Bless me Father, I have Sinned...

Coming out pt 1

The first person to know was a priest, Father Simone. He was a lean man, with wrinkles that lined his features. He looked frail with a steel gaze and a gentle voice that could move a saint to repentance.

It was the Christmas break of my second year at Leviticus University. There's a thing to be said about the cognitive dissonance and culture shock that happens when two different denominations clash in your brain and the idea of organized religion leaves you weary and spent.

I remember sitting amidst the group of girls for our weekly meditation; the old traditional prayers, universal, the same. We were told we were the true church, established by Christ himself. I still believe it. 

I remember going to the confessional. I knelt, tears running down my face.

“I don't want to be here,” I told him,  “I honestly don't feel sorry for anything,” 

He says, “Just go on; we will ask for grace from our Mother Mary to help you.” 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I start, “I can't remember the last time I went for confession, eight months, I guess?” I confessed the mild sins first; the insult I threw at my siblings, the small meat and plantain I took from the frying pan, the prayers I forgot to say, and the mass I didn’t attend. Then I told him about the night Funmi and I lay on my bed together. One gist led to another till we were the only ones awake in the room.

It was not a big deal, girls shared a bed in hostels, and girls did so nudely or semi-nude. What most didn't do was caress your neck with their fingers. Or share kisses in the dark. Or fumble with your boobs and make you tremble beneath them. 

“It happened a couple of times,” I said to Father Simone. “Father…I think I'm bisexual.”

There was a pause. The small room suddenly felt smaller; the air felt more humid and sweat trickled down my spine. Usually, a confession made me feel lighter; my sins were absolved, and I was free. But the knot in my chest was a first, the clammy hands and terrible silence from the other side were unexpected. 

“Father, I'm afraid,” I continued. “I don't know what to do...does God hate me? I haven't been able to pray...and-.”

“No, Our Lord is a merciful God.” He sighed, his voice sounded strained like he was reciting from some manual given to him from the seminary. “But you must be willing to repent and turn away from sin. You need to have self-control over the flesh, this is how the devil uses God's people. He tempts them with mortal sins.  Don't you know that once you start it never stops? it becomes a heavy cross to bear.  But like our father, St. Jose-Maria, would say, our struggles will make us stronger, Do not lose hope, a saint refuses to give up.”

My penance was usually a couple of Hail Marys and the Lord’s Prayer but that day it was Psalm 51 and a novena to St. Rita. At that moment, it wasn’t getting any worse, but I think it worked. 

The next few weeks were blissful. I spent my days between church and home. I attended mass every morning, said my rosary daily, and spent an hour every day at the blessed sacrament and it worked. I suppose this sin happened because I was not praying enough, I let my flesh guide me instead of dwelling more in God’s presence. I know better now. There was nothing more peaceful than knowing the worst had come and gone. I had been intimate with a girl, but the Lord, in His infinite mercy, had forgiven me. I wasn’t going to bring shame to my family anymore; neither would I rot in the pit of hell as the devil would want. I would have children and marry a good Catholic man. 

The Catholic Youth Organization of my parish was organizing the annual bible study camp, and this year I joined the committee. For weeks preceding the start of the camp, it was all I could talk about. My parents were very supportive of my involvement. My mother’s worry about my lack of faith was finally at ease. I still kept Father Simone updated during confessions; he was proud of my progress, and he mentioned something about following the light. 

Things were fine, at least, until Christiana joined the youth society. She was fair-skinned, with slender limbs and a lithe frame. Her eyes were a tender shade of honey, bold as she held the gaze of whoever she spoke to. Something about her voice pulled me in the first time- She was reviewing the inventory list with Chidi when I first heard it.  “Sheets, food, three buses, fifty participants, and the choir confirmed they’re set to go, we’ve agreed on the schedule for the volunteers…” she rattled off words from her notepad. Such an impassioned paragraph sounded like a melody.

I blinked my thoughts back. I wasn’t backsliding, Christiana was pretty, it was just me admiring the Lord’s work. Right? 

In formation classes, Sister Maryanne would speak to us on the topic of lust. She explained that having a crush on someone wasn’t a sin, as it was customary to have feelings for people. However, I think she meant a heteronormative kind of crush. 

“It’s normal to yearn for someone, it’s part of puberty, but when you act on it, that’s when it becomes a sin.”  She explained, eyes boring directly into mine, “The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, you must learn to control your flesh! You cannot be like the girls in the world, consumed by their emotions and allowing their bodies to control them.”

This was probably the temptation Father Simone was talking about, I would not yield. 

It was easy to ignore the butterflies in my stomach whenever we worked together before camp started. I could run back home and pretend nothing had happened, I could forget to reply to her texts, claiming I was too tired to respond. I was gradually getting the hang of it until camp started with the both of us sharing a room. 

How was this supposed to work? 

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Authors Note:

Hi People! I’m here with fiction! I worked on this story a while ago and figured it was time to share it with the world. I’ll be updating new chapters every Tuesday for the month of September so if you like what you see subscribe for new chapters and Let me know what you think in the comments!

Song of the Week:

Our Main Character is such a baobei so the song of the week is Angel by Halle