Diary of a Mad First Lady

by Dishan Washington

  “How can you turn someone away from God?” Dawn asked.

  “Oh, you must have misunderstood me. I’m not turning you away from God; I’m simply saying that you are going to have to find another church to attend. God is everywhere, Dawn. Did you know that?” She was working my last nerve.

  “But I feel so safe here. I feel a connection that I can’t explain,” she said with her eyes beseeching to Darvin.

  I cast a warning glance at Darvin, daring him to accept or buy into what she was saying. “Dawn, the connection that you’re feeling is probably one left over by your sister. She may not be here, but I can attest that sometimes her evil spirit can still be felt,” I said, hoping to get my point across.

  I walked around to the back of my husband’s desk. “But I think I have the solution. I know just the place for you.” I pulled open a drawer that contained the Yellow Pages. I flipped through a few pages, until I found what I was looking for.

  “That’s it!” I said, trying to sound excited. “This will be the perfect church for you. The Path to Holiness Christian Church.” I turned to my husband. “Honey, don’t we know the pastor and his wife over there?” Without giving him time to answer, I continued. “I believe we do. That is a church where the Word is being preached, and I have no doubt that you will be just fine there. Oh, and feel safe, too. They have great ministries to offer, and it’s more suitable for someone like you.”

  “And what kind of someone am I, First Lady?” Dawn asked with indignation.

  For a brief moment, I could feel a twinge of guilt; but just as soon as it came, it was gone. I felt nothing toward this woman, and the sooner I could rid myself of her, the better I would feel. She didn’t want to start a fight with me, for she wouldn’t get near as far as her sister did.

  “You’re obviously someone who can’t recognize when someone is trying to help you. It is my strong suggestion, Dawn, that you take my help to avoid any further disturbance of your or my peace.” My glare was now more intense than it was when I first walked in.

  Darvin hadn’t said anything for a span, but decided now to break his silence.

  “Dawn, I think my wife is right. It might be best for you to go to another worship location. I don’t think you would grow spiritually here, and beyond that, the people at this church will never be able to fully embrace you because of your sister’s actions. It will be hard enough convincing everybody that you are her sister. I’m sure you saw the skepticism on people’s faces when you announced that.”

  Tears began to form in Dawn’s eyes. “I’m shocked, to say the least. I came here hoping to make right what my sister made wrong, and I’m being blamed for her sins. I’m being made to bear a cross that shouldn’t be mine to bear.” She stood from the leather executive chair that she had been sitting in, and cleared her throat. “Well, I appreciate your time and your willingness to accept my apology. I’ll be going now.” She grabbed the Coach purse that matched her soft yellow sundress, and headed toward the door. Before walking out, she turned and said, “Oh, and First Lady? I’ll look into that church. Thanks for your . . . help.” With that, Dawn disappeared to the other side of the door.

  Moments passed before Darvin broke the deafening silence in the room.

  “Do you think we handled this situation in the right way?”

  “What do you mean? Of course we did. What else were we supposed or expected to do?” I felt sweat appearing on the tip of my nose. “This woman waltzed into our church declaring that she was our worst nightmare’s twin sister, and we’re supposed to shower her with hugs and kisses as if she’s the prodigal daughter?” I was getting hotter by the second. I picked up a stack of papers from my husband’s inbox tray and begin to fan myself. “I hardly think that God is going to be displeased with the way we chose to deal with this. I think He understands.”

  I sat down in my husband’s oversized burgundy-leather chair behind an oversized, antique wooden desk. I felt myself becoming faint again.

  This time, I think it was the guilt of my conscience weighing in on me. I knew that I should have been a little more “Christian-like” with Dawn, but women like her tried the best Christian’s religion.

  “What if we’re wrong about her, baby? What if her heart really is right and she ends up being nothing like Daphne?” he asked as he sat down in the same seat Dawn had just occupied.

  All sorts of thoughts were swimming in my head. What if Darvin was right? What if God expected us to show an immeasurable amount of forgiveness, and we shunned His voice due to our own selfish reasons? More like my own selfish reasons.

  Once again, resentment rang louder than God’s voice, and it didn’t sound too bad to me.

  Chapter Four

  Dawn

  I was infuriated as I drove away from Mount Zion Baptist Church. It was bad enough that I had to endure being humiliated in front of the entire congregation, but even worse than that, Michelle Johnson had butchered my pride. With her always put-together persona, she had tried to intimidate me, and as much as I hated to admit it, she had succeeded. I wasn’t expecting her to fight back, and her actions caught me off guard.

  Earlier that morning, when I’d driven onto the grounds of Mount Zion, I was sure of my plan. I had managed to alter my look enough to be believed that I was “Daphne’s” identical twin sister; but after the way it played out, I realized that was the least of my problems. It was not going to go as smoothly as I thought. In my mind,

  I had seen my apology being accepted by the church, but, most importantly, Pastor Johnson. Once I achieved that, I would be on my way back into his life. Before long, I would be his wife, and not Michelle. It made me sick to my stomach to refer to her as his wife, because she didn’t deserve the role. She was as much qualified to be the wife of Pastor Darvin Johnson as Snoop Dogg was for the presidential office.

  My ringing cell phone brought me back into the present moment. I glanced at the caller ID and smiled to myself. My mother had been trying to contact me for several days now. I knew that eventually my avoiding her would probably lead to a massive search for me, and I didn’t have space for that in my plan. I answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, baby,” Mom said.

  “Hi, Mom,” I replied dryly.

  “That’s certainly not happiness to hear from me, dear.”

  Mother was already jumping up and down on my last nerve, and the conversation had only been going for ten seconds. “Mother, what is it that you want?”

  “Why can’t I call to check on my daughter? After the way you left here, it would only be right to be concerned.” She paused. “Baby, why don’t you consider coming back home? You have no business in Atlanta. Florida is your home. You hadn’t been out of that institution long enough to be out on your own again. You need to be close to family. Besides, what if they find out what you’re up to? What if those people hurt you?” Her voice started to crack.

  “What if I never see you again?”

  For a quick moment, I wanted to run the rest of the way to my house, purchase an airline ticket back to Ft. Lauderdale, and go home and run into my mother’s arms. It bothered me that she was so upset; but I was on a mission, and I couldn’t let anyone deter me from that, not even her.

  I made up in my mind a long time ago that I would not end up like my mother. She was a good woman, but she had nothing to show for it. My father walked out on us when I was twelve years old, and she never picked up the pieces. Up until that point, I thought my father was a superhero. He was always supportive of us, and made it his business to make sure we never went without anything, but one job layoff changed our entire lives.

  Soon after losing his job, he became an alcoholic and would roam the streets all night. I watched my mother leave my brother and I many nights to search the corners for my dad. Each time she would drag him back into the house a few hours later, clean him up, and nurse him back to health. She would always tell us that it was better to have him home drunk than to not have him home at all
.

  Finally, one day, he left for a trip to the store, and that trip turned into an eternal vacation. I never saw him again. Truth is, my father left a long time before he left and never came back. Nonetheless, my mother felt she had let us down, and slowly her heart turned to iron, and the only thing she concerned herself with was making sure our needs were provided.

  She did the best she could trying to be the mother and the father, but no matter what people might say, you can’t be both. There’s no substitution for a man. She could never give me the life I felt I deserved. So, it was paramount that I didn’t fall into the same pattern. God forbid any man leave me, which was why I had to make sure I chose a good man. A man that would love me all the days of my life. A man who would not walk out on me and my kids. A man like Darvin Johnson.

  Listening to my mother’s plea made me curse the day I told her of my plans and reason for moving back to Atlanta.

  “Mom, I’m sorry that I’ve had you worried, but trust me; I’m fine. All is well. Pastor and First Lady Johnson, along with their church family, have accepted the apology, and we’ve moved on to reconciling.” I hoped that my chipper tone was enough to convince my mother. I was wrong.

  “Baby, but it’s just not right. You have to think of someone other than yourself. I know you have your reasons for being there, but, baby, you’ve got to know that God ain’t pleased. What are you gonna do when you reap what you’ve sown? Child, the tables will turn, and you’re going to wish that you’d thought better of what you’re trying to do.”

  Sometimes I wondered whose child I was. I never knew my father, but it was in times like these that I wondered if I knew my mother. She had no backbone and obviously didn’t know the definition of persistence.

  I concluded that this conversation wasn’t going anywhere. “Mother, we’re going to have to discuss this later. I’ve been busy trying to get settled and today I got up early for church. I’m tired. I’ll have to call you back later.” Before she had the opportunity to protest, I closed my pink RAZR flip phone.

  I drove up to my driveway, clicked the button that opened and closed the massive gates, pulled into the garage, and turned off the ignition of my blue BMW 750 Li.

  The cost of living in Florida was astronomical compared to the suburbs of Atlanta, and three months ago, I didn’t think that I would ever be able to make Atlanta my permanent residence again. But I was here to stay. Nothing would stop me. My brilliant plan, which would assure me of my dreams, was already working.

  Granted, I’d had somewhat of a minor setback with Michelle, but she could be handled. Before long, I would be where I belonged—in the arms of Pastor Darvin Johnson. This time, I wasn’t going to stop until I reached my destination. And my final stop would be in the role of Darvin’s wife and the First Lady of Mount Zion Baptist Church.

  The excitement of that thought caused me to practically jump out my car and run into my house, where I kicked off my three-inch white sandals and fell back onto my couch. I smiled as I looked at the dry-erase board that I’d hung on the wall in the kitchen next to the refrigerator, and I made a mental note to cross out the first step to becoming Darvin Johnson’s wife. It was now time for me to get to work on step number two.

  Glee filled my heart because I could smell the fragrance of victory and it hadn’t even come yet. One thing I’d learned from growing up in church was that you didn’t have to wait until the battle was won, but you could shout right now. And that is what I did. I stood up and gave God praise for giving me the luminous mind that He did. Because it was nobody but Him who’d spoken to me this plan, and the least I could do was obey. Some would classify me as crazy for even thinking that God would outline a plan to me that would take another woman’s husband—but He did.

  Although the homes on my street were guarded by gates, the view of each home was obtainable from certain rooms in my house. I ran to an upstairs bedroom to see if the Johnsons had made it home. It was perfect timing. Their armor bearers were helping them into the house, and Michelle was slowly moving toward the front door. Looking at her, I was quickly reminded that I had another problem.

  Before returning to Atlanta, an inside source from the church had kept me abreast of all the happenings of the Johnsons. Just before I was released, I received the letter that drove me back to crazy land. The letter informed me that Michelle was expecting. Now, watching her from across the street, I could see the tiny bulge in her stomach that was peeking out from under her shirt. That tramp was pregnant with my man’s baby.

  I was suddenly outraged and wanted nothing more than to go and push her down onto the concrete driveway. But as soon as the thought came, I dismissed it, because her pregnancy may actually work to my benefit. Yes, I would use her pregnancy to my advantage, and by the time I was through, she wouldn’t know what hit her.

  Feeling a slight sense of achievement, I slipped out of my yellow sundress right in the middle of the guest bedroom, and I let it pool around my feet. I stepped over it and headed to my bathroom to take a long soak in some Sun-Ripened bath bubbles while I focused on my next course of action.

  Going into the bathroom, I glanced at the picture of Darvin sitting on my nightstand. He was so handsome and so innocent. I knew after leaving him today that I’d left him thinking. I always had that effect on people, especially him.

  I picked up the picture frame and kissed the image of the man who was soon going to be mine. If I stayed on course, by this time next year, the AJC would be doing an article on me and my husband. I could imagine the headline in bold letters:

  FLORIDA NATIVE WEDS RENOWNED PASTOR DARVIN JOHNSON.

  I placed the picture back into its place, and caught a glimpse of the worn piece of paper that first held my plan before I transferred it to the dry-erase board in the kitchen. One day, I would share with our children how God told me exactly what to do to get their father to see we were meant to be together.

  I could only pray that they would be as blessed.

  The little paper was crinkled to say the least, but I unfolded it and looked at my first two steps. 1. Introduce myself as Dawn Carlton; 2. Befriend First Lady Johnson . . . again.

  Starting off, my plan looked simple. But it wasn’t. For the rest of my life, I was going to have to remind myself every day that I was no longer Daphne Carlton, the person that I was born as, but Dawn Carlton. Not only that, but I had to keep what little family I had away from Atlanta. Since no one understood how important this was to me, they were sure to sabotage everything that I was working so hard for. Many people didn’t get the option to start all over in life, but I’d created my own destiny.

  It had been a little easier that I’d imagined convincing Darvin, Michelle, and the church that I was my own twin. Oh, and I couldn’t leave out my little informant that I had been paying generously to give me whatever information I needed—when I needed it.

  After leaving town as Daphne, I served my two years in that god-awful hell hole. When I first arrived, I thought all hope was lost. But after hearing my story one day, my roommate reminded me that I could have easily been sentenced to do some jail time. That’s when I realized that God had looked out for me and was giving me this opportunity to regroup.

  An investment I made with an old friend and business associate, Steven Chiles, just prior to being locked away, materialized and produced a sizeable return. Oh, what a happy day it was when Steven called me and told me the good news. My third stop after being released was to his office to pick up my check. The first was home to change into some decent clothes, and the second was at Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. God knows I had an obsession with glazed doughnuts. So, I picked up the check, cashed in, and was now sitting in a very comfortable financial position. I could pretty much buy anything I wanted—including happiness.

  By the time this was over, everyone but Michelle was going to love me.

  Chapter Five

  Michelle

  It had been a very long day, and the tranquility that I’d experienced when th
e day began had long been replaced with fatigue, stress, and anxiety.

  Dawn Carlton’s appearance had shifted my mood for the entire day, and all I wanted to do was get inside of my house and go to bed.

  Chanice, who decided to ride home with me today, noticed everything. She said, “First Lady, would you like for us to order dinner in for you? I know that you normally cook on Sundays, but I think it will be best if you ordered out today.”

  I continued to look out of the window as we were driving down our street, hoping to find my thoughts on one of the street signs. The signs failed to yield any answers to the many questions running rapidly through my mind.

  Why was Dawn Carlton really here?

  “First Lady?” Chanice repeated. “Do you . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as I put my hand up to interrupt the rest of her statement. I didn’t want to be asked any more questions. I had enough of my own. I turned to face Chanice, who was sitting in the back of my Navigator.

  “I’ll be fine.” I looked at Twylah, who was driving, and said, “You guys are great, and I don’t want you to think that I’m being unappreciative of what you’re trying to do, but I just want to get into my own space and sort through the events of the day.” Exhausted by that one statement, I turned back around to continue the search for answers outside of the window.

  As we pulled into our driveway, I looked at the house across the street. It had been for sale for some time now, but the FOR SALE sign had been taken down earlier in the week. I made a mental note to introduce myself to our new neighbors, something that was often unheard of anymore.

  We drove through the gates that led to my own safe haven, and no sooner than the automatic locks could free me from my current prison, I was opening the door. Darvin, who pulled right behind us in his black Mercedes S550, saw the swiftness in me trying to get out of the truck, and rushed to my side to help me out. I glanced quickly into his eyes and pleaded with him not to ask the same question people had been asking me since I’d left the church. I was fine, and would be better if I could just get to my king-sized bed, dive underneath the same covers that had engulfed me earlier that morning, and drift away into an ocean of deep sleep, leaving all of my troubles behind.