Antonieta hadn’t talked to me about God for a while, but suddenly she wanted to take me to a pastor who spoke English.
“I have a message from God,” she told me. “I want this pastor to translate, so that you will understand better.” I wondered why she didn’t pray for the holy spirit to give me enlightenment, but I kept quiet.
The pastor turned out to be a woman, quite young, in a short black skirt and a lot of hairspray. Antonieta started speaking to her rapidly in Spanish, and I hardly understood what she was saying. One phrase stood out though; “espiritu de homosexualidad.” Oh shit, I thought. Here we go…
As Antonieta talked the pastor became increasingly uncomfortable. She fidgeted with her necklace, and couldn’t seem to decide where to look. Several times she tried to change the subject, but when Antonieta persisted, the pastor finally turned to me.
“Would you like to pray for us to drive out this, er, this… spirit?”
“Of homosexuality?” I prompted her, and she flinched. It’s mine, I wanted to scream at her. A gift, God gave to me.
Antonieta continued talking about this “movement,” how they made homosexuality seem like a great thing, so lot of young people got caught up in it. But really it was sinful and ended in destruction. Then she asked me a question, and the pastor translated for her.
“Are you a, er…”
“A lesbian?” I finished for her. I thought for a few moments before answering. “I believe in falling in love with people, not sexes.” The pastor started to translated, but Antonieta interrupted, asking me if I had ever been with a woman, or if I was with a woman now.
“No,” I said quietly. She seemed relieved. Then she asked me to say that I wouldn’t be a lesbian while I was in Costa Rica. I stared at her. What was I supposed to do, get a sexuality transplant? The pastor translated Antonieta’s request, and I glared at her. I understood perfectly. I just didn’t know what to do. Antonieta stared at me. The pastor stared at her crimson fingernails. I stared at the floor. I could hear a baby crying in the distance.
“I won’t be a practising lesbian while I’m here,” I whispered. I almost giggled at the absurdity of the term, practising, but then in the next moment I was holding my breath and struggling to stop the tears from spilling over my eyelids. Antonieta’s shoulders slumped in relief.
“What would your parents think if you were a lesbian?” She asked me.
“They’d support me.” Both women pursed their lips in an expression of pity and disgust. Antonieta went on to tell me that she knew I’d been visiting Mario and Alvaro, and she knew that they were gay and they were trying to corrupt me with their perverted ideas. The absurdity of the suggestion struck me. What on earth would two middle-aged gay men want to corrupt a teenaged girl for? Antonieta continued to talk animatedly about corruption and perversion for quite some time, before the pastor finally managed to steer the conversation away to firmer ground.
“Have you accepted Jesus Christ into your life?” I slumped back on the sofa and closed my eyes. She started to summarise the gospel for me.
“I was a Christian,” I interrupted. “But it didn’t really work out. I don’t believe everything in the bible.” Antonieta rolled her eyes heavenward.
“I don’t think the church you went to was really a Christian church,” the pastor said. “You can’t really have been a Christian. You thought you were, but you were deceived. Because if you were really a Christian, you’d still be Christian now!” she finished triumphantly. I groaned inwardly. It was about as much fun as having a debate with a brick wall. My words just bounced back, and I ended up banging my head in frustration. I felt exhausted.