Wounded Pilgrim 15

ENJOYING YOUR YOUTH

Bartholomew arrived at his bed-sitter apartment feeling tired to the core like a beast of burden. The time was a quarter to three o'clock. The day was Saturday a day he was not supposed to go to work but he went to clear the week's work that could have piled up so that on Monday he would not have a lot leftovers to battle with. He was among the few employees who cleared their workload on time all the time whether their was a deadline or not. That made him his boss's favourite making him to be envied by his colleagues.

"Bartho! How do you spend your free time?" Mildred once asked him one day when she bumped on him on his way from the office. She had heard that he came to work six days a week but never believed till that day.
"Why do you want to know?" He asked her mischievously.
"Because you are doing a disservice to yourself and the rest of us who don't do like you." She went on.
"As long as the boss is okay with me am never quitting this if that is what you are implying.
"Let's leave that aside, just answer my initial question how do you kill your free time."
"Milly I don't have free time"
"So you don't rest or take time off your busy schedule?"
"I rest at night when I sleep and if am to rest properly then it would be when they put me underground"
"Oh my God! So your youth will simply go into waste like that?"
"I go church cleaning, sing in the choir among other church activities when I get time"
"That is pretty much cool but you need to enjoy your youth like the Bible said, I also know a little of the Bible" Mildred bragged awkwardly.
"But in that verse if you read to the end it says something very important that you are overlooking at the moment" Bartholomew challenged her.
"What is the rest of the verse?"
"Rejoice, O young man, in your youth; and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth, and walk in the ways of your heart, and in the sight of your eyes: but know, that for all these things God will bring you to judgment." Mildred didn't last a minute murmuring something as she hurried to join some man who was waiting for her in a car nearby. The guy had been hooting all this time for them.

Bartholomew now stayed with Richy, Eliezer's young brother something he had tried to shrug off his shoulder for long but was unsuccessful. He was probably not good at arguing to prove his points and often at times when confronted by many people over an issue he often surrendered early.
"Why are sleeping upto this time young man?" Bartholomew asked politely as he entered the stuffy and dark room. Someone was definitely enjoying his youth from what he saw as he looked at the sleeping Richard. It was hot and humid but the guy was fast asleep like it was just okay. Bartholomew himself if he wanted to sleep during the day he would have to bath first and open the windows and door and pull the heavy curtains aside so that he could sleep in a cool room. "This guy must be a genius" he thought.

Richy turned lazily in bed and went back to sleep again. The curtains were not pulled apart and so were the windows still locked. In fact the door looked from outside when he approached. He would be wondering where the young men had gone to but now he was wondering if he had managed to sleep since morning. He was wondering the young man had even cooked something for lunch or not. He was hungry since he didn't take breakfast in the morning being a Saturday no tea girl was around to serve him with breakfast.

"What were dirty utensils doing on the floor instead of the sink?" Bartholomew wanted to ask as he tried to scan the room again with his tired eyes but he wanted the first question he asked answered.
"I asked you a question Richard" he almost bellowed. He moved closer to the sleeping boy and called him again. Instead of getting an answer he got snoring for an answer. He was getting upset and so he moved and shook the boy violently as he called him louder. What followed was a fist on his face so hot that he staggered backwards and landed on last night's dirty utensils that were placed on the floor without a clear reason. The fist had come without a warning and so were the consequences.