Yes, those were the questions that I intended to raise this morning, and by the look on his face, I’d done my job.
I had learned that pastors loved the feeling of validation; and from now on, every Sunday, I would be Darvin’s biggest fan.
Chapter Eighteen
Michelle
I cringed when I saw Dawn waltz into the church looking like a two-bit ho in that candy apple red suit—though I must admit it looked deliciously fantastic on her, but highly inappropriate for church. Interestingly enough, I wouldn’t have expected that from her, but would if it had been Daphne. They were so much alike it was ridiculous.
Little did she know, but during the service, I caught her watching Darvin. It was that same kind of smitten look that Daphne used to have on her face. It was that sick, fatal attraction look. I shivered. Something was not right with that woman. I don’t care if her temperament was slightly different than that of her sister, I wasn’t taking any chances. It was time for a change to come, and I wasn’t going to wait on it.
After tiring from watching Dawn pretend to be endowed with the Holy Ghost, I got out of my seat and headed straight for her. I went over to her and all but demanded that she get up off the floor. She had some nerve. And she had caught me on the wrong day. My pregnancy hormones at seven months were really kicking in and that “mean streak” my grandmother told me I would get, I had it.
Dawn finally got up, but it wasn’t until after I’d walked away. One of the ushers assisted her back to her seat, and I almost shot daggers at her when I saw the smirk on her face. I could hardly wait until service was over because I planned to tell her a piece of my mind, woman to woman.
I kept watching Dawn out of the corner of my eye as she waited in the line to speak to Darvin. I made a mental note that beginning next Sunday, Darvin and I would stand together and greet parishioners. I didn’t go out to greet often because my feet were normally swollen, but today and any other day that Dawn was there, I didn’t care if my feet were as big as watermelons.
She was not about to do to me what her sister had done to me, my family, or my church.
Instead of waiting until next Sunday to put my new rule in place, I decided that it would start today. I sashayed over to where Darvin was standing, and just as she approached him with her little bony hand extended, I walked up to him and locked arms with him.
Darvin had been so sweet since we’d worked through our issues with his almost-affair, and true to form, he leaned down and kissed me on the lips.
I’m sure Dawn thought that we were trying to prove something to her, but he and I decided we would greet each other with a kiss any time we’d been out of each other’s presence.
I savored the sweet kiss that he planted on my lips, and had we not been in the church, I would have added a little more spice to it. However, it didn’t stop me from rubbing it in her face. Just in case she had any ulterior motives, she would know that we were not to be tampered with. I’d put up with drama for long enough. It was my turn to be happy again.
“Why, Pastor,” Dawn said as she fanned herself, “I didn’t know you had it in you. You better not let too many women see you lay a kiss on First Lady like that. Some women might feel a little left out.”
“Well, First Lady is the type of woman that will make you do things like that,” he said as he smiled down at me. He then walked away. I could have broken out into a cheer. It was as if he knew she was up to no good.
When he was out of listening distance, she said, “Mmm. If only we could all just be First Lady.”
I knew in my heart of hearts that there was something behind what she’d just said, but I was no longer bound by fear.
“Sister Carlton?”
“No offense, First Lady, but I actually dislike when people refer to me as their sister when I’m not,” she said. “However, I’ll make an exception for you,” she said.
“Please, by all means, don’t let me offend you.” I stepped closer to her to further drive in the point I was about to make. “Listen, Dawn Carlton. I have seen many like your kind: home wreckers. Women like you who lust after the pastor for all sorts of selfish reasons, but never stop to think about how your actions may affect their homes and loved ones. No, all you can see is the powerful man, the fame, the fortune, the expensive cars, and the lifestyle of the rich and famous.
“Well, let me tell you something, sweetie. This life ain’t what it looks like sometimes. It’s more than just being noticed and known when you walk into a local restaurant or store. It’s more than just having people inflate your ego by calling you First Lady. This position requires hard work, spiritual dedication, a high level of tolerance and long-suffering, the ability to spiritually uphold your husband while dealing with women like you who just want his last name and not his virtues and vices, among many other things that you have no clue about. So, the next time you think you might want to be me . . . think again. Ask your sister, Daphne; she’ll tell you.”
By the time I’d gotten that entire statement out, I was nearly out of breath. I don’t know if it was the amount of words or how fast I’d said them.
My temper was rising, and the blood was boiling in my veins. I was sick of women like Dawn Carlton always making those insensitive comments and thinking that being the first lady was a piece of cake. I was sick of people telling me what they would do if they were the first lady or the pastor’s wife. You don’t know what you’ll do until you’re in another person’s shoes.
“My goodness, First Lady. Aren’t we a little on the touchy side today?”
Dawn batted her eyelashes really fast. I could tell that she was really upset, and was also trying to see how many people had heard me diss her. But I didn’t give a rat’s butt who heard me or what she thought. It was time for my feelings to matter for a change.
“Dawn, you haven’t seen me on the touchy side, and you better start praying now that you don’t ever see it. My wrath is not one that you want to experience, because if I have to step out of my role and deal with you woman to woman, I will—with no hesitation.” I’m sure my eyes were as red as fire, as they normally were when I got really upset. When I got upset, really upset, I couldn’t mask it.
“For a Christian, you do know how to speak some very threatening words.” She smirked. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. You’re right. Maybe I was a little out of line for my comment, but there is no need to get defensive. After all, he is going home with you, right?”
I don’t know why I got the feeling that was a sarcastic question, and for whatever reason, I envisioned myself taking off my earrings, my Jack McConnell hat, and beating her tail like Sophia beat Harpo in The Color Purple. But I dismissed that thought. “You’re right, Dawn. He’s going home with me.”
“So, if you know that, why do these types of women you’re referring to bother you so? I’m sure you’re going to be dealing with that for the rest of your life, and I guess I have to wonder if you’re going to react that way to everyone you’re seemingly intimidated by.”
“You know? You and your sister are so much alike. I don’t know why either of you think that you are someone to be intimidated by. For the life of me, I just can’t understand that.” I beckoned for Chanice to come over and bring my flats because my feet were hurting, but I refused to end the conversation like this. I also watched as, one by one, the other members who waited in line to talk to me and no doubt ask about the baby, walked away. I would have to speak with them next Sunday. The business at hand was more important.
I took the shoes from Chanice and replaced the heels with the flats. I said my thanks to Chanice in a way that let her know she could give me a few more minutes alone with Dawn.
“That’s the thing that gets me about women like you. You’re so sure that we are intimidated by you, and you dote on that fact so that you can try to use that against us. Believe it or not, Dawn, we pastors’ wives have conversations about females like you, but we hardly waste our time being intimidated,” I lied. “We co
ncentrate more on how to teach you that it’s in your best interest to find your own man and leave ours alone.” I stopped talking long enough to wave at a little girl who had been dying to speak to me. “Do you better understand now the message that I’m trying to relay to you?”
Dawn rolled her eyes so hard that I could have sworn they would be rolling around on the floor at any second. Finally, she responded. “Madame First Lady, I appreciate your trying to educate me, if you will, on the do’s and don’ts of ‘women like me.’ However, I feel that I must tell you that I’ve already been raised one time by a woman who is a lady. I’ve already been trained on how to get a man, and I’ve never had any problems at all getting any man that I want. Any man I want.
“And I also feel the need to tell you that you’re right about my sister and I being a lot alike. Matter of fact, we are practically the same person, so there’s no need for you to keep referencing her. Lastly, you don’t need to place your concern with me. Because let’s face it, we’re both grown women with no need to hurl insults at the other. You just stick to your job as First Lady of Mount Zion Baptist Church, and I’ll stick to mine.”
She stepped closer. “Because I am going to become a very active member of this church the same way my sister was. And if you allow me to make your life a living hell, then that’s your business. I’m going to enjoy mine.”
With that, she walked off in the direction of a tall, handsome man who had noticeably been watching us for some time. Maybe she would set her eyes on him and get them off Darvin. I would surely hate to have to pluck them out.
I spoke to a couple of other members who were still lingering in the foyer before going to my office.
Dawn Carlton was mutilating my last nerve. I was growing weary by the day, rolling over, taking whatever she dished out, when she dished it out, as I did with her sister. It was high time for me not to allow another person to waltz into my life, create chaos, and walk away as if they’d done nothing. I was sick of her. She needed to see that this game she was playing was being played on my court. If she played by the rules, praise God. If she didn’t, may God be with her.
Darvin and I drove home in bliss. I was acting as if nothing had happened today at church. I could tell he appreciated me not bringing up the situation. Most of our conversations now included ways to make our marriage better, not worse. That was another reason I refused to allow Dawn Carlton to disturb my peace. Not everything about my life was in order, but the areas in which it was, would stay that way.
We drove into the valet area of the Oceanaire on Peachtree Street, where we were having lunch. The Oceanaire was one of our favorite restaurants in Atlanta. It was the closest thing to being at a Florida eatery, getting fresh seafood. We left the car with the attendant and walked into the restaurant, where we were greeted by the manager, who knew us by name. He took us to our regular table in the back and took our drink orders. I got my usual Shirley Temple, and Darvin got his usual fresh squeezed lemonade. The Oceanaire was not only known for their food, but the restaurant itself was beautiful, and they had impeccable service.
Darvin and I made small talk about ministry, but then shifted the conversation to the baby.
“Sweetie, how are you feeling today?” he lovingly asked.
“I couldn’t feel better. The baby is kicking more than usual, making me a little tired, but nonetheless, all is well.”
Conversation about the baby always made me smile. Anyone who knew me knew I was anxiously anticipating the baby’s arrival.
“So, you ready to talk about the nursery?” I asked. Darvin always avoided that topic, leaving me to try to figure out the theme on my own.
“Well, I was thinking a nursery with a basketball theme would be good.”
He laughed after that statement.
I playfully hit him on the arm. “And what makes you so sure that the baby is going to be a boy?” I asked. He’d been crossing his fingers, his legs, and anything else he could cross in hopes for a boy. Each time we’d gone to the doctor to find out the sex, the baby had gone into a position where the doctor couldn’t determine it. We’d done everything that we knew to do to get the baby to turn so we could see, but none of it had worked.
“I just feel it in my spirit,” he said.
I smirked. “Yeah, whatever. You are going to be real disappointed when they say, ‘Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, you’re the new parents of a baby girl!’ ” I laughed at the thought of that.
“We will see, Mrs. Johnson.” The smile on his face was priceless. I couldn’t wait to make him a dad.
We continued to share moments of continuous laughter and bliss that lingered on longer than normal, and allowed ourselves to enjoy just being with each other. With everything that had gone on, it was good to just unwind and bask in the appreciation of our uninterrupted time together.
“You know, Michelle, I haven’t said this in a while, but I’m so proud of you. You are an incredible woman, and I don’t know what I would do if you were not in my life. You have been through so much,” he said, taking a bite of his shrimp and grits appetizer. “I really would like to see you just enjoy the rest of this pregnancy. No stress. No worries. Just pleasure and relaxation. You deserve that and more.”
I felt as if I was about to cry at his tender words. Over the course of the last few years, we’d lost our connection. Our romance. A part of our friendship.
“Thank you, baby. You will never know how much that means to me.” I leaned over and gave him a kiss.
“I’m serious. I want you to enjoy the next couple of months, because once you become my baby’s mama, it’s going to be all about the little man from then on in,” he said jokingly.
“There you go with that wishful thinking again.” I took a sip of the Acqua Panna that I’d ordered. “It’s all right, though. As long as I’m your baby’s mama, I will give you as many babies as you want—until you get that boy.”
Before he could respond, the maitre d’ appeared with our entrees. I’d ordered the fish and chips with grouper and a buerre-blanc sauce, and Darvin had selected the crab cakes. After the food was placed on the table, we blessed it and immediately started eating. The way we dove into it, you would have thought that we hadn’t eaten in days.
The food was delicious. The conversation was engaging. The atmosphere was perfect. Yep. Things in my life were taking a turn for the better. In the words of one of my favorite childhood poets, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, all was well with the world.
Chapter Nineteen
Daphne
All my life I had to fight. I had to go above and beyond the ordinary to get the things that I wanted. I saw Darvin no differently.
It had been four weeks since my run-in with Michelle. But not one to be defeated, I got very active in the church as I said I would, and had been layering the icing on very thick ever since then. Each Sunday Darvin preached, I fell out in the spirit. I spoke in tongues. I shouted amen louder than anyone in the church. I sent emails to his personal email address almost every day, encouraging him to keep preaching, telling him that his sermons were changing my very life. Oh, yes, I was the perfect member—soon to be the first lady. And I was hoping that it was getting harder for him to see the monster I’m sure Michelle had made me out to be.
This past Sunday, I’d walked up to him and placed in his hands an envelope containing a love gift of twenty-five hundred dollars in cash. I knew there were some heavy hitters in the church, but none of them were dropping that kind of money in the love offering. I told him his sermon blessed me so much that God had spoken to me and instructed me to sow a seed into his life. After all, you reap what you sow, right?
His eyes had gotten large, and you couldn’t have missed the smile on his face if all the lights were turned out. I knew from being on the inside as Michelle’s armor bearer that pastors loved their love gifts. I couldn’t have asked for a better plan than to have the opportunity to be as close to Michelle as “Daphne” in order to find out what Darvin l
iked and didn’t like. Therefore, I was able to trump all of the other women who had taken a liking to him. They had no clue as to who he really was. He was a man who liked his ego stroked as much as any other man; however, not in the usual way. He loved it when people spoke words of affirmation and expressed their love through gifts. Those were just his love languages, and I knew how to speak them. However, as “Daphne,” my financial luxuries had failed to compare to what they were now.
It seemed that since my first investment had yielded my unbelievable dividends, I was on a streak of luck. In addition to my already lucrative portfolio, God had afforded me to be even more successful in my newest ventures—trading and selling stock market shares, as well as buying and flipping houses in the real estate business. I wasn’t hurting for money in no sense of the term, and giving money and gifts to my future husband wasn’t a loss; it was an investment.
Michelle had turned all kinds of shades of blue when I put the money into his hands. She was probably aware of the fact that it was another part of an ultimate plan, but I didn’t care one single iota. Any time I had the chance to make her squirm, I would. And any time I had the opportunity to let my little light shine, then shine it would.
However, I must admit that Michelle’s persistence was beginning to wear me out. The goal was to claim Darvin, but it would be a lot easier if I could just get her to snap and walk away on her own. The stress on her face that I was accustomed to seeing had been replaced with a look of peace. That could only mean one thing: It was time to shift the plan in another gear.
I knew that Darvin secretly desired a gray, two-door Bentley Continental GT. I happened to be at the church one night for women’s meeting, and when I got up to go to the bathroom, I walked by the choir room and overheard him talking about it with the minister of music. Darvin told him that whenever he was ordained bishop, he would get one. I also heard him mention that some church in Baltimore had lost their pastor, and that it was a possibility that he might have to go there and fill in.
Diary of a Mad First Lady Page 14