Bosom on Fire

II - Slippery Slope

Lawrence feels a prick in his chest as he boards a taxi to LHM church headquarters. The loud reggae playing in the cramped car couldn't stop the lie he told Bassey from taunting his insides. He knew he couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't re-visit her whether he cared about her spiritual well-being or not. The rule is the rule. But he had in the heat of salvaging the moment plunged himself into a commitment that he couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't keep. This is why there is a rule. But what happens when the rule doesn't make provision for an abnormally.

I did it for the one like you would have done Lord, Lawrence tries to convince himself as the taxi eases through the light traffic by Immanuel Hospital towards Barracks road. He doesn't admire the white hibiscus bush that fences the abandoned brick Victorian house he has been saving up to buy.

He sits, eyes shut, through the drive.

Nkese, the church secretary, is surprised to see Lawrence exit a dusty red Kia Spectra less than thirty minutes after he left for follow-up. She calls from her window by the church gate. "Pastor Lawrence, that was quick. Nobody home?"

Under normal circumstances, Lawrence would indulge Nkese's friendliness—he would find it sisterly—but today he waves at her, lowers his head, and approaches the entrance of the off-white church building, holding back tears.

Lawrence begins to feel relief as he mutters confessions on his knees. He begs for his name to be returned to the book of life. "Forgive me, Lord. I am a sinner. Wash me with the blood of your son, Jesus." he mouths repeatedly for about an hour.

A call interrupts his routine evening meditation. Lawrence fishes around the outlines and copies of different bible versions on the white table in his office to find his white iPhone XR, a birthday gift from the home cell fellowship in his house.

"Hello pastor Lanre," Lawrence greets, "good evening sir," he adds afraid of the possibility that his district pastor will tell by the sound of his voice that something had happened.

"The Law!" pastor Lanre beams from the other end, "I know you are in church. You sound lifted!"

"Sir..." Lawrence begins his confession.

"You are always modest! I like it.
     "Anyway ehn... following Enyinnaya's suspension you will ehn handle the ministration on Friday. Lawrence, I know it's impromptu but my hands are tied. Past Phil would have taken it but she doesn't feel too good.
     "I'll forward the outline to your mail."

"Sir..." Lawrence scratches his scalp, willing the words to come out. No please, No.

"The Law! Radiate Glory Service is too small for you now. You should be preaching in stadiums," switching to a calmer voice, "and it's not like it's your first time. Remember, allow the Holy Spirit to do his work through you. This is the only way to cancel the noise."

"It's not like that Sir...I," Lawrence refrains from his intended confession. He relaxes into his chair and thanks Pastor Lanre for the opportunity.

"No, no, no. Thank God."

The line cuts.

Lawrence's phone chimes. There is a new email from Pastor Lanre as promised. Lawrence glances through the content. He rumbles, pleased to find that he is quite familiar with the topic: If God be for us.

There is another ding, a text message: So I wouldn't have to introduce myself when I need that help–Bassey.

Lawrence imaginarily reads the message the third time in Bassey's low-pitched voice. He curls his full lips in a smile at how dramatic she had been, and how her brown eyes had gotten warmer after his lie. He pinches his nose as he remembers the way he had stared, a little too much, to pick up details that haunted his mind.

The sway of her small hips as she sashayed in between her flower pots, her short manicured wine red fingernails as they brushed tenderly on the leaves cleaning dust with it, her pixie cut hair colored brown at the tip...

And then it sinks in. He hadn't cried frantically hours ago because he had lied. He had cried because he was unwilling to admit the reason for it.

He wants to see her again.

But not when he is in the middle of his sermon on Friday, suited up and microphone in hand, about to say may God help us in Jesus' name.