It was the last day of camp. Most of us had our things packed in our rooms. The final activity was the closing mass and the after-party. I didn’t go back for confession after the last argument with Father Simone. The confessional was supposed to be a safe space; no one else knew about this side of me apart from Father Simone.
Funmi and I never spoke about what transpired between us at night. It was like we both became different people during the day like nothing ever happened. I couldn’t blame her, in a Christian University like Leviticus, we’d have been expelled in an instant and forced to come out before we had the chance to process it.
The party felt more like a family get-together, with a buffet by the side, and wine and beer all around; it was a bit funny how many Catholics could hold their alcohol, even I grew up seeing my parents unwinding with a bottle of wine and fried chicken at night. That was normal until I went to a protestant secondary school where everyone insisted that even Jesus Christ himself didn’t drink alcohol.
It’s weird how Christianity seemed so simple to me before I discovered I was queer, my sins were easier to confess, and it was easier to understand that I was not the sin when the church says ‘hate the sin and love the sinner’. Bisexuality isn’t an action; it was never a verb. Now that there’s no line to it; am I the sin or the sinner?
Everything’s much easier when you’re straight. It’s easy not to think about topics or certain people, easier not to flinch when the preacher openly condemns homosexuals to hell on the pulpit, or not care about the imprisonment of queer people in the country. I could be oblivious to whatever struggles my closeted friends would have. I didn’t have to worry about explaining myself to others or myself. It’s more acceptable to be a hopeless romantic when you’re gushing about a boy.
“Are you okay Erebi?” Christiana asked. She was wearing a black dress that was almost too short for church and too long for the club. The deep V-neck teased the swell of her breasts, and my eyes were drawn towards the exposed skin.
“I’m okay, I’m not just party crazy” I explained, finishing the can of beer handed to me. It wasn’t what I was used to but I managed.
“Me too. Mind if I join you?”
“Alright,” I moved over, making room for her on the couch.
We got another beer and then laughed at most of the dancers. She kept making up stories about random guys trying to ‘shoot their shots’ at some of the girls. I couldn’t tell why the conversation was so funny; I just kept giggling at the situation.
“Okay, that’s one too many beers Erebi, let’s call it a night hm?” I heard her say as she , helped me up. She guided me out of the hall and started towards the dorms.
“Let’s go to the chapel,” I slurred. Everything was still in place, I wasn’t dizzy, but there was a buzz in my veins and my feet felt light.
“We can go tomorrow morning, I’m pretty sure Jesus would want you to rest at the moment.”
“No!” I pouted. “I need to talk to Him right now! Let’s go!” I tugged her towards the chapel.
It was empty, with a few lights on. I ran to the altar with her, just staring at the crucifix that hung on the wall while my knees hit the ground. “Was I the only one you didn’t die for Jesus?”
The stained glasses were dark tonight, the statues of the saints looked solemn. Were they judging me right now? Were they wondering what part of hell would be best for me?
“Erebi-“
“No, no” I pressed a finger to her lips. “Shhh… can’t you see? I’m not supposed to be here.” I mumbled.
“...so pretty. How am I not supposed to like her, huh?” The question was directed at the crucifix.
“Okay, you need to sleep.”
“Can’t you see? How did my sanctuary turn into a prison?” I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. “Every time I walk in here now, I feel like a defendant in court with no lawyer to plead my case. How long would this continue? Why am I this way?”
“Erebi, it’s okay.” She pulled me to herself. “You are not alone okay?”
“But I’m going to hell, Jesus doesn’t love me anymore, I am the sin.” The sound of my voice was different; it sounded broken.
“No, you’re not. There’s nothing wrong with you, not a single thing wrong with you. You’re made in God’s image and likeness. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“But- “
“We’ll figure this out together okay? Tomorrow we’ll talk about this, but we have to get to the room before lights out, okay?”
I could feel my bones shake as I sniffed; her scent was the only thing I could focus on. She smelled like vanilla and a hint of citrus. She rubbed my back, whispering assuring words to me.
I was in her arms, at the altar in a seminary, lightning hadn’t struck. There was no chaos or guilt. No pain or shame came with this. It was in this chapel, this court where my verdict always remained guilty that a sliver of hope found its way to my heart.
THE END!
Author’s Note:
AND WE’RE DONE!!! I’m so excited! We’ve finally hit 100 subscribers!
*INTENSE SCREAMS!!!* Thank you all so much for the support.
Also, I joined a writing group it’s super fun too. Anyway, enjoy the final week in September go out, sip tea, and be artsy today!
Song of the Week:
This song has been ringing in my head for the past week INVITATION by Junny.