Forgetting the worst thing I ever did

“Why do you hate him so bad?”

“He reminded me of the worst thing I ever did.”

“What’s the worst thing you ever did?”

“Do you want to take his place?”

“Ah noo! I’m sorry. What was I thinking?”

“You tell me”

“That’s not what I mean”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, but you were going to tell me why you hate him so bad.”

“He insisted I tell him all the details. I told him I already confessed everything to God but he would not let me be. I must make restitution, he insisted. I must come clean on the sordid affair. Or my son would not recover from his sickness, he threatened further, as if he is God.”

“What would you have preferred?”

“Why couldn’t he be as his neighbour?”

“His neighbour?”

“Yes, his neighbour”

“Why his neighbour?”

“They lived in the same compound. And I often saw them together. The same offense, for which he would not let me be, was committed by the lady his neighbour met last week.”

“What did his neighbour do to the lady he met last week?”

“Her son had suddenly taken ill and the signs were very bad. He faced imminent death. She carried him in her hands, confused and weeping profusely. She wondered if his illness had anything to do with her miseducation in the company of those who convinced her that if it felt right, it meant it was right, during her younger years. Rather than interrogate her, he lifted up the boy from her arms, took him to his apartment and placed him on his bed. Then he prayed fervently for the boy to be revived. Eventually the child recovered and he was handed over to his mother.”

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