Chapter 23 Humble Pie

By the first light of dawn Sunday, I’d made up my mind to have a talk with Esther. It couldn’t wait. I had to catch her before the HandiVan picked her up at eight for her ride to church. At seven-thirty I made the twenty-yard walk to her front door, prepared to eat humble pie. Peeking through the kitchen window there was no sign of her, but the remnants of her breakfast littered the table.  

I gave a tentative knock. “Esther? It’s Lillian.”

“The door’s open,” she called from somewhere in the depths of her condo. “C’mon on in.”

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Water ran in the bathroom sink.

Esther appeared. She wore a purple skirt and jacket that were a size too small, offset by a necklace of fat lavender beads and matching earrings. “I’m just getting’ ready to leave for church,” she said.

 “I’m really sorry to bother you. I won’t take much of your time. I just really wanted to apologize for last night.”

“There’s no need—”

“Yes, Esther. There is. You invited me to your Bible study. I’m the newcomer here—a guest, really. I meant no disrespect, but I’m afraid I was disrespectful of your beliefs. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, though her voice and expression said otherwise.

“You are one of the dearest people I’ve ever met. You’re the one person here who’s gone out of your way to make me feel welcome. I’m afraid I ruined your Bible study.”

A slight smile played on her lips. “You certainly did put a new spin on an old story, one we’ve had told to us in Sunday school since the age of two.” She finally met my eyes. “Are you serious—Adam had a first wife and they broke up because she didn’t want to have sex in the missionary position?”

I allowed myself a laugh. “It’s one of the racier stories in Jewish folklore. You’ve heard of Lilith, haven’t you?”

“I’ve probably heard the name, but until last night I’d had no idea who she was.”

“Lilith is mentioned throughout literature. Even once in the Bible, in the book of Isaiah.  She’s a she-demon, the wife of Satan.”

Esther’s eyes grew large. Her hands waved in front of her face as if to ward something off. “Oh please, no. Uh uh. Don’t go there.”

“Back in New York, I enjoyed the Torah studies at my temple. We would embark on heated discussions in which we questioned traditional interpretations of the Bible—even questioned the existence of God. Debate was not only encouraged, it was expected.”

“Christians are different.” She looked at me. “My daddy was a preacher.”

“I had no idea.”

She nodded slowly, as if remembering. “In my church, when I was growing up, no deviation from the written word was ever allowed. We were taught that God revealed the one and only true interpretation of His word to our spiritual leaders, who then interpreted it for us. Anyone who questioned them was said to be possessed by demons. The few times someone dared challenge the leader’s understanding of scripture, the congregation would wrestle him—or her—to the floor and cast the demons out.”

“You witnessed this. As a child.”

“Yes.”

“You grew up conditioned not to question.”

“I grew up in fear.”

Esther found her purse and checked its contents. She grabbed her Bible. “Thank you for coming here to clear things up, Lillian.”

I nodded. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

“You’re coming to water aerobics tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“After last night, I’m not at all sure I’d be welcome.”

She paused. “How should I say this? If you want to be accepted here at Kon Tiki, and I know you do, you’re gonna have to put forth the effort—”

“I have tried. You know I have.”

“Sometimes it’s best to play along.”

***

Filtered afternoon sunlight made its way through the half-closed blinds, throwing slatted shadows across my bedroom. I gazed at the woman on the ceiling. I could swear she’d aged since we last talked, just two days ago. She smiled down at me—pityingly, it seemed.

“Esther’s right,” I told her, with a deep sigh. “The problem is, all my life I’ve been  a failure at ‘playing along.’ As much as I want to fit in, I always manage to say or do something that sets me apart from the crowd. Usually, that something is met with disapproval. I mean, I was the blonde, blue-eyed girl who ran off and married an African man. How’s that for not playing the popularity game? I didn’t do it for shock value, I did it because I fell in love with him. But back then, in the 1950’s, it made me a pariah. Even my own parents didn’t come to see me off when I got on the train that would take me across the country to New York, to get on a cargo ship headed for Ghana.”

I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes, remembering the hopes and dreams of a twenty-year-old bride-to-be. The very real fears of what awaited me as a white woman on the Dark Continent weren’t enough to dampen my spirit of adventure as I stood at the railing of the ship watched the United States grow smaller and smaller, until it wasn’t even a speck on the horizon.

In spite of my strong individualistic streak, I still wanted to belong, even here at Kon-Tiki Sands. But so far I’d proven myself lousy at fitting in. Maybe that was my fault. Apart from Esther, and perhaps Kaulana, I didn’t really care for this group of women. They seemed so cliquish, so petty and gossipy. I had nothing in common with most of them.

Could my days at Kon Tiki Sands be numbered?

I gave up on napping and climbed off the bed. Making my way through the living room, I stood by the window. My gaze fell on the heart-shaped hot tub, just visible beyond the yellow ginger, and my resolve strengthened. Pearl had been a rebel, much like me. I was the one who found her body, and I felt I owed it to her to find out what happened to her on that fateful night.