Three

A man sitting at a booth, a window seat, held a phone in his hand dial side up. In the other hand he held a calling card. He was trying to read the numbers. He had just hung up the phone, and wanted to call back, but knew that would not be the answer.

Outside the silent wind was blowing a dark gray, dry hot cloud of dust. A small under watered tree planted in the parking lot island was bent over by the force of the wind. Small weak branches fought to hang onto the yellowish brown, greenish leaves violently waving in the wind. Why do they plant trees in places like that? No water! A sea of asphalt ! No way out! A paper cup, and a piece of paper swirled in the wind, and were blown against the bent over tree.

Inside the restaurant he could hear moving background noise. A of sign life. A waitress walked towards him with a menu, and a glass. The man was lost in the silent storm outside, but trapped by the life inside.

“What can I get you to drink?”, she asked?

Startled, the man turned back to background noise, “What! Oh nothing. I don’t need anything to drink.”, he said.

“A menu, Do you need a menu?”, she asked? Placing the menu and glass on the table in front of the man..

“No, nothing! I don’t need anything. A prayer?”, he said. Tears filled his eyes. One drop silently rolled down his rough face, and made a small pool on the menu.

“Prayer!”, she asked?

“Yes, prayer. Request to God. Do you have a prayer?”, he answered.

“No!”, she said, walking away laughing, leaving the glass and menu.

The man let his eyes go back to the phone, and the calling card. He thought, “Twenty-four hours, twenty-four minutes, twenty-four seconds, what difference will it make. None! He had just put more thought in not ordering than she had in ending a marriage. Call back tomorrow! That is all she had to say. Call back tomorrow! I am busy!”

Another tear rolled down his rough face. Now there were two drops on the menu. He used the edge of the card to push the drops together.

The waitress returned, and said, “My mother is here. She is a devout Nazarene. She wants to know what kind of prayer?”.

“An answer to prayer. An answer to my prayer.”, the man said.

“Oh, ok!”, the waitress said. She left the man, and returned just a few seconds later.

“My mother says she will pray for an answer. For an answer to your prayer.”, she said.

“Thank you. Tell your mother thanks!”, the man said.

He put the phone back in the cradle. A tear rolled off his face, joining the first two. Using the edge of the card he made all three one drop, and put the phone card in his shirt pocket. Leaving the life inside, he turned to look out at the silent storm. It was raining now. The wind had stopped. The small under watered dry tree was no longer bent over by the force of the wind, and soaking in much needed water. The empty cup was being filled by run off from one of the leaves, and the piece of paper had collected three drops of rain that had pooled into one drop. The mother thanked God for the power that comes from prayer. The man turned back to the quiet moving living background noise. Leaving the silent storm outside.

The waitress filled the glass with water.

“Menu?”, she asked!

“Yes, thank you.”

Written By: Doug Townsend Fall of 1999.