy was more introspective
and thoughtful then one might expect from a man who earned his
living tossing recalcitrant gays from a homosexual eatery. Eva
liked his inner self better then his outer one. It was the real
Bungy, she thought.
The noise level was increasing perceptibly,
as the evening wore on. Not the usual chatter or friendly banter
of heterosexuals, but raucous laughter, shouts, moans of pleasure,
giggles and snickers, vied with each other in a inharmonious babble
of noise. Here a certain element of the city could find acceptance.
No prudes allowed, no one to disturb their carnal pleasure. An
“in your face” attitude prevailed in this club. Disgusting,
even for Eva. How she longed for the fresh earth and green fields
back home, where a man was a man and a woman knew how to behave
like a godly woman, content with her own husband.
The evening wore on in a haze of cigar smoke,
the smell of fried foods, and other nameless odors. Couples came
and couples went, the evening expired. Toward 4:00 AM, tired from
the fatigue of her high heel shoes, cold from the effects of the
scanty outfit, feeling vaguely dirty and used, although no hands,
other then those of the cooks, had touched her body, she welcomed
the dawn.
The last couple of the night or morning,
which ever, she thought, were two men, the younger wearing a leather
corset with chains hanging from his arms, and rings in his ears,
nose and upper lip, while the “man” sported a large
bronze dog collar about his neck and skin tight pants, ending
in stiletto black heels. They didn’t stay long, ordering
only drinks and an omelet, they seemed more intent upon exploring
each others anatomy, then their food. Bungy tossed them out after
several moments, to the tune of much grumbling.
Eva was relieved. The cooks had gone home
for the morning, and she was left alone to change back into her
“clean” clothes.
Leaving the dressing room through the dirty,
dimly lit kitchen, she encountered Bungy, waiting for her in the
alley.
“Share a cup of coffee with me,”
was his startling proposal?
“Sure,” Eva replied, “but
I’m not accepting business at this late hour.
“Don’t want any business,”
he replied, “just want to talk.”
“OK,” Eva replied.
Together, they left the alien Gregory Club
and exited the alley into the sunlight of an early Chicago morning.
“You like working here, Bungy,”
she inquired as they walked toward a coffee shop?
“Its a living,” he replied, “you
like your job?”
She snorted in disgust. “Amelia, that’s
my girlfriend from down the hall, says she’s got a job in
some bondage house, regular pay and all that. Sure beats this
kind of work.”
They entered the coffee shop, sat down in
a booth and ordered coffee and doughnuts.
They conversed pleasantly for a few moments,
until Bungy broached the real subject on his mind, which Eva,
conversant in the ways of men, knew he would do, sooner or later.
“Lets get out of here, Eva, lets you
and me go somewhere we can breath, where we don’t have to
breath and eat filth all night long.”
“Where’s that, Bungy.”
“I don’t know. But there must
be a place where we can find decent folks, have a decent life,
earn a decent living.”
Eva shrugged. “Sounds nice but a little
vague to me. Iffen you going to take a girl out of the city, you
at least need a destination in mind, before she’ll go.”
Bungy fell silent for a moment. “I
got this feeling, Eva, that something’s going to happen,
somethin’ real big and unpleasant, real soon, like. We needs
to be far away from here, when it happens.”
“What you talkin’ about,”
Eva eyed him suspiciously. “You think the coops going to
bust the Club. Haven’t they paid their protection money lately?”
“No, its not that,” he replied
evasively.
“Then what.”
He fidgeted. “You won’t laugh
at me, now, Eva, iffen I tell you?”
“I won’t laugh,” she replied
evenly, wondering what could possibly upset this man so much that
he would fear her laughter.
He fidgeted some more, took a sip of coffee
while Eva waited. She knew how to wait for men to say what was
on their mind. Know it was better to wait then to coax them. They
only clammed up under probing.
“I thank...,” he paused, speculating
whether to confide in her, “I think,” he paused again,
then finally blurted it out, “I think Christ is coming real
soon and we need to get ready and get out of this god forsaken
place before He destroys it.”
Despite her resolve, Eva’s mouth dropped
open in surprise. Then, remembering her promise to Bungy, she
shut it firmly, but couldn’t hide an incredulous look from
spreading over her face.
“You said you wasn’t gonna laugh
at me,” Bungy said reproachfully.
“I’m not laughin’ at you,”
she replied, moderating her expression. “I agree with you.”
