OPHELIA

Chapter 33: Prostitute Me!

The night was catastrophically long. Each time my eyes were caught in sleep the disturbing distribution of nude male pictures across my mind left my body hot. It was exactly two weeks after my deliverance with Pastor Man—two weeks of bliss and sound mind until this night.

By the break of dawn, I could no longer suppress it; the weight of a fly would send me to the streets for a random guy to…you know what.

I was torn between two desires, to please God and to please myself. Perhaps this was the tempering Jacob spoke of. I paced my room covering my mind with the blood of Jesus but its effect lasted only about 5 seconds. I glared at my door, wanting so desperately to run out. And for no particular reason, I opened my wardrobe.

Jonny the matchmaker’s jacket stared me in the eye, the fragrance of it tickled my nostrils as it’s texture brushed my cheeks as well as my memory travelling all the way to my soul and somewhere, I desired a little more recklessness; just enough to cool off my hormones.

The jacket reeked of Prince’s lavender scent and affirmed to me that this new life was impossible to live; my place was with Prince. It was rather fascinating how after all the idiot had done I had difficulties getting over him. It wasn’t a charm was it?

  I knew what I would do. I locked the door and flushed the key in the toilet—the density wouldn’t let it flush; so I rapped it in a bundle of toilet paper and it went down the drain. Dear body you won't make me do what I don’t want to do; let’s see how you will go out. I said to myself, lost somewhere in the toilet pot.

“Breakfast is ready.” Rachael said loudly. I startled.

“I’m not hungry.” I flopped on the bed.

Soon Ma’am veronica was at my door. “Open up…Every one must eat breakfast."

I didn’t think my plan through. How would I tell them I flushed the key in the toilet? 

“My door is stuck and won’t open… don’t worry, I’m fine…I lost the key.”

“Stuck? You should be more careful. Hold on let me get a spare.”

“No!” I blurted.

“What?”

“… Nothing.”

If I had known, I would have flushed the spare keys as well. Then what? My mind blurted. “Then we can remain holy.” I said with more doubt than faith.

The spare key couldn’t be found so a technician was called to come over and break the door.

After three hours of waiting, flushing the key didn’t feel like a bright idea especially since it didn’t solve the problem on ground. I didn’t know what to do with my mind. I had confessed every scripture I knew, prayed every prayer I knew but still nothing happened. I decided to distract myself with Pastor Man’s dairy. I took it from the wardrobe and sat by the door.

“Today, I have been on the streets of Bamenda ten days in a row. I got a job at a garage. I’m paid 200FRS daily because I know nothing about cars. The owner was kind enough to let me join his team and sleep in one of the old scrap cars—he was better to me than my house of fellowship. It took me so long to realize they were no good. I was stranded but none of them gave me any aid. I knew the Lord through a street evangelist and joined the nearest church to me but I guess they were more about business than the Lord’s work. 

Another day of eating bread and honey I begged from a store owner. The righteous are not supposed to beg for bread but I was desperate; too desperate that I doubted God. Perhaps if I was more patient I could have been blessed with a full meal. But God has promised me in a dream that he is sending a helper. So, I am grateful He gave me a car to sleep in. I wonder if my brother regrets it…"