Diary of a Mad First Lady

by Dishan Washington

  I brushed off her comment with a wave of my hand. “Oh, it’s not a problem. I understand how you feel. I admired him from a distance myself. It was almost unbearable to see him go through what he went through with his first marriage, while standing in the background secretly being in love with him.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Bertha said. “I couldn’t have done it. I probably would have just up and left town or something. I don’t see how you did it.”

  If you only knew, I thought.

  Deacon Parkinson, bringing the meeting back around to the business at hand, said, “Lady Johnson, I’m sure you have already been made aware by Sister Jiles of the salary package we are prepared to offer Pastor upon his acceptance of our offer. Is that feasible for the both of you?”

  Hmm. Let me see. Do I play hardball? Or do I show humility? Gosh, being a first lady might be hard after all.

  “Deacon, you and I both know the asset that Darvin is going to be, not only to this great church, but to this area as well. The last thing I would want to happen is to not take that into deliberation while considering your offer.” I paused. “With that said, if you feel that is the very best that you can do, we are in a position to accept it—as long as you allot the opportunity for revisions in the future.”

  The two deacons looked at each other.

  “That sounds reasonable to me. I can’t speak for the entire board, but I’m sure that we will all agree to revisit the package in a year, and possibly add to it. I’m sure that finances will substantially increase at his taking over, so we have no problem at all making concessions to give him honor for that.”

  I smiled a smile of satisfaction. This was probably the easiest thing I’d ever done in my life. I couldn’t wait to get back home and put the rest of my plan into action. Darvin would be delighted at this news. No pastor in America would turn down this opportunity. And I was going to see to it that he didn’t either.

  I ate more grapes and pineapples while we made small talk. They asked about our plans for children. They asked about our families. They asked about everything they could, until I informed them that I was tired and would like to rest before my early morning flight back to Atlanta.

  We concluded the meeting, and before I knew it, I was back in my hotel room, lying on my back, looking up into the ceiling as if my future were painted on it. And what I saw were the days that lay ahead, when I became the First Lady of Bethelite International Baptist Church.

  I couldn’t have planned a better ending to my life’s story. I had coveted Michelle’s position as First Lady of Mount Zion, and God had something better for me the entire time.

  At that moment, I wished I had a girlfriend to call and tell all of what the Lord was doing for me. But I had no one. However, it was okay. Just like the old hymn said.... What a friend we have in Jesus.

  Chapter Thirty

  Michelle

  With taking DJ to doctor appointments and running my weekly errands, time had not been on my side as of late.

  I parked my truck into its space at the office, grabbed DJ from the backseat, went inside, and whizzed by the receptionist. I had drunk two bottles of water on the way, and desperately needed to use the restroom. I waved at Sabrina on my way through to my office.

  I didn’t even notice the troubled look she had on her face until I came back out to properly greet her.

  “Sabrina, is everything all right?” I asked.

  “No. Pastor is quite upset with all of us right now.”

  “All of whom?”

  “The entire staff is on probation. He found out we have all been interceding his calls from the people at Bethelite in Baltimore.”

  My heart started racing against its own beat. How could they have found that out? I thought only a few people knew, and all of those I’d trusted to never breathe a word.

  “He’s probably just huffing and puffing as he does sometimes. You know how he gets. He’ll get over it, Sabrina. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I don’t think so, First Lady. He’s pretty upset. He made Ann give him the number, and said he was going to call and apologize for his staff’s incompetence.” She looked at the main phone system. “His light is on right now. He must be talking to them.”

  I glanced at the phones, and sure enough, he was talking to somebody. I didn’t know who it was, but I intended to find out.

  “I’ll be back. I’m going to talk to him.”

  “First Lady, he knows that you were the one who told us not to alert him of their calls,” she said, dropping her head.

  “And just how does he know?” I asked, perturbed.

  “I think Dawn told him. She said something about running into an old friend who was here visiting, who also mentioned to her that Bethelite’s search team had been trying to get in touch with Pastor.”

  Dawn had told him? Why was this woman always sticking her nose in places it didn’t belong? Why couldn’t she just leave well enough alone?

  I left Sabrina and walked down the hall. When I got to Darvin’s office, I heard the muffled sounds of him talking to someone, so I knocked on the door. After he said nothing, I decided to enter.

  What I saw had me seeing all kinds of shades of green. Dawn was perched on her broom, as any witch would be; only the broom was my husband’s nice leather chair. She and Darvin appeared to be engaged in a deep conversation.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Excuse me, am I interrupting something?”

  Darvin cast angry eyes at me.

  “No.”

  “I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so I decided to come in.” I looked over at Dawn, who was looking at me as if I were the one out of place.

  “Should I come back?”

  Hesitantly, he said, “No.”

  He was killing me with those one-word answers. He knew that infuriated me. So, he was mad. I knew that, but that was no excuse for giving me the cold shoulder—and especially not in front of Dawn Carlton.

  I turned to Dawn. “I’m sorry, but can you give Pastor and me a few minutes alone? I need to speak with him in private.”

  “Sure.” She looked around me to look at Darvin. “Pastor, I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done. I wanted to finish talking to you about what we were discussing.”

  For the first time, I saw Darvin smile. “Sure thing. I’ll only be a minute,” he said pointedly.

  What! Had he lost his mind? Was he openly disrespecting me in front of a member of our congregation? No sooner than Dawn could walk out the door, I whirled around to face Darvin.

  “What is your attitude about?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

  He got up and took a book from the bookshelf. He flipped through a couple of pages, as if trying to make me even more upset.

  “I don’t have an attitude, Michelle,” he finally said.

  Liar.

  “Yes, you do. I already heard about the Bethelite situation.”

  His gaze met mine. “What Bethelite situation? Because as far as I know, there is no Bethelite situation.”

  The intensity of his stare made me shift on my feet. I lessened my resolve, and sat down in the chair opposite where Dawn had just sat.

  “Baby, I know you’re upset, but you have to understand that I did what I thought best for you. For us.”

  “How can you determine what’s best for me? Huh? Am I not the man of my house? Am I not the priest of my home? If I can’t pastor my own household, how can I pastor Mount Zion, Bethelite, or any other church, for that matter?” He slammed the book shut.

  “Did you ever stop to think that just maybe I deserved to make my own decisions? Do you believe that after all of this time of hearing from God, He would either suddenly stop speaking, or I would stop listening to Him?”

  He walked to his mini-refrigerator and took out a Red Bull. For every second he was drinking it, angst rushed through my veins. I knew I had been wrong in intercepting those calls, but I also knew that Bethelite was serious about acquiring him as their pastor
, and I couldn’t let that happen. We couldn’t leave all of these people at Mount Zion. They were like our family. Besides that, our relatives were here, and Lord knows I needed them, especially after having DJ. No, they were just going to have to find another pastor. God bless Bishop Cloud’s soul, but it was not my fault that he died and they were now without a pastor.

  “Sweetie, I didn’t think you wanted to be bothered with the affairs of Bethelite when so much is going on here at Mount Zion.”

  “Would you just stop it? We both know that’s not true. You blocked those calls from getting to me because you were too selfish to think about anybody but yourself. You thought that I might consider going up there, and you didn’t want it to happen, so you told my staff to make sure I never knew about any of their attempts to reach me.” He tossed the Red Bull can into the metal trash bin.

  “And to think Dawn Carlton had to be the one to tell me. Out of all of the people, Michelle, Dawn was the one who told me. I pay nine people to work for me, and not one single one of them, including you, could do the simplest thing: pass on a message.”

  In one step, he was back sitting behind his desk, pretending to be engrossed in some paperwork.

  “That’s not fair,” I said softly. “I try to never make selfish decisions. Even with all I’ve been through, I’ve still thought of others before myself. And since you mentioned Dawn, you can’t possibly be telling me that you’re now on her side. That you guys have teamed up and she has your best interests at heart. Because I would really question your judgment.”

  “Well, question it,” he blurted out. “I’m not saying we’re a team or anything of the sort, but I am saying that my own wife was plotting behind my back to keep a brotha down.” He shook his head. “I never thought I would see the day that you would go to this level.” He leaned back into his chair. “I knew you weren’t particularly head over heels with this lifestyle, but I just never fathomed that you hated it so much, you would come between potential advancement opportunities for me.”

  “Advancement opportunities? Is that what you call those people in Baltimore? If so, then what are these people in Atlanta called? You sound as if you’ve forgotten the real mission here. The true purpose for your calling.”

  He slammed his hand on the desk. “Now, you wait a minute. I don’t need you sitting in here telling me what I’ve forgotten, or insinuating that I’ve abandoned my calling. How dare you? The last time I checked, my ratings were higher than ever. More people tune into my broadcast than any other broadcast coming out of Atlanta. Last time I checked, every Sunday people are flooding the altar, giving their life to Jesus and desiring to become members of this church.” His eyes were red as fire.

  “When was the last time you did something for the Lord, Michelle? When was the last time a person came to Christ because you led them to Him? When was the last time a person joined this church because of the way you impacted their life?” He paused. “I don’t hear you. When?” he yelled. When I didn’t say anything, he said, “That’s what I thought.”

  I sat there defeated. He was right. Who was I to interfere with any of his ministry dealings? Was I so wrong to want to build my life here, in Atlanta, around the people that I’d grown to love?

  Tears escaped from behind their water gates. I put my hands to my face to cover up the shame I felt. I found myself asking a familiar question: Was I really called to this? To be his wife? Was I ready to continue to make sacrifices that I would never benefit from? I knew that everyone had their crosses to bear, but the cross of being a first lady was again becoming too heavy for me.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Michelle

  Instead of the usual sermon preparation I was accustomed to Darvin doing on Saturday evening, he was packing his bags to go to Baltimore.

  We had argued until our voices were lost in the atmosphere. No matter what I said, he was still bent on going to Bethelite. I was angry, to say the least.

  Tomorrow, he would not be in Mount Zion’s pulpit; he would be in Bethelite’s. He was giving the morning message, as well as the Sunday night message there. And to top it all off, he seemed to be excited.

  I walked into the bathroom, where he was packing his toiletries.

  “Do you need any help?” I asked, attempting to call a truce.

  “No, I think I almost have everything.”

  “Okay, well, I hate to see you leave, but I know this is something you feel you have to do.”

  He stopped packing to look at me. “Please, let’s not go through this again. Let’s just leave things as they are, until cooler heads can prevail. I don’t want to argue anymore.” He resumed packing.

  “Me either. I just want you to be happy, and if going to Maryland will make you happy, then I’m happy.” I forced a tiny smile to appear.

  “Do you mean that?”

  I hesitated. “Yes. I mean it.”

  “Good.” He walked to the doorway where I was standing, and placed his arms around my waist. “Listen, I’m not going to ever do anything without first considering how you feel, and how it may impact our family. And we both know how you feel,” he said playfully. “I just need you to trust me on this one. I’m not saying that I’m going to take the position; I’m just going to check things out.”

  I smiled genuinely this time. “I hear you, baby. And I do trust you,” I said, planting a kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “Good. Why don’t you pack up and go with me? One of our mothers would love to keep the baby.”

  “You’re asking a bit much, don’t you think? I’m just getting warmed up to the idea of you even considering this new church. I certainly am not ready to meet them.”

  He threw up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I just thought I’d ask. You never want to go with me on any of my preaching engagements, but I thought maybe you’d want to check them out with me. But, hey, it’s cool. I won’t pressure you,” he said, moving closer to me. “Now, do you think we can get in a few minutes of alone time while DJ is asleep?” He looked down at his watch. “I still have about two hours left before I have to be at the airport,” he said seductively.

  I responded with a deeper, passionate kiss. He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, where he gently placed me in the middle of our king-sized bed. He reverenced my body, thanking God for it with every stroke of his finger and tongue. He skillfully began to touch my soul with the power of love and romance that only he and I knew existed. Somehow, our troubles moved to a distant place.

  After our intense lovemaking session, I felt better about him going to Baltimore. Inwardly, I knew he would make the right decision—whether I liked it or not.

  Two hours later, I dropped him off at the airport. I kissed him good-bye and watched him disappear through the revolving doors. I didn’t know if he would come back as Mount Zion’s Pastor or Bethelite’s.

  I sighed as I drove away. No one could have ever prepared me for the role of a first lady. There were simply no books to read that would adequately depict this life I lived. Not one single one.

  The buzzing of my cell phone suspended my thoughts for the moment. I looked at the caller ID, and didn’t recognize the number. I decided to answer anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this First Lady Michelle Johnson?” the voice asked.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

  “Um, maybe. May I ask whom I’m speaking to?”

  “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. My name is Solomon Andrews. Twylah’s brother.”

  I was at a loss for words. I had not heard from anyone in Twylah’s family since the day of her memorial service. I’d wanted to call her mother on several occasions, but didn’t know if the time was right. Getting a call from her brother was unexpected, to say the least.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Andrews?”

  “Just call me Solomon. And actually, I need to tell you something very important. But it sounds like
you’re driving, and trust me, you wouldn’t want to be driving when I say what I have to say.”

  My heart was doing somersaults. For some reason, his tone suggested bad news was on the way. Again.

  “I’m fine, Solomon. Just tell me what you have to say.”

  “Can we meet somewhere? Maybe the church?”

  I had not intended to go to the church tonight. They were having quite a few meetings, and I knew if I went, I would end up working.

  “I wasn’t planning on going to the church this evening,” I said. “But I’m willing to talk about whatever you wish to discuss over the phone.”

  Silence.

  Finally, he said, “Okay, that will have to do, I guess. Before I get into what I really want you to know, I must deliver some rather shocking news.”

  From somewhere deep in my belly, laughter erupted. If only I had a hundred dollars for every time someone gave me shocking news.

  “I’m accustomed to such news. Nothing you will say can shock me any more than I—”

  “My sister is alive,” he stated simply.

  Okay. I was wrong. There was something that could be said to shock me, and he’d just said it. But how could it be true? Maybe it would be easier to accept had I not gone to Twylah’s memorial myself.

  “Excuse me? Who are you? Is this some type of joke?”

  “I would never joke about something as serious as this. Hold one moment.”

  Silence.

  “Hello?” a female voice said.

  Time ceased to go on at the sound of Twylah’s voice. I didn’t even realize car horns were blaring at me for not moving through the traffic light. I’d come to a halt, and couldn’t find the sense to continue to drive. Somehow, I managed to pull over to the shoulder, to collect not only my thoughts, but the brain cells that escaped a mile or two back.

  “Twylah, is that you?” I asked nervously.

  “Yes. It’s me. Michelle, before you say anything, I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything,” she said as she burst into tears.