Pill Hill – Chapter 4
\nPreview from Ron and Bruno: Against the Doctatorship<\/h4>\n
Diego pulled into the driveway of the Sortida Hotel. It was just outside of Seattle\u2019s First Hill District,<\/em> also known as Pill Hill for all its hospitals and clinics. OR<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI hope you won\u2019t mind if I give Hank a call to let him know I got you here okay. You know, Hank, the cop you met at the airport. He\u2019s the one who called me to pick you up in front. Drivers aren\u2019t allowed to pick up there, but since we\u2019re both believers, he helps me out once in a while.\u201d
\n\u201cYeah, tell him you got us here.\u201d I said. \u201cMaybe we can all go to your secret church together. I\u2019m thinking meeting you and Hank may turn out to be a heavenly coincidence.\u201d
\n\u201cSerendipitous, as the secularists would say.\u201d Bruno quipped.
\n\u201cYeah, my cousin married a commie professor.\u201d Diego said. \u201cHe loves using that word. I suppose it\u2019s serendipitous that we ended up on the only planet in the universe where more than nuked cockroaches can survive. I had to look up the word, and once I knew what it meant, I decided to pray for whoever used it. I know you\u2019re a man of faith.\u201d Diego said to Bruno. \u201cBut I\u2019ll pray for you anyway so as not to break the habit.\u201d
\n\u201cGood to know you\u2019re praying for me, Diego, just so you don\u2019t mistake me for a commie professor. If I recollect right, the last time someone prayed for me, I twisted my ankle. Couldn\u2019t walk for a week. I just hope the result of your praying will be a bit more gentle than Ron\u2019s. But thanks for the ride.\u201d
\n\u201cYeah, Diego, thanks for the ride.\u201d I said.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re welcome. And thank you both. Stay free.\u201d
\nDiego bid us goodbye, handing each of us his business card as we got out of his cab.
\n\u201cVaya con Dios.\u201d Bruno said.
\nWe waved as Diego drove off. Bruno\u2019s favorite restaurants were Mexican, so he\u2019d picked up a bit of Spanish over the years. To the staff, he was a welcome face, and not just for his friendly attitude and good tips. But because they could depend on him to subdue unruly customers. His bellowing voice and fists pounded on the table were usually all it took. If that didn\u2019t work, Bruno was willing to take what he called corrective measures<\/em>. He liked to say that he preferred iron fists to steel bullets. I\u2019d never had the pleasure to witness Bruno dishing out corrective measures<\/em>. But knowing his knack for words, I\u2019m sure every punch came with a punchline.
\nThe last time I\u2019d been to the Sortida Hotel was to dine at the Sortida Back Room, a five-star restaurant on the top floor. It had a fabulous view of Puget Sound and Downtown Seattle. For $9.95 they served a full course meal that included Prime Rib. Let\u2019s see, that was 44 years ago, when I was just 25. My date was Vilma, my Filipina girlfriend. She paid for our dinner. I didn\u2019t find out till years later that in the Philippines, if the girl is rich, she thinks nothing of footing the bill for her less financially fit date. My contribution was my two-for-one dinner discount card. There must have been some marketing benefit for a five-star restaurant to include itself on a discount card. You\u2019d think. But it sure was a benefit to us. After deducting one meal, adding coffee for me, and a drink for Vilma, plus a 20% tip on top of the total before discount, the cost was still less than twenty-five bucks. Maybe I should have paid for the meal myself, but my date had just gotten lucky on coffee futures. She\u2019d put in five-thousand and gotten back twenty-five thousand. She netted twenty thousand in less than two months. She was the only smart gambler I ever met. It was her first and last bet. It tided her over for a few years on top of what she was getting from her well-connected father, or was it alimony? Being the 80\u2019s, and my having no interest in a serious relationship, I didn\u2019t ask where all her money came from.
\nBut there was one thing about Vilma that she couldn\u2019t hide. I arrived one night at her apartment to find a friend <\/em>of ours coming out the door just as I was about to knock. I found her lying <\/em>in bed. And yes, I learned later, the dual meaning fit. There were cough medicine bottles strewn all over the bathroom and towels with blood. She was very pale. For someone who normally had a dark complexion this was a dire warning. I wrapped her up in a blanket and put her in my car, then drove to Harbor View Medical Center. I parked as close as I could to the emergency entrance, then picked her up and bolted through the double doors. There were two police officers standing next to a table between the first and second set of doors. One of them waived a nurse over who was standing next to the ER desk. She pointed to a stretcher. I laid Vilma on it and the nurse rolled her inside.
\n\u201cYou packin?\u201d The officer asked.
\nI nodded.
\n\u201cLeave it on the table. You can get it on the way out.\u201d
\nThere was another pistol in its holster already laying there.
\n\u201cThat belongs to the cab driver delivering blood\u201d He said.
\nI did as I was told, then walked over to where the nurse had rolled Vilma.
\n\u201cMy girlfriend\u2019s hemorrhaging and losing blood fast.\u201d I said.
\nThe nurse got Vilma\u2019s insurance card and handed it to the person behind the ER desk.
\n\u201cHave a seat here in the lobby.\u201d She said. \u201cOnly relatives can go where I\u2019m taking her.\u201d
\nExcept for cab drivers,<\/em> she might have said. Because for the next hour, cab drivers kept going through the heavy double doors that divided the lobby from the patient rooms. They were delivering packages labeled blood. A few hours later and the doctor called me in to see Vilma. She was back to normal. The color had returned to her face. She was alert and seated in a wheelchair.
\n\u201cShe\u2019s good to go.\u201d The doctor said. Then looking at me with all seriousness, he stated. \u201cYour baby didn\u2019t make it.\u201d
\nVilma, my now ex-girlfriend looked at me. I remained silent to protect the guilty. I had a vasectomy. But I didn\u2019t blame her for straying. Ours was an on again off again relationship. I took Vilma back to her apartment and sat in a chair to keep an eye on her. It was my day off. Staying up while she slept wasn\u2019t anything heroic. I worked the night shift. I\u2019d have been up till 6am whether at her place or mine. And when she woke up, I left.
\nI didn\u2019t hear from Vilma for years after that. Then out of the blue she calls me up to help her move out on her fianc\u00e9, on the very day she\u2019d moved in with him. I had a talk with her soon to be mother-in-law. She said her son was crazy about Vilma, and that she was too, and that she loved her like a daughter. I never found out what caused Vilma to call me that day. Maybe she had to be sure we really were over. But I hadn\u2019t given it a second thought after her self-induced abortion.
\nI know it\u2019s a lot to think about in the seven seconds between my getting out of the taxi and turning around to find Edwin, the bellhop. But the Sortida Hotel had lots of memories for me.
\n\u201cHi. Sir Ron?\u201d The bellhop asked.
\n\u201cYes, I\u2019m Ron.\u201d I replied.
\n\u201cWe\u2019ve been expecting you.\u201d He said.
\nStill true to my new habit, I looked at his name tag. He had the same last name as the girl I\u2019d just been reminiscing about, Santos. It\u2019s one of the most common Filipino names, so it was unlikely he was related to her.
\n\u201cPlease excuse the workers.\u201d He said. \u201cThey\u2019re testing all the hotel security cameras today. I\u2019m sure they\u2019ll be finished by evening.\u201d
\n\u201cWalang suliranin<\/em>.\u201d I replied.
\nWhich meant, no problem, <\/em>in his language. With Santos for a surname, and his pronouncing f\u2019s like p\u2019s, it didn\u2019t take a linguist to know he was Filipino.
\n\u201cOh, you speak my language!\u201d He said.
\n\u201cYes, I happen to be one of the few old white guys who can speak Filipino, other than Mormon missionaries. But I\u2019d bet you speak a few of your own languages, plus English.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, I speak my mother\u2019s and my father\u2019s languages and the two national languages, Filipino and English. Plus, I\u2019m learning Spanish from my fianc\u00e9e.\u201d He said.
\n\u201cOh yeah, I\u2019d forgotten how English is one of your national languages. Kind of amazing how it\u2019s yours but not ours.\u201d
\n\u201cOh, really, Sir Ron. I didn\u2019t know that.\u201d
\n\u201cBy the way, Edwin. How\u2019d you know my name?\u201d
\n\u201cThe bellhops are the first ones to see the guest itinerary and your reservation profile included a picture, Sir Ron.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s good. I was just wondering because I ain\u2019t wearing a name tag and I ain\u2019t famous.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, you are not famous.\u201d He said.
\nThere was an odd tone to his voice when he said it. But it was an hour past nap time for old Ron, and everything gets a bit odd when I\u2019m late for my siesta.
\nBruno didn\u2019t have a bag except for the wrinkled grocery bag he was carrying. He\u2019d be heading home after he got his form signed. It was just a ferry boat ride and a short trip by taxi to his place. I remembered the story my dad told me about a ferry ride with my nephew. They were standing on the top deck and all of a sudden, the horn blasts. My nephew about jumps out of his socks. Then he looks up at my dad and says: \u201cDo it again, Grampa, do it again!\u201d
\nAs usual, my mind was everywhere but where I was. The bump of my bag on the cart brought me back to the present.
\n\u201cBy the way, Edwin, this is my friend Bruno.\u201d I said. \u201cWe\u2019ve got a form to get signed over at the hospital. He\u2019s just hanging out till we get it taken care of, then we\u2019ll celebrate.\u201d
\n\u201cNice to meet you, Edwin.\u201d Bruno said.
\n\u201cNice to meet you too, Sir Bruno.\u201d He replied.
\n\u201cWelp, I told you my family descended from the Knights of the Round Table, old Ron. See how he called me Sir Bruno?\u201d
\n\u201cOh, sorry sir. It\u2019s our custom. I just came back from a trip to my country, and all my old habits have returned. I\u2019ll try to remember next time, Sir Bruno, I mean, Bruno.\u201d
\n\u201cOh, it\u2019s no problem, Edwin. I\u2019m jousting a bit with my old friend Ron.\u201d Bruno said.
\n\u201cOh, jousting.\u201d Edwin said. \u201cSo maybe Ron\u2019s a knight too.\u201d
\n\u201cThis kid\u2019s got rhythm, Ron. But I\u2019m not surprised. He\u2019s a workin as a doorman at one of the most exclusive hotels. I can imagine the kind of pull Sir Edwin must have.\u201d
\nBruno took a stride like a warrior king as we entered the Sortida Hotel, cradling his well-worn MAGA hat like a knight\u2019s helmet.
\nAs we proceeded through the doors of the elegant Sortida, I forgot for a moment that I was one of the detested class, an old, straight, white man. Funny how they\u2019d substituted the word privileged for detested and felt that gave them permission to treat us like second class citizens. Well, I didn\u2019t put up with it. I was vocal, and so were my friends, few of whom even belonged to the detested class. But now we were being treated like royalty, guests at the Sortida Hotel.
\n\u201cSo Bruno, the stairs or the elevator?\u201d I said.
\nBruno noticed Edwin\u2019s nervous glances toward the front desk. It might have broken protocol if Edwin\u2019s guests, who were to receive five-star service, bounded up the stairs of the hotel. But I must admit it was tempting.
\n\u201cNo, Ron. I think I\u2019d rather enjoy the fine service this young man is providing. His service is every bit as elegant as the hotel.\u201d
\nI could see the relief on Edwin\u2019s face. His home country was one where authority was honored. Even if the desk clerk hadn\u2019t minded, Edwin would never have felt comfortable with guests bounding up the stairs at the Sortida.
\nEdwin held the doors open as we stepped into the elevator. The mahogany panels oozed nostalgic reminders of the Sortida that once was, and the famous men who\u2019d dined at the Back Room Bar on top. We were only going to the second floor, but I planned on going to the top later, to see what memories I might awaken. Memories have so many doors. Open one, it leads to more. Ha, I was already daydreaming in poetry. Now, I knew I\u2019d find a tale to spin about this place, even if only for a children\u2019s story.
\nEdwin followed us into the elevator with the luggage cart.
\n\u201cI have your check-in information here.\u201d He said. \u201cYou\u2019re booked five nights in room 211, isn\u2019t it?\u201d
\n\u201cYes, five nights. And 211, it is<\/em>.\u201d I said.
\nIt was d\u00e9j\u00e0 vu when Edwin said, \u201cIsn\u2019t it?\u201d That\u2019s exactly what Vilma, my ex-girlfriend, would say. I\u2019d never heard it used prior to meeting her. It\u2019s simply not American English. But for Filipinos it makes perfect sense. It\u2019s a direct translation of their phrase that turns any statement into a question. It was Vilma\u2019s non-standard English, contrasted with her high intelligence, that turned my once snobbish attitude about proper English, into one of accepting the way a person speaks, as long as they\u2019re able to make their point.
\nWhen we arrived outside Room 211, Edwin looked up at the closed-circuit camera on the ceiling. There was a monitor connected to it so that anyone entering would know they were not anonymous. It was flickering like an old black and white TV and then went off.
\n\u201cEver since CHAZ.\u201d Edwin said. \u201cYou know, the Capital Hill Autonomous Zone. Since CHAZ, we\u2019ve implemented strict security protocols. Don\u2019t worry, I\u2019ll report that camera. We\u2019re only eight blocks from where the takeover happened. You\u2019ve heard about CHAZ, right?\u201d
\n\u201cYes, yes, we\u2019ve heard about CHAZ.\u201d Bruno answered, with contempt in his voice.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t like them either.\u201d Edwin said.
\nEdwin unlocked the door to my suite and handed me the key. The lights and heat were already on.
\n\u201cThis is your suite. And this door opens to your bedroom.\u201d He said.
\nEdwin opened the door to my bedroom. It was reminiscent of pictures I\u2019d seen of the bedrooms of kings. The bed included a headboard that rose five feet behind its satin pillows. Ornate carvings of flowers, leaves and branches were cut into its ebony stained hardwood. Heart shaped leather insets were nested within an embroidered braid of vines. See-through curtains created a dream-like effect as the chandelier reflected off its threads. Finely upholstered chairs were on each side of the bed. Matching armoires stood with doors open, robes hung on wooden hangers and slippers leaned against their base. Valet stands were placed like guards next to the armoires and a padded chest was at the foot of the bed.
\nI didn\u2019t deserve this room<\/em>. Nor did I reserve <\/em>this room. But I was anxious to find out who did. It was a gift from an anonymous donor. Why I\u2019d received such a gift, I was to find out. At least, according to the letter I\u2019d been given along with the reservation.
\nNow this, was a room! I\u2019d never imagined such a room, let alone been in one. I was tempted to take a nap just so I could wake up in that majestic bed.
\nEdwin\u2019s voice brought me back from my, well, how would you describe it, from my immersion in the room.
\n\u201cSo, you like the room, isn\u2019t it?\u201d He said.
\n\u201cYes, it is<\/em>, a fact<\/em>, I love <\/em>this room! Why would anybody give me such a gift? I really think it\u2019s some kind of strange mistake, like somebody with tons of money put the room in the wrong name, and after they\u2019d mistakenly given me the reservation, didn\u2019t want to take it back for fear of bad publicity. If that\u2019s the case, and you know who it is, just tell me, and I\u2019ll get another room. I won\u2019t tell anyone about it.\u201d
\n\u201cOh no, Sir Ron. It\u2019s not a mistake. It was wonderful seeing your reaction to it.\u201d
\nEdwin handed me his business card which included his cell number and the extension for the concierge.
\n\u201cWell, this is great.\u201d I said. Then I handed him a tip.
\n\u201cThank you!\u201d Edwin said. \u201cAnd by the way, Diego wanted me to text him when I got you to your room. Yes, Sir Ron. I know Diego and Hank, both of them. I\u2019ve attended Diego\u2019s secret church too.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s good to know, Edwin. If it weren\u2019t for that, I\u2019d think you were all Feds by now.\u201d
\n\u201cFeds?\u201d Edwin asked.
\n\u201cNo worry, it\u2019s an inside joke, Edwin. I\u2019m too worn out to explain it now. And yes, go ahead and give Diego a call. He\u2019s a brother.\u201d
\n\u201cIn more ways than one.\u201d Edwin replied. \u201cI\u2019m engaged to Bella, his sister. She works at the hospital. Diego said you might need help to get in. She can get you in and make sure you see the right person to sign your form. Take that nap you\u2019ve been looking forward to. I could see in your eyes how much you wanted to try that bed. Then after you\u2019re rested, I\u2019ll take you to the side door of the hospital where you\u2019ll need to enter.\u201d
\n\u201cWow, that\u2019s, that\u2019s a blessing. This is going to be a lot easier than either Bruno, or I thought. Right, Bruno?\u201d
\nI looked to where I thought Bruno was standing but he was already sound asleep. He was lying on the couch in the main area of my suite. He must have conked out right after we walked in.
\n\u201cHe probably got up really early to meet you at the airport.\u201d Edwin said.
\n\u201cYeah, well, it\u2019s good he\u2019s resting. It\u2019s never easy to finalize paperwork for a loved one who\u2019s passed away. It\u2019s like saying goodbye to them all over again. I know. I\u2019ve had to do it myself.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, so have I, Sir Ron.\u201d
\n\u201cEdwin, I\u2019d prefer it, if you don\u2019t call me Sir Ron. We\u2019re both believers. And, as of today we have a lot of friends in common. Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?\u201d
\n\u201cWell, I figured out what you meant by your joke about the Feds, but that\u2019s not what I wanted to tell you. It\u2019s just that, I\u2019ve got one more heavenly coincidence to tell you. You see, I am here because of you.\u201d
\n\u201cOkay, so what\u2019s going on, Edwin?\u201d
\n\u201cWell, Mr. Miller. Sorry, I, I just don\u2019t feel comfortable calling someone older than me by their first name.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s okay Edwin. My kids wouldn\u2019t either, and<\/em> I wouldn\u2019t be happy with them if they did. So, what\u2019s this you want to tell me?\u201d
\n\u201cUm, Mr. Miller. I have something to finalize too. It\u2019s the last request of my mom. She passed away a year ago.\u201d
\n\u201cOh, I\u2019m sorry to hear that, Edwin. Grieving is a difficult thing to deal with.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, but I was at her bedside when she died, and she was able to share so much with me. I never had a doubt as she left her body behind that she was cradled away in the Lord\u2019s arms.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s wonderful, Edwin. So, what have you got to finalize? I\u2019d be happy to help you with it.\u201d
\n\u201cWell, Mr. Miller. You\u2019re actually the only one who can <\/em>help me. You see, my mother knew you. And she told me she regretted not thanking you.\u201d
\n\u201cSo, your mom was Vilma Santos?\u201d I said.
\nNow Edwin\u2019s seriousness vanished as he burst into laughter. \u201cYes!\u201d He continued to laugh, but still managed to get out the words: \u201cAnd my aunt was Nora Aunor.\u201d Then he laughed till tears filled his eyes. When he regained his composure, he asked: \u201cSo, she never told you her real name?\u201d
\n\u201cNow that you mention it, I must have been pretty dense not to realize Vilma was her nickname. I\u2019d even told her she looked like Nora Aunor, the Philippine actress who competed with Vilma Santos for roles. Chalk it up to my being a shallow young man.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, I mean, no, No, you were, you were not shallow, Mr. Miller.\u201d Edwin began to laugh again. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. I\u2019m rude.\u201d He said, barely able to contain himself. \u201cThis is not right.\u201d He said, regaining his composure. \u201cI should not be laughing when this is a serious matter.\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry about it, Edwin. You remind me of your mom. She loved to laugh and had cute expressions like, \u2018What in the worldy pie!\u2019\u201d
\n\u201cShe said that when she was young?\u201d He asked. \u201cI thought she only talked like that because she was my mom, and we were kids. What else did she do?\u201d
\n\u201cWell, the first time I heard the Filipino nursery rhyme about a bald father falling into a well.\u201d
\n\u201cIt was from my mom?\u201d Edwin exclaimed.
\nHe had the biggest grin, and I could see this was giving him a lot of joy, hearing what his mom was like when she was young.
\n\u201cYeah, and she sang it with such glee, as if she was five years old all over again, taunting the neighbor kids. She was adorable.\u201d
\n\u201cIt\u2019s wonderful to hear that you cared about her. Now I must tell you about her, after you knew her. And I must tell you one of her last requests, the one that included you.\u201d
\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m honored, Edwin. Let\u2019s take a seat over here at the table.\u201d
\nWe sat down and Edwin continued.
\n\u201cShe said one of the things she loved about you was your idealism, and from the way you remember her, I can understand what she meant. You have an idealism that most people lose after they\u2019ve lost their innocence. But she said that even though you were a disco playboy, that you were the most romantic man she\u2019d ever met. She kept the letter that you sent to her when she was working in the Alaskan cannery, the letter that caused her to drop that job and come back to Seattle to be with you. She confessed to me that every time she was angry with Dad that she\u2019d waive that letter in his face.\u201d
\n\u201cWell, some things don\u2019t go the way they\u2019re planned, Edwin, at least not the way men and women want them to. What about your dad?\u201d I asked.
\n\u201cDad was a new Christian when he married mom, and mom had done a good job of fooling about everyone when it came to her faith. My grandpa and the members of his church, everyone, thought she was a Christian. But she\u2019d never really accepted the Lord, at least not in Dad\u2019s lifetime, and Dad knew it, so he left her a letter. And I don\u2019t mean any offense by this, Mr. Miller, but the letter that Dad left her made yours look like filthy rags<\/em>, as the scripture goes.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, I know the scripture, Edwin.
\nWe are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteous acts are as filthy rags, and we all do fade as a leaf, and our sins, like the wind, have taken us away.
\n<\/em>Nothing we do in this world, as you know, Edwin, can compare to Jesus\u2019 work on the cross. Our works are as filthy rags and that includes all the love letters and love songs that have ever been written. No love story, Edwin, is more beautiful than the real-life love story of Jesus, sacrificing Himself for us on the cross.\u201d
\n\u201cAmen, Mr. Miller. And Dad told Mom everything about his faith, with the letter he left for her, and how Jesus loved mom more than he ever could. And how he would have gladly let her marry anyone in the world if he could only know on his dying bed that she had accepted Jesus. Mr. Miller, my mom got saved that day, the very day that my dad went to be with the Lord.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s a wonderful story of God\u2019s grace, Edwin, for by grace we are saved through faith, and that not of ourselves: it is the gift of God<\/em>.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, and I\u2019m so thankful. because when Mom died, she was more in love with Jesus than with Dad, or you, or all the money and jewelry she\u2019d accumulated. And that was no small amount.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, Vilma was blessed with an ability to accumulate wealth. I\u2019m glad she finally put her trust in God\u2019s treasure, His own Son.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, Mr. Miller. But I better tell you Mom\u2019s real name, so I don\u2019t start laughing again when you call her Vilma. Her name was Victoria. She signed V. Santos, so it was only natural that Filipinos would kid, \u2018Let me guess, Vilma?\u2019 And she\u2019d giggle and say, \u2018Yes.\u2019 When you admitted her to the hospital, that may have even happened. There are so many Filipinas that work as nurses in the U.S.\u201d
\n\u201cWhich hospital?\u201d I said, still covering for her indiscretion.
\n\u201cMr. Miller, all my family knows what happened and about the hospital. My mom told us about all of that in the days before she died.\u201d
\n\u201cShe didn\u2019t have to do that.\u201d I said.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what she said you\u2019d say.\u201d
\nNow Edwin teared up from emotions, but he continued.
\n\u201cYou know, Mr. Miller, part of the reason Mom wanted me to contact you, was so to tell you that she\u2019d come to know the Lord. And that she\u2019d see you on the other side, as one of your Christian friends.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m so happy to hear that, Edwin. I look forward to seeing her and so many more of my friends and family when it\u2019s my turn to die. It took a lot of life\u2019s punches to get me on my knees before God. And it\u2019s beautiful to know that the Lord has a mansion with many rooms where my Christian friends have already taken up residence, and that they\u2019ll be there when I arrive.\u201d
\n\u201cAmen, Mr. Miller. So as you know, after my mom accepted Jesus, she was a new creature in Christ. And she kept a daily log of what she must do to serve God. Her final confessions, and last wishes, were in that daily log. Her death was quick. The Lord was gentle with her. My dad did his best to get his whole family saved but he wasn\u2019t successful during his lifetime. Mom was Dad\u2019s last convert, but as I\u2019ve said, that didn\u2019t happen till the day he died. But when she did accept Jesus, something happened to her, and to everyone in the family. God\u2019s spirit worked through her, and then through each one of the family as they experienced God\u2019s calling. So, when we read her log, as she requested that we do in her will, we were shocked to learn that she killed her first baby with cough medicine and that you saved her life.\u201d
\n\u201cNow, wait a minute, Edwin. I don\u2019t think I saved her life. If that guy who was visiting her didn\u2019t know I was coming, I\u2019m sure he would have gotten her to the hospital. But he knew I packed a gun. He probably figured I\u2019d be angry if I found out that he had something to do with her drinking that cough medicine.\u201d
\n\u201cMr. Miller, I respect you. But I can only tell you what my mom wrote in her daily log. She said that man, I won\u2019t name him, was cursing her, and telling her he wished she was dead, for no reason at all. She called you because she knew he was leaving. But when you got there, she was afraid to say anything to you, because she knew you were against abortion. That\u2019s why you got a vasectomy, isn\u2019t it?\u201d
\n\u201cWell, Edwin, that\u2019s only half true. Sure, I didn\u2019t want any woman to kill my kid. That was part of it. But I still thought it should be legal for others. Then a few months after I\u2019d had my vasectomy, I was reading my favorite filthy magazine, they may still sell it today, it\u2019s called Hustler. Well, in that particular issue, the publisher, Larry Flint, allowed both pro-abortion and pro-life arguments to be presented. The pro-life argument included pictures. After I saw those pictures of babies developing in the womb, and what they did to them at the abortion clinics, I could never say I was against abortion for me but not against it for others. That\u2019s a condescending elitist view, and it\u2019s wrong. Because if abortion is murder when it\u2019s my kid, it\u2019s murder when it’s your kid too, unless for some elitist reason, your kid\u2019s inferior to mine. But the only favor I knew I\u2019d done for your mom, was to keep quiet when the doctor thought the aborted baby was mine. Oh man, I didn\u2019t mean to let that slip.\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Mr. Miller. You haven\u2019t revealed any secrets. She wrote in her log that she was nearly as thankful that you were the kind of man that would not shame a woman in public, as she was that you saved her life. And me, my brothers and my sisters, and my nieces and my nephews, not one of us would be here, if you hadn\u2019t saved her life. That\u2019s what I meant when I said, I\u2019m here because of you.\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019re going to have to stop, Edwin. You don\u2019t know all the sins I\u2019ve committed in my life.\u201d I said.
\n\u201cMr. Miller, we both know that when you were saved that every sin you committed was forgiven, past, present, and future. The Lord already knew everything about you.\u201d
\n\u201cI know, Edwin. But there\u2019s no good deed that can make up for all the sins a man commits. Our Lord died for our sins. His blood is on our hands.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd praise God, our Savior Jesus, that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood. He loved us so much that He gave His life for you and me while we were yet sinners.<\/em>\u201d
\n\u201cAmen.\u201d I said. \u201cSo, has this discussion of ours taken care of your mom\u2019s last wishes?\u201d
\n\u201cNo, Mr. Miller, it hasn\u2019t. You see, my dad was onboard a fishing boat along with my uncle when it sank. The waters were so cold that even though they had life jackets, they\u2019d gone to be with the Lord before anyone could pull them from the water. My uncle was my godfather. My uncle was godfather to all of us. And Mom\u2019s last request was that you become our godfather and godfather to all the Santos family.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what to say, Edwin. But of course, whatever she wanted is fine. I\u2019d be honored.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you\u2019ve accepted. My sister gave birth this week to a baby boy. She\u2019ll be so happy to hear that you can be there for his dedication, and to be his godfather. It\u2019s this Sunday.\u201d
\n\u201cWhere will the dedication take place, Edwin?\u201d
\n\u201cIt will be here, at the hotel. In fact, that\u2019s how you got your room. We reserved the banquet hall as if it were for a wedding. The wedding package included some rooms.\u201d
\n\u201cWell, thank you for the room, Edwin.\u201d
\n\u201cOh, don\u2019t thank me. I\u2019m simply doing what my mom would have done. You know, she was always extravagant. This is what she would have wanted. But I\u2019ll go for now, Mr. Miller. I\u2019m sure you\u2019d like to rest before going to the hospital to get Bruno\u2019s form signed. It\u2019s still early.\u201d
\n\u201cThanks, Edwin. I will.\u201d<\/p>\nProceed to Next Chapter – Click Here<\/a><\/h3>\n
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