Praying in The Stock Cupboard

by Drew Payne

If he’d smoked he’d have called them his cigarette breaks, but he didn’t smoke so he called them his “sanity breaks”. He’d slip out of office for five minutes of “fresh air” on the fire escape when things in there were getting too heavy, like they were now. Ruth and Hermione were having another turf war in the middle of their open plan office. This time they were arguing over who had the more important projects, the project managers’ equivalent of “mine’s bigger then yours.” Joe had to escape that.

He always took a roundabout route to get to the fire escape, going past the minor stock cupboard in a hope no one would notice him, which they never seemed to. As he passed the cupboard, its door ajar, he thought he heard someone crying. He stopped in his tracks and listened. He’d been right; there was the sound of someone crying inside. Quietly he pushed the door open and glanced into it.

There, crouching in the middle of the tiny floor was Francine. She was actually kneeling there, her hands clasped together, muttering to herself. The sight was so strange and unexpected that he just stood there and stared at her. What the hell was going on?

After a moment Francine looked up at him, her lank hair parting little a curtain to reveal her round and freckled face.

“Are you all right?” Joe asked. It seemed the right thing to say.

“I’m praying,” she flatly replied.

She was the office Christian, the same way he was one of the office gays, Candice (who he shared a workstation with) one of the office blacks or Traci-Anne was the office Essex Girl. They seemed to like to pigeonhole people with a simple label, usually as part of a minor or small group, but Joe didn’t care. He could hide so much behind his label.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” he muttered, starting to take a step back.

“Don’t go,” Francine replied as she jumped to her feet, surprisingly quickly in her long woollen dress. “What are you doing on Saturday?”

Was she asking him for a date? This was Francine and he was one of the office gays.

“The usual, going out with my mates.”

“My church is having a Victory in Jesus rally. It’s an evangelical rally to draw in new members. You’d be very welcome and we’d love you to come along,” she said, her words rushing out of her mouth.

He’d seen the pamphlets and tracts that talked of sin and damnation and “sexual perversion” she kept leaving around the office, and they had left him feeling cold with distaste. He knew this kind of hard and judgemental religion and he wanted nothing to do with it. Those pamphlets had told him how they felt about his sexuality, so he knew it was a mutual distaste.

“No thanks, it’s not me,” he told her.

“Joe, you have to,” Francine said, taking a step towards him, her hand reaching out for his arm. “Pastor Isaac had a prophecy that I would be the lynch-pin of this office. That through me this whole office would be led to the Lord, to repentance and turning to Jesus. But that was six months ago and I can’t get one person to come to church with me. People at church are saying that I’m disobeying God, but I’m not. But everyone keeps turning their backs on the Lord. I just need one person to come to church with me so that I can show how faithful I’m being.”

The desperation on her face was naked and deeply unattractive, her pleading that of someone drowning who he couldn’t rescue. Joe actually took a step backwards, away from her.

“No, it’s really not my thing,” he said, trying to sound more resolute.

“But you really need the Lord; you live such an immortal life. God can redeem you and make you normal. I know He can and you’ll be such a better person.” Her voice was pleading, but with an excited tone.

“I’ve really got to go,” Joe replied, and positively leapt back from the cupboard.

He ran down the corridor and almost jumped through the fire escape door. He didn’t stop until his back was pressed into the corner of the fire escape and he was staring at the closed door. He waited for her to follow him, his body tense and his mind racing – for Francine to come onto the fire escape and carry on begging him to come to her stupid church. But she didn’t.

Minutes later, when it was obvious that she wasn’t following, he was finally able to relax. “God that was fucking weird,” he muttered to himself, “and so sad…”

© Drew Payne 2008

Author Biography

More Stories by this Author

Back to Current Issue