Father catch me lest I fall II

” Getting lost in my imaginations is my favourite activity.”

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Diverting my gaze away from him, I try to focus my attention on something else. That offering basket looks interesting, maybe?
I can’t focus on the sermon anymore and I’m definitely sure that I don’t want to engage in a staring competition. So, I do what I like to do best when I need to pass time. I let my mind wander, over and beyond.

So, it is after service and I pack up my things and change into my flip flops. Pastor has no meeting with us today so after the normal end of service pleasantries exchange with some familiar faces, I head to my car.

He is there, tall, lean and handsome, a pair of dark shades obscuring his eyes, brazen skin that looks shiny and not burnt under the hot Lagos sun. He is posed like he is on the cover of forbes magazine, legs crossed as he leans slightly against a black car that I figured would fit his taste. He spots me and starts walking towards me.

Target locked and loaded, ready to fire.

I’ll pretend to be oblivious of his presence but of course, that’s not going to stop the conversation.

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t expecting a conversation”. His voice, I imagined to be have a baritone edge to it, laced with a bit of an accent. British or australian, I’m quite unsure.
Taking a sharp turn to look at the mister. I’m surprised to be greeted with a warm smile which calms me down a bit. The fiery woman in me was guilded up to take on the not so uncommon cockiness I’ve had to deal with before in times past.

We fall into an easy conversation as we grab some snacks from the tuckshop in the church premises. I imagine that we spoke for hours and ended up trading phone numbers. Late night texts and conversations would eventually become the highlight of my day and the return of the butterfly effects that have become very absent in my life. Surely, that feels good.

One random weekday, he stops by my office and we go grab lunch from my favourite restaurant. I introduce him to my favourite meal and watch him gobble it all down. I buy him more of it just to spoil him a little.

We spend a Saturday at the cinemas, watching the highest rated movies that just dropped. For that day, I decide that my pretty sunflower playsuit is ideal. The way the bright yellow contrasts with my dark ebony skin is surely a treat for the eyes. We watch movies till our eyes get sore and grab a meal, lie on the hood of his car, under the pretty twinkling stars.

Ah! Young love. Such a fortuitous affair that bears multifarious expressions. Like a dream, I’m getting everything I wanted.

We even attend services together and it seems like the whole church might be rooting for a marriage. I’d never oppose that.
During one weekend, his company organises a dinner and I’m his date, obviously. That black dress that I got on sale last year would finally be put to use. Adorned in a dapper navy blue suit, my favourite colour, he comes to pick me up and drives us to the venue. He introduces me to his bosses and colleagues and I have never felt happier. He looks so good in my eyes that I deem it rather impossible to keep my hands/eyes off him and I think that feeling is definitely mutual.
Exiting the party rather early, we set off to my apartment. All the way, loosing myself and my religion.

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“Oyinye! Oyinye!”I hear a fairly distant voice calling my name.
“Where is your mind Oyinye? It is time for offering and you’re up”.

It is Brother Kamsi. I detect the slight tone of annoyance in his voice.
It takes me a minute to regain consciousness of where I was.

Oh! Service is still on.

Shaken back to reality, I walk to the pulpit and with a rather hoarse voice, I lead the praises. I take one final look through the congregation, hoping to spot his face but, I don’t. A part of me felt disappointed, a little part felt sad. All the same, I sang.
“Thank you Jesus, for all your wonderful works.”

Lord, catch me.

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