this rock takes their slow sweet time doing everything!'' My stereotypical observation at that moment was directed at the Bermudian waitress behind the counter at the coffee house who was busy telling another customer her entire life story. While she was busy recanting her autobiography, the rest of us were forced to wait in line and suffer through caffeine withdrawal. "And that's how I became the coffee serving queen you see before you today...'' I sarcastically mumbled the end to her story as I would tell it. "Finally!'' My eyes implied my impatience as the waitress turned to me saying, "Can I help you?'' "A large regular coffee with skim milk and two Equal sugars,'' I spat out in a condescending tone. "No problem,'' came the uninspired response as the waitress slowly shuffled around behind the counter in an attempt to fulfill my request. After what seemed like an eternity, she returned with a small brown bag and a silly smile on her face. "Is there anything else I can get for you?'' she inquired in her most professional manner, which made me even angrier. "No, just coffee,'' I exclaimed in an exasperated breath. "God forbid if I actually ate breakfast and wanted something to eat,'' I thought sarcastically to myself as I tossed the money on the counter and turned to leave. As I quickly rushed along the sidewalk avoiding the crowds of Christmas shoppers on my way to work, I was attempting to calm myself down. After all, you would think after living in Bermuda most of my adult life, I would be used to the laid-back approach which was a way of life here. However, patience was not one of my strongest characteristics and I absolutely detested waiting for anything. "Just another one of those Bermudian-born traits that I didn't inherit I suppose,'' I thought gratefully to myself. "I'd probably be no better off than that sorry waitress if I didn't have some push to get things done,'' was the conceited thought that continued in my head. "Hold the elevator!'' I commanded as I rushed into the entrance of the bank and noticed the elevator doors about to slide close. As if they heard me, the doors magically reopened and I sprang inside. "Good morning,'' came the pleasant greeting from the occupant who had obeyed my earlier instruction. "Morning,'' I responded in a forced tone twisting my mouth into what could be interpreted as a smile. "Why does everyone in Bermuda feel the need to say `Good morning' or `Good afternoon?'' my thoughts continued my earlier tirade. "Why can't they just ignore you and keep their moths shut...Who's to say I was having a good morning anyway?'' "Good morning,'' came the professional courtesy greeting from the desk outside of my office as my secretary, Maggie, watched me approach. "Morning,'' I responded flatly, still preoccupied with

9 Cassava Pie Maggie, I have to complete the financial reports for year-end before the holiday,'' I asked almost politely as she handed me a stack of phone messages.

"Of course,'' came the automatic response. "Is there anything else you'd like me to do?'' she inquired helpfully seeing the strained look on my face.

"Actually, yes, if you wouldn't mind running a personal errand for me,'' I asked in a gentler tone. "Not a problem,'' came the expected reply. "I have a silk bathrobe put aside at Trimingham's, it's a gift for my mother-in-law, can you pick it up for me?'' "Right away,'' she replied as I turned towards my office. "I'll deflect your calls to the automated phone system while I'm gone.'' `I don't know what I'd do without Maggie,' was the thought in my head just as I settled down to work on the stacks of reports and figures that were waiting for my attention. "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt,'' Maggie announced apologetically as she stood in the doorway of my office. "It's OK Maggie, come in,'' I replied, almost grateful for the interruption. "Your husband is holding for you on Line One, I didn't know if you needed to speak to him. Also I picked up your robe, it's by my desk,'' she advised politely. "Thanks Maggie. Is there something else?'' I inquired as I noticed she hadn't made any attempt to leave. "Yes,'' she continued. "I was wondering if I may leave early today...it is Christmas Eve and most of the bank staff have already left.'' "Of course Maggie,'' I responded quickly, slightly embarrassed that I hadn't suggested it first. "You can leave whenever you'd like,'' I advised sweetly trying to make amends. "Do you need me to do anything for you before I go?'' she asked. "No thanks, I will be here for a while longer finishing these reports, I have nothing else for you. And Maggie,'' I added almost as an afterthought, "you have a good Christmas holiday.'' "You too,'' she smiled politely, "and don't forget your husband is holding on your line.'' "Hi Steve, sorry to keep you holding like that. I was in the middle of something,'' I said quickly as I picked up the phone. "No problem, you wouldn't be you if you weren't so busy all the time,'' came the familiar sarcastic voice on the line. "I'm just calling to find out if you want me to pick you up in the car to take you home before we go to my parents' house this evening,'' he continued, not allowing me the opportunity to respond to his earlier, sarcastic observation. "There's no need for you to come get me, I have the bike with me,'' I pointed out, surprised that he didn't already know the obvious. "I know you have the bike,'' he replied patiently, "but have you looked outside. It's going to pour down with rain any moment now.'' "Just wonderful,'' I mumbled, almost to myself. "That doesn't matter,'' I said trying to push the thought of getting soaked out of my mind. "I think I should just meet you at your parents' house.'' "You can't be serious,'' he replied incredulously. "I'm sorry, it can't be helped, I still have a ton of work to finish here before I can leave.'' "You do know that it is Christmas Eve!'' he stated in a louder tone. "Didn't you get the memo like the rest of the world?'' "Steve, why are you treating this like it's some major production,'' I stated in an attempt to defend myself. "All you have to do is go home, pick up the gifts for your family, and I will meet you there straight from leaving the office. It's not like you've never worked late,'' I flipped back sarcastically. "Fine,'' he said quietly after a few moments of silence.

"Where are the presents for my family?'' he inquired, resigning himself to the fact that I wasn't about to change my mind. "They are stacked neatly in a pile in the guest room next to the ones for my family,'' I responded trying to sound helpful. "Were you able to get the robe for my mother?'' he asked, still sounding hurt. "Yes, I have it here with me, I'll bring it when I arrive,'' I said soothingly. "Was it the type she wanted?'' he asked, knowing that I had left ordering it until the last minute. "It's not the white one she asked for, they couldn't get it in before Christmas, so I got her a flowered one instead.'' "Just great,'' he replied, getting angry again. "Now I will have to hear about how I got the wrong colour until next Christmas.'' "Look, I'm sorry, I had no other choice,'' I said, trying to explain.

"Besides, she'll just blame me like she always does...never you.'' "That's not true,'' he argued pathetically in an attempt to defend his mother. "You know my mother likes you.'' `Yeah, right,' I thought to myself sarcastically.

"Let's not get into this now or I'll never make it to your parents' for Christmas dinner,'' I replied in an attempt to make peace. "OK,'' he sighed heavily. "I'll see you no later than seven-thirty and please don't

10 Cassava Pie confidently as I hung up the phone. I have to admit, I did feel a little guilty about having to work late on Christmas Eve, but at the same time it's not like the Christmas holiday was any different than any other time of the year. The only real difference is that it was even more rushed and hectic than normal. For the last three years since Steve and I married, we always spent Christmas Eve at his family's house for dinner, and then on Christmas Day, we went to my family's house. Boxing Day was spent entertaining friends and work colleagues, and then of course, it was back to work. Steve and I barely spent any time alone and there was never any real family time or even relaxation. I always ran around buying Christmas gifts and decorations before the holiday and then spent all my free time packing away and cleaning up after the holiday. There was never that fun, warm family feeling that I remembered experiencing as a little girl. It was all rushing around with having to buy the right presents and sitting down to formal Christmas dinners. The only thing Christmas meant, was an inconvenience to my already hectic schedule.

`All Christmas is now is more work,' was my exasperated thought as I turned my focus back to my financial reports. It was thanks in part to the loud clasp of thunder and quick flash of lightening that my eyes lazily looked up from my reports to the clock on the small table. "Oh my God,'' I shouted loudly as I jumped up from my chair in a panic noticing the time at six forty-five.

"Steve is going to be so angry,'' I thought as I stared out the window noticing how dark it had become and the light drizzle of rain that was beginning to fall. There's no way I'm going to make it to his parents' house in time in this weather. I imagined hearing his mom's voice; "She bought me a flowered robe and she showed up to my Christmas dinner late and wet!'' "Oh well,'' I thought smiling to myself as I reached for my raincoat, "at least they will finally have something interesting to talk about at the dinner table!'' It was just after seven o'clock by the time I was able to get my things together and leave the bank's building to get my bike. The light drizzle that I had noticed from my office window was now an uncomfortable downpour with the occasional loud roar of thunder and flash of lightening.

"This has got to be a product of the Ghost of Christmas Future trying to shock me into the spirit of Christmas,'' I thought trying to make myself feel better as I struggled to start my moped. As I was trying to make my way in the rain I was quickly beginning to regret turning down Steve's invitation to pick me up in the car. I was having a very difficult time negotiating the slick roads and my visibility was close to the equivalent of driving blind. Even thought at times I had joked about Bermuda being so small the only thing I could think of was how large it suddenly appeared and how I had to find a way of getting to Hamilton parish quickly. After all, the earlier argument of whether Steve's mom liked or disliked me, would become completely irrelevant after the divorce I'd know I'd be facing if I let him down again. It was these thoughts that weighed heavily on my mind as I raced along the wet roads, and turned onto a street that led to the area known as the `back of town'. The rain had now turned to a complete sheet of water stinging my face and slowly seeping through the gaps in my raincoat, causing me to shiver uncontrollably.

My glasses were completely fogged and I knew I should pull over to the side of the road because I wouldn't be able to continue until the rain eased. However, I was still determined to get to Steve's parents house and unfortunately, my determination won out over my common sense. It could have been my preoccupation with my marital status or the near hurricane that was swirling around me. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was actually lost in one of the smallest countries in the world and had no idea where I was going. It might have been one or all of these things that contributed to me being more distracted than normal. Distracted and unable to counter the sudden force that I felt hit the back end of my bike causing me to lose control.

Whatever the cause, the bike shifted from under me and slid to the opposite side of the road, and when it stopped I was thrown airborne. When my body came crashing back down to earth, I was lying face down in mud and appeared to be near a deserted lot where I was unable to move because of a sharp pain in my legs. "Oh God,'' I thought as my head was throbbing in pain and I suddenly saw the blood dripping from the side of my face. "Help....I need help.'' I felt as if I were screaming but these words were actually no more than a hushed whisper as I was struggling to catch my breath. Suddenly, I thought I could recognise a figure approaching me. I saw the shape of a tall man with a dark jacket and hat partially covering his face coming towards me. As his hand extended out towards my body, the light emanating from the street hit his face and I noticed a black face looking at mine. "Please,'' I gasped. "Please don't hurt me; take anything you want, but don't hurt me....'' His puzzled expression was the last thing I remembered as my recognition became foggy and I blacked out. "Ma...I think the lady is waking up!'' were the words