Bound

Chapter 2

Rebecca 

"To be honest, I don't think I've ever been this happy in a long time. I don't necessarily know the last time I was genuinely happy, or maybe I don't know what happiness actually means, but if this is it, then I wouldn't trade it for anything else", as each word came out of my mouth, I truly believed them. 

I've been talking to Pastor Emmanuel for the past three months, and I don't think I'll start lying to him in our final session. The real question is not if I believe what I tell him, it's if he believes it. 

Pastor Emmanuel is a stoic, incorrigible servant of the Lord, and for some reason, he knows how to detect a lie faster than the speed of sound, or maybe it's just his Psychology degree doing what it's supposed to do, then again, his connection with God could just be so strong that the almighty just whispers into his ears and tells him when an individual is lying to him. 

But this is not the time to focus on Pastor Emmanuel's super powers, I'm focused on me, and how I can finally say I'm happy, truly happy. 

The past year has been tough, I've been beaten with the Bible, dunked in a river, forced to fast for sixty days, caned with sticks dipped in holy water and anointing oil for that extra dose of spiritual goodness y'know.

Okay Becca, this isn't the time for jokes. 

With all of that I still had to write my final exams for my third year in the University, I barely passed, at least I've got two semesters left and I'm free of that annoying school. But I digress, this isn't the time to be focused on something as stupid as a degree in English. I'm focused on me and I'm finally happy and that's all that matters, or at least I think I'm happy, fine, I'll take what I can get.

"A girl like you doesn't have to feel the need to try and be happy, it should come to you naturally. Look at your life, you have a loving family, a family who stayed by your side through all the pain you went through, granted it was for your own good. They saved your soul from hell. They brought you back to Jesus, you're fine now. Be happy about that, you're finally a final year student, be happy about that, and remember, you have Jesus," Pastor Emmanuel said almost all these words in one breath. I bet this is what he tells most of the Parishioners, but I don't mind, they've all been saved, and look at me, I'm saved now, the devil's old news, I can smile again, my mother sees me as her daughter again, I can be her little Becca again, that's all I want.

My brothers never acknowledged the incident that brought me here. Then again, how many Nigerian families actually talk about these types of problems, or any problem at all?

But I'm grateful they were there at almost every prayer session, and I could see them from the middle of the prayer circle where I knelt down naked, I could see them praying for me, praying so I will not bring shame to myself or the family. I could hear their prayer points, loud and inescapable.

I still remember the tears flowing through Deji's eyes as he yelled "Demon, leave my sister". I loved him then and I love him still. It's tough to see your eldest brother cry, it's even tougher knowing you're the cause of the tears. 

Francis on the other hand, didn't want to do any of that. I still don't know why he was reluctant to join the weekly prayer circle, it could be the same reason he was the only one who wasn't fazed when the news broke out. He just didn't care. I loved him then and I love him still.

"I'm just being honest, I don't know if I know how to correctly define happiness, so it may not be accurate to say I'm truly happy, but I'm much better and I'm ready to settle for that." 

It's fun being honest like this, I was a liar for a long time, maybe the news breaking out was a good thing after all.

"Genuinely, I appreciate that you've been honest with me, and I can't wait to see your progress in church. After all, the whole point of these extra months of counselling therapy was to help your mind feel at peace again, or as close to peace as it can get. To be honest, you've made my job easy for me, you're a stellar patient."

"Thank you Pastor," I replied.

"If I'm correct, this is the end of our sessions and the beginning of a new journey for you, a clean journey for you."

"Yes Pastor."

"That old news is no longer. It's not you, never focus on it, focus on the you that is here now, that's what I want from you and for you".

"Well, it's the only thing I can do. I've got to try to be happy. I'm really grateful for these sessions, they've lifted me from a place of darkness and now I feel lighter."

"That's all I want to hear. I know this is our last session, but if there's anything you haven't discussed with me yet that you'd like to before it's officially over, you can do that now"

Should I tell him? I mean, it's just a dream, it has nothing to do with the issue. The news that broke out cannot be affiliated with this dream in any way. He doesn't need to know.

"Rebecca, what are you thinking of?", Pastor queried.

"It's nothing serious, I shouldn't waste your time any longer," I tried to avoid his question.

"Please, if it's got you worried even just a little, utilise this final session very well," he insisted.

I should just tell him. I shouldn't withhold anything from a man of God, also the framed picture of Jesus hanging above his head seemed to be staring deep into my soul. 

I wonder if Jesus can sense that I'm nervous, I'm sinking into this black leather seat, why is this seat so soft?

It makes no sense that a stupid dream makes me this nervous. Maybe it's because this dream has been coming back night after night, haunting the only precious moments of peace I get.

"There's this dream I've been having". I don't know why I'm saying this looking down, I've been making eye contact this entire time, looking straight into his eyes, occasionally, I look at the faded yellow wall of his office. The office that is simultaneously his actual workspace, he uses to utilise his psychology degree to the best of his ability, and the church-given space to serve all his pastoral duties.

The office with two bookshelves, one at his left and the other at his right. The bookshelf at his left is a huge dark brown bookshelf with six rows all stacked with books of faith. 

The larger books were placed at the bottom and as the rows ascended the books got smaller in size. The bookshelf is filled with only books of faith, all saying the same message I've heard all my life: 'you've gotta make heaven'.

The second bookshelf, at his right, it's a lot smaller, it is hung on the wall with just three rows. These books are all psychological texts, and honestly speaking, they seem to have more contextual variety in comparison to its sister shelf on the left.

"Well, what about this dream?" The shock of his words made me look straight up at him once again. 

His dark brown eyes and unreasonably long lashes for a man, made it hard to concentrate during the past counselling sessions, but he has this face, a face that tells he has dutifully cared for countless people in the past. People who come into the office looking at this face, the same face I see now.

The man who is always in a black suit and plain shirts, never wearing any ties, for whatever reason.

I wonder if those people call him Pastor like I do. I wonder if he's loved. 

I wonder if he wants us to ask him how he's doing too. 

I wonder if God really tells him when people are lying. 

I wonder if the other people that come into this office know he can detect lies quickly. 

Wait, what made me so sure he detects lies quickly?

"I awake in a forest of some sort, it's a little bit dark, only lit by the dim moonlight, but I can make out that it's a forest.

I stand up from the muddy, swampy forest floor and I notice a path right next to me.

I look around and the forest looks like a blur, it's also a little bit foggy. All the trees look the same, but I can hardly see, so I'm not exactly sure what it is I'm looking at."

"Is there anything else in this forest?" he asked.

"Well, as I said before, I can't really make out much of the forest and everything looks the same, until—" I stop abruptly. I don't really want to go on.

"Go on," he said. Sigh. 

"There's this wind blowing down the path beside me. But it's not just a gust of wind, there's someone in it, someone running, running fast."

"Is that all?"

"No, sir."

"Okay, continue. I'm listening."

"It looked like the person was running away from something. But I think it was more than that. It didn't look like a chase. No one's behind the person, and they're just running really fast, like the person knows the forest."

"What happens after you see this uh, dream-person running?"

"I run after the person. I just keep running on the same path trying to catch up to the person. I actually almost do—"

"Do what?" Why is he so eager?

"Catch up to them"

"So you became the thing the person was running away from?"

"I don't really know"

"Is that the end of the dream?"

"No, sir"

"Okay, go on," wow, he's really eager, huh?

"Well, the dream person runs faster than me and I end up losing them.

I stop running, and it feels like I didn't even move an inch from my starting point. I couldn't tell the difference between the spot I stopped at and the spot I had come from.

Everything looked the same, and to top it all off, I lost the person I was running after."

"Is that the end of the dream?"

"Yes, sir"

"What did the person running look like?"

"I couldn't really make out what they looked like. Honestly, it looked like an entity just running"

"Hmmmm." There was an awkward pause after he spoke. Oh, s**t, he's good, his superpowers are real. He knows I'm hiding something.

"It doesn't really take much to see that you're trying to find a new path for yourself. 

The dream is just trying to tell you that in the darkness of life you may have no idea where you are most of the time, but you shouldn't stop running. You should chase the person you want to become." Pastor Emmanuel interpreted that dream with so much confidence, you'd think he was a direct descendant of Joseph.

"Rebecca, don't forget that the easiest way to win that race is with Jesus by your side. Leave everybody and everything behind. Focus on him and he'll focus on you," Pastor Emmanuel advised.

"I'm really grateful for these sessions, Pastor Emmanuel. I know God will see all your work through. You've helped me greatly and I don't know who else could have seen me through like you did. I owe you a lot and I'm grateful to the most high God for bringing me to you." I hope he doesn't notice I'm evading the dream discourse.

"You're welcome Rebecca. I'm glad you're on the path of healing. All this is not of my own accord, but it's the Lord's will for you and I. So there's no need for thanks, it's my job."

"I guess I'll be on my way home now." It's always surprising to me how he genuinely doesn't care about gratitude or things like that. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen him portray emotion. Well, apart from the borderline stoicism and the occasional anger when he talks about the devil on the altar.

"Don't forget to tell your parents that I still need the final payment for the last session. And Rebecca, don't forget, the holy spirit is always with you. To teach you. To guide you, and to help you not make the decisions that your flesh would."

"I will tell them, and once again, thank you, Pastor."

I open the creaky wooden door of his office and step out of the room. The first thing I notice is the heat. It sucks leaving a room with proper air conditioning and then immediately getting hit by a vertigo causing heat wave.

But that thought only lasts for a moment. 

Seconds later, I'm thinking about Pastor Emmanuel, his really large office, and the intimidating desk he sits confidently behind. 

I'm sure he noticed I was lying when I said I didn't know who the dream-person was. 

God knows I couldn't tell him that I knew it was her.

I couldn't give him the opportunity to suggest extending our sessions for a few more weeks. As much as I am grateful to my family, Pastor Emmanuel and the church for all they've done to heal me from my impurities. I just don't have the strength to continue answering all those questions and playing his long games of introspection. 

I finally feel happy, in all honesty, I finally feel free.

I lied. I know I did. I just couldn't tell him I saw her.

She's the reason why the news broke out, even though she doesn't know she's the reason. Even though I haven't seen her since secondary school ended. She's the cause of it all.

I left that life behind with secondary school. I never spoke to her since then, yes she came to mind a few times, but only in the way you remember a random toothpaste commercial from when you were a child. It didn't mean anything. So why is she disturbing my dreams, Why now? Why over and over and over again? Every night!

God, please forgive me for lying. Forgive me for lying to your anointed disciple. I'm really sorry heavenly father, but I just can't let him know it was her….