Church Games
It had been a hectic morning. Between answering the phone and preparing the children's brown-bag lunches for the church day camp, Margie hardly had time to dress for the nine-thirty visit of her new found friend, Daphne.
She looked forward to the visit hoping to strike up a lasting relationship with the fashionable lady.
Daphne was quick to show her disdain for people who invested their lives in church activities.
"You church people are so unbelievable," Daphne interrupted, "You do so many things that are completely senseless, and then you get a guilt trip out of doing them."
Daphne was not one to mince words. As a matter of fact, she often bordered on being rude. A divorcee who had escaped a strife-torn marriage with a handsome cash settlement of almost three million, she let her cynical attitude toward traditional values sneak into almost every conversation she had.
She was an attractive blue-eyed brunette. Since costs were not a matter of concern, she wore the latest fashions. The short black skirt with its slight flare at the hem line and her white, almost sheer, nylon blouse surely came from an exclusive designer shop in the heart of Dallas. There could be no doubt that her outfit had been custom fitted to her trim figure. From her neat, short coiffure -- her French stylist learned it during his last trip to Paris -- down to her beautiful black nylon stockinged legs, carefully crossed at the knee to emphasize their length and beauty, and ending in her slender feet, tipped in Ferigamo fashioned, Italian pumps; she had elegance written all over her.
But it was her carefree, lighthearted manner that drew Margie to her. She was so very uninhibited, so unburdened by all the mores that seemed to fetter the people of Margie's acquaintance.
Although not subscribing to all her proffered ideas and concepts, Margie could not help admiring the frankness and the apparent freedom from worry that this lady always seemed to exhibit.
"You church folk are always on the run. You don't seem to have any extra time to enjoy the world."
"God's world!" Margie had added with a pique of self-righteousness making sure that Daphne knew she was treading on sensitive ground. Although contesting the matter no further, she didn't quite appreciate the "church folks" label that Daphne had put on her and her friends.
"Margie, have you ever really looked into yourself to see what you are missing? Here you are, thirty-four years old -- I'm guessing that because you finished at Ole Miss two years after I did -- and you have the best part of your life in front of you. Get with it woman; there's golfing, and tennis, and movies, and delightfully exciting nights doing the oodles of clubs and casinos with a new and interesting date for each time. You're missing out on the essence of living."
It was obvious to Margie that Daphne had taken her on as a pupil in her school of "Worldly Living." Perhaps she was also seeing her as a potential partner in many of the activities that she mentioned.
Like a dripping faucet, Daphne didn't let up. "Margie, you're not happy, I can tell. You're always rushing around like you are late for something or other."
As if to prove her point, she leaned forward and rearranged a wisp of Margie's hair that had fallen askew.
"You poor thing. If you are like the rest of your church friends, you're spending most of your time dressing and feeding kids and chauffeuring them around to all their meetings."
Then as if some remembrance gave her a fleeting pang of guilt, she frowned but quickly extinguished it with a light smile that looked something less than genuine.
"Bringing up children is important, but it is hard work and full of heartaches. That's why I didn't contest my ex's request in the divorce proceedings for custody of my two. It was a weight off my back to give them up. Now, I get to see them once every month or so when I take the time to do it, but I don't have to worry about chickenpox, or get frantic over those pesky fevers that always seemed to come on a Saturday evening when you can't raise a doctor."
Daphne's countenance was beginning to take on a strange aura. Margie noticed the bright glint in her eyes and the smirky curl of her lips as she paused between sentences. It was as if she knew that she was touching something sacred to Margie and was enjoying the sensation of manipulating her feelings.
Margie asked herself why she was continuing to sit and listen to this one who spoke heresy in almost every utterance. Yet, in each of Daphne's comments there seemed to be an element of truth that applied to her. She wondered if deep within her own heart she did not have a secret longing for the exciting life that Daphne was describing. Although she rarely had time to watch an afternoon Soap, she sometimes wondered how it would be to take the place of one of the carefree ladies that allowed herself to be ravished by some rogue in the story. In her minds eye, the rogue had neat black hair, a thin mustache accentuated by flashing white teeth, and always bore a strong resemblance to the Reverend Bobby-Joe Woodward.
"You and your church crowd are just going through motions," Daphne continued, "You subscribe to such high ideals, but you are not much different from all the rest of us. You run to and fro like children on a play ground searching for satisfaction and never finding it. It's as if you are trying to build up enough points to merit Heaven," and pausing for emphasis, she put her cup aside and leaned forward, her eyes radiating a shimmering incandescence. "And if one day you should get there, mind you, it will be more, and more running around trying to please an insatiable God who will never let you be yourself. It's nothing but a game, a church game, and you Margie, are playing it to the nth degree."
It was easy to see that Daphne was enjoying her monologue. It took effort for Margie to disregard her feelings. A fleck of indignation touched her senses, and she felt obligated to defend herself and the establishment that her friend was maligning. "Daphne, that's just not right; you're talking about something I believe in, and I'd rather talk about something else."
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