The Club Of God-Fearing Men – 11

He had taken about five paces into the night when he realised what he had done.
The woman he had met earlier had been shaking, almost unstable on her feet. Her skin felt like hot coal when he touched it and despite her stubbornness he knew she wasn’t fine.
No matter how he felt about being used, he could not blindly walk away from a possibly sick woman and her equally sick daughters; his ego was not that inflated.
With a sigh, he turned back to the house, hating himself for giving in yet unable to not.
He knocked lightly.
“Abbey, it’s me.” He spoke, against the door.
When the door opened, she was standing there, looking smaller than he remembered.
He didn’t say a word as he stepped across the threshold and took her n his arms. She didn’t resist, instead she folded into him, like it was meant to be.
They stood that way for some minutes; he, listening to the slow beats of her heart against his chest, she, so still it was almost like she had fallen asleep against him. He couldn’t recall the last time he had held a woman that way without other intentions.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, wondering even as the words left his mouth, why he was sorry.
She didn’t respond and he pulled back, wanting to see her face.
“Don’t look at me,” she protested, twisting away her face.
“Why not?”
“I…er…” she retreated from him then, turning to the living room.
“You’re crying?” it was a question because he couldn’t tell whether the wetness he glimpsed in her eyes were truly tears.
“Of course not. I just…washed my face,” she was out of his reach now and he found he missed the warmth of her body against his.
“Prove it. Look at me.”
“Look Genesis, this is not a game…I said I am not…argh!” she groaned in surprise as he spun her to face him. “Are…you crazy? You almost broke my neck!”
“You are crying,” he ignored her protests. “Why?”
“Why? Because that’s what women know how to do best!” her voice was hoarse. “Their stupid eyes betray them even when they don’t want to cry!” she stormed away from him, heading for the dining table.
“Or maybe they need to cry because there’s so much bottled up inside,” he said, following closely behind her.
“Ha. Psychologist Genesis,” her face was streaming with tears now as she gripped the back of one of the leather dining chairs.
“Stop it. Tell me what’s eating you.”
“You wanna know?” she sat now, her chin in her hand.
“Yes, I do,” he replied, even though he heard the sarcasm in her voice.
She sighed. “Tonight made me realise…I don’t have anybody. Do you know how many options I had to call tonight? One, my parents and they are in Akure, two, my mother-in-law who doesn’t speak to me even though she stays right here in Lagos. Three, my only real friend who has her life, her husband and kids…they’re all on vacation in some stupid island. Four, my neighbor…travelled for a burial. Five, my pastor, lives on the Island. See, that’s about how many people I know to call on short notice. If I was dying…there’d be no one to be there…”
“Abbey don’t…”
“Shut up. You wanted to know what was wrong with me, yeah? Don’t interrupt me with Nigerian clichés. Just listen.”
“Yes ma,” a smile tugged at the side of his lips.
“Do you know why you’re here?” she continued without waiting for him to respond, “I prayed you here. I was scared…I was desperate when I realised there was no one. Then I said a small prayer, asking God to send someone, anyone. Just a phone call was all I needed…that’s what I told God. And barely five minutes later, you called. That’s why I didn’t care who was calling, I just knew whoever it was, was the answer to my prayer. See…my babies, they’re all I’ve got. I can’t…lose any more loved ones. Not my daughters. It would kill me. When Star said she was afraid she wouldn’t wake up, it was the exact way I felt when I saw how hot she was. She was crying, complaining about pains everywhere and I wished I could take her anguish and make it mine. And then this crazy thought dropped in my mind. What if this was it? What if she just died?” there was a small pause then she looked up. “Know what’s funny? I couldn’t even think up any scripture to counter that devilish thought. Me, the Bible guru, the counselor, couldn’t begin to counsel herself when challenges stared her in the face.”
Genesis had never been so taken in by a story like this. At the mention of ‘I prayed you here’, he was supposed to flee because he didn’t believe things like that. Because it wasn’t logical. Because God, whoever He was, didn’t answer prayers until it was too late, until something bad had happened.
Perhaps he was losing it. To sit and listen to this woman talk about scripture and prayer and challenges, without protesting. Worse, he believed her. Something deep in him could not refute, no matter how hard he tried the fact that things had happened as she said they had, that God had used him as the errand boy, that he was the answer to her prayers. His mind rebelled at the possibility of that, but something stronger than his mind embraced the thought.
“It was Amber who gave me strength, you know. She came to us and said, ‘Star, Jesus said we are healed by the strokes of cane He was flogged. Don’t worry, you are healed’ and then I began to laugh at myself. I taught her that. Once I was teaching them something and she asked what stripes meant and the only thing that came to mind at the moment was strokes of cane. Then a scripture popped up in my head right then, how God uses the foolish things of this world to confound the wise. You know it, yeah?”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He knew it, not because he had read it in the Bible himself but because his mother had quoted it a dozen times whenever he tried to logically dissect her faith.
“That’s when I got the idea to ask God for help. I asked him to send someone to help me,” she smiled at him now. “And here you are.”
He was involuntarily silent. His mouth could not form the words that rang in his head. He wanted to tell her that he had made the call, that he had been thinking about her and called her. That God had absolutely nothing to do with that. That it was natural for human beings to attribute every single thing to a higher being but what if it was not? What if things happened just because?
What if he hadn’t been thinking about her? Then he wouldn’t have called her. And then would she be telling this story now? Would she be thanking God for…nothing?
“I think…” she continued, “even if it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else. I don’t know…that’s just how God works. He wouldn’t leave me stranded.”
He glanced sharply at her, wondering if she had read his mind.
“So, thank you. Again. Thank God for you.”
This time he stood, uncomfortable. He felt like his butt was on fire.
“It’s late…maybe I should leave. The girls are sleeping, they would be…”
“Genesis,” there was a pleading in her voice as she stood with him. She was tall enough; the top of her head was above his chin. “Can you…uh…do me one more favour, please.”
Mentally, he rolled his eyes. “What now?”
“I…really don’t…want to bealonetonightpleasestay,” she said the words in a rush that they came out sounding like mashed potatoes.
And yet, he heard every word.
To Be Continued…
Mimi A.