Sinful Too

by Victor McGlothin

  “No he can’t either!” Nadeen battled back. “I called him and I say he stays until I get me and the girls loaded up.” She was indignant and tired, too tired to see her journey forward stalled by the likes of the man who put himself ahead of her. “Might I remind you the police in this city have a long history of brutality against stubborn black men? They would love coming out to a house like this and dragging your butt across the lawn in handcuffs.” Nadeen assured the driver of his safety when he declined to get out and retrieve the luggage from the den. “He won’t mess with you or I’ll see to it that the cops deal with him.”

  “Is this how it ends, Nadeen?” Richard asked, his eyes narrowing. “Huh? You’d really call the law on me when all I’m trying to do is stop my wife from leaving my home? I love you and don’t want our marriage to fall apart over a senseless affair that didn’t mean nothing to me in the first place.”

  Nadeen shoved Richard aside when the driver made his way toward the opened door. “Oh, you’re a piece of work, Richard. What about all I’ve wanted? Didn’t it occur to you how lonely and hurt I was when you’d come home late without a decent excuse as to where you’d been? Obviously being with Dior did mean something to you. Play that song somewhere else because I don’t like the way it sounds.”

  Irritated, Richard watched as the van driver stepped into his house. “Hey, man, hold on. I’ll get them. Just stay out there. This is my family and . . .” he huffed, glaring at the stranger. He waved the man off then followed Nadeen inside. “Hey. Nadeen, are you saying we can’t talk about this?”

  “When it was time to talk you weren’t interested in hearing what I had to say. Now the shoe’s on the other foot. As a matter of fact, you’d better watch your step before that shoe is up your behind. I’m not playing, Richard. If you want a fight, that’s what you’ll get.” Richard felt as if he’d fallen off a tall building without a net. His marriage was plummeting toward a gruesome end.

  “Okay, how about now? Look-look,” he pleaded. Nadeen sorted through the mail she planned to take with her. “Since you put my stuff out in the hall, I haven’t talked to Dior nor do I intend to. Believe me, now I see how dumb it was letting myself get too close to her.”

  “Now, now, now. Now is too late. Me, Roxy, and Mahalia are going to Atlanta on the eleven fifty flight. If you make us miss that plane, I’m prepared to use your platinum card to book a private charter. If you don’t mind paying forty-five thousand dollars then I won’t mind charging it.” When he remained silent, she nodded her head assertively. “Thought so.”

  With luggage in hand, Richard eyed Nadeen as he followed her out to the van. “Where’re the girls?” he questioned. His voice was shaky, and she peeked to see if he was crying. Even in her plight, she was still interested in his well-being.

  “They’re upstairs in the master bedroom. I wanted them out of the way in case you decided to get silly. They’ve seen and heard enough already. Oh and you’ll need to talk to Roxy about using bad words.”

  “Bad words? Since when?”

  “Since last week, but I’ve been too busy worrying about my husband’s girlfriend to tell you about it. And, I found this when going through Mahalia’s things.” She unwrapped the small hand carved charm Mahalia had purchased at the novelty store in New Orleans. Mahalia didn’t deny getting it but she wouldn’t admit as to why.

  “That looks like some kind of voodoo trinket,” he said, pulling at the hair tied around the doll’s neck.

  “Because that’s exactly what it is,” Nadeen griped smugly. She gestured to the driver that she would be along in a few minutes when he appeared to be getting antsy.

  Richard jogged up the stairs then hurried down the hall to the master suite. When he opened the door, he found his daughters huddled together on the chaise longue. Roxanne smiled lovingly when she saw her father until Mahalia persuaded her to drop the pleasantries. “Don’t forget, we’re mad at him.”

  Roxanne stomped her foot then crossed her arms defiantly. “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

  “Hey, girls, I hear you’re going to visit Gramps in Atlanta,” Richard said, pretending to be at ease when it was apparently otherwise. “Roxy, come over here and give me a hug.” The small child reserved her compliance, awaiting permission from her chaperone. Eventually Mahalia gave her the okay. Roxanne giggled as she sprinted toward her father’s arms.

  “I wasn’t really mad at you, Daddy,” she whispered in his ear. “ ’Halia tried to talk me into it.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Richard asked, enjoying another secret moment with his youngest child. “Who talked you into saying the bad words your mama told me about?”

  Roxanne frowned after realizing she’d been ratted out. “Mommy told you about those three I learned from Herman Kelly?”

  “Sure did, and we don’t want to hear you saying those kinds of things anymore.”

  Roxanne smirked in a cavalier manner that surprised Richard as much as what she said next. “Well, that’s nothing. Mommy can take those dirty words from me. I know two more good ones.” She winked at Mahalia for increasing her vocabulary. “Bye, Daddy,” she said, before leaving the room.

  “I guess it’s just you and me, kid.” Richard offered as an olive branch. “Are we going to make it, me and you, I mean?” Mahalia hid her tears with both hands. She didn’t want to leave without speaking to him, but the heartache pierced so deeply. Richard threw his arms around her. He squeezed tightly. “I know, kitten, I know. It’s rough. Daddy messed up but I’ll take care of it.”

  Suddenly she peered into his eyes like the woman-child she’d become. “Kitten? I can’t remember the last time you called me that.”

  “Then it must’ve been too long. Let me walk you out. Your mother’s in a hurry.” They descended the staircase arm in arm. Nadeen stood at the base of it, imagining how beautiful Mahalia would be in a ball gown, escorted by her father. She reached out for her daughter’s hand when they made it to the foyer.

  “Come on or we’ll be late,” she muttered tenderly. “What did your father say about that thing you brought back?” Richard had forgotten about the trinket in his pocket. He pulled it out then held it in the palm of his hand.

  “Mahalia, I know this is a rough patch in your life but things never get so bad that you run to black magic. Never invite Satan into your heart. It’s too hard getting him out.” Nadeen agreed, although he should have taken his own advice.

  Mahalia tried to make sense of it, why he wagered his family on a diversion like Dior. “I just wanted her to leave you alone, Daddy. I prayed and I prayed to God but He didn’t hear me. Even if He did, He didn’t answer in time.”

  Richard brushed his hand against Mahalia’s face. Her frailty was heartbreaking. “God heard you, I’m sure of it. You don’t need things like this. He’ll answer in His own time.” Richard popped the head off the trinket, tossed the doll down on the floor at his feet. “See there, it’s worthless.”

  He waved goodbye as they climbed into the van, all looking back at him through raised windows. “I’ll call you, Nadeen. I love you!” he yelled, when they pulled out of the driveway. “Mahalia, take care of your sister. I’ll miss you.”

  Thirty

  Let It Shine

  Morning came too fast. Richard awoke in his bed, fully clothed and hungover from the bottle of champagne someone had given him as a gift for ten years of service to M.E.G.A. He never planned on popping the cork but losing sleep for two consecutive nights didn’t appeal to him. Once he threw both legs over the side of the bed, he stretched and moaned. My head is ringing, he thought. I’ll do better after two cups of Nadeen’s coffee. He was using the bathroom with the toilet seat up when it came to mind that there was no one demanding it be lowered afterward nor would there be freshly brewed coffee on standby to help him meet the day.

  Richard broke down mentally. He cried over his troubled marriage and waffling relationship. He recognized the work he had cut out, the long road ahead littered with phone calls to check on the k
ids, plane trips to Georgia, and prayers of winning his wife back on her terms.

  After gargling three times with mouthwash, Richard felt convinced he’d rinsed the smell of liquor from his breath. Several times during his career, he condemned carousers and Saturday nightclub prowlers for dragging into the Lord’s house half inebriated and hungover just as he happened to be then. Pull yourself together, man, he heard himself say. You’re the pastor of a prestigious congregation with thousands of followers. You are Dr. Pastor Richard Allamay, PhD. You still got that going for you. Phillip was right and you can’t forget it. Richard smiled at himself in the bathroom mirror, determined to play the part of a man holding it together.

  An hour later, Phillip paced in the pastor’s chambers, reading his wristwatch every thirty seconds. He put off calling Richard’s cell phone, predicting his arrival in due time. The church auditorium was filled to the rim as usual although there was a strangely different vibe circulating. Two of the deacons, who neglected to make the road trip to New Orleans, pulled Phillip’s coattail to get the real story once their phones rang off the hook. His answer was the same every time: “A slight misunderstanding occurred, but the pastor and Sister Allamay are doing fine.” He actually believed they would patch things up eventually so it wasn’t a total fabrication as far as he knew. One immediate problem existed however. If Richard did not show up in time for morning service and the television broadcast, Phillip was slated to fill in and preach in his place. The thought of that made him shiver.

  “Richard! Boy, I’m glad to see you,” Phillip hailed when the pastor sailed in. Richard looked shinier than a brand-new dime.

  “It’s good to see you too, Phillip,” he answered plainly, as if his world hadn’t been turned upside down.

  “You can’t believe how tickled I am that you made it. Second of all, how’s Nadeen this morning?”

  “She’s in Atlanta. Nadeen took the girls there late last night. I’m sorry. I just assumed she told Rose.”

  Phillip was at a loss for words. “Uh-uh, we haven’t heard. At least I haven’t. I’m sorry too. You are able to preach this morning?” he added, praying for a favorable response. Richard adjusted his necktie. “Why wouldn’t I be? Come on, let’s go to work.” Phillip followed the pastor out of the office, onto the elevator, and into the worship hall. When Richard paused a few feet from the pulpit, the deacon shrugged to question why. “Is there anything I should be aware of?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like Dior sitting in the front row naked?” The look on Phillip’s face made Richard chuckle. “Ease up, Brother Evans, I’m only joking.”

  “Dear Lord, please don’t let that happen today. My heart can’t take it.” He craned his neck to look over the audience. There was not one sign of Dior. He exhaled slowly. “Thank you.”

  Richard approached the podium like he’d done hundreds of times. However this one was very different. Absent was his wife, who’d served as a pulse of the congregation when he spoke. If she wrinkled her nose, he knew to back off. When her eyes appeared blank and glassy, she was probably one of a number who had begun to think about the afternoon football game, pot roasts, or other matters he’d rather not imagine.

  Richard was smiling when he thought of Nadeen as a fine helpmate and he was lost to the fact that the choir had finished their second selection. He stood alone in a quiet auditorium. One of the camera production managers signaled at Phillip to do something, anything, to get the pastor going.

  The deacon rose to his feet. He began to clap his hands, then he belted out the first song that came to his mind. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine . . .” The minister of music almost had a hissy fit when the deacon led thousands of church members in a rousing rendition of a spiritual typically reserved for children’s Sunday school. Eventually, he fired up the organ and joined in. Phillip was suffocating. He felt breathless and faint. Richard simply continued standing there, smiling. “It’s showtime, Richard. You got to pull it together.”

  Richard’s lips began to move ever so slightly, as if he were coming out of a fog. He sang the song he hadn’t heard in years, interested why the church was rocking enthusiastically. “Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. Aaaamen. I’ll take some of that old time religion any day. Good morning, church. I have to apologize, guess I got stuck in yesterday, which is a whole lot better than being stuck in reverse.” He winked at Phillip, to suggest he was back on task. “Can I get an amen?” Richard got more than that. He got a rim shot solo from the drummer. “I see one brother agrees; sometimes that’s all a country preacher needs. Now, I must admit I’m a bit distracted this morning, church. Some of you might have heard rumors of what happened over the weekend.” He paused again to watch Phillip, who he knew would be afraid of the truth coming out. “No, me and Sister Allamay didn’t gamble away the church building at the casino crap tables. You might have heard the saying ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ Well, I’m here to tell you how glad I am we didn’t go to Vegas, because there’s a lot to share about what went on in New Or-leens. Church, be proud of the group who sat on those buses, cramped for hours at a time and forced to put up with me all the way to Louisiana and back.” Laughter replaced looks of uneasiness. Nadeen was correct. Richard’s light shined the brightest when he freestyled. “However, in between the fellowship and bid whist tournaments, we put in work. Three hundred and fifty members toiled in the sun and labored like they expected to get paid. Hallelujah. They pulled off rotted wood, hammered and nailed up new lumber, painted and perspired until the job was done. Hear me well, they put in work. I ought to know because I supervised.” Again, laughter lit up the auditorium. “Of course, I’m joking. I worked a little too. Be proud of your congregation because the Lord told us to move and we did. Faith is so hard to maintain during difficult times. This is one of them. Now then, what doth the Lord have to say about it? In the book of John, around about the third chapter and the sixteenth verse, it reminds us that Faith is the substance of things hoped for and evidence of things not seen.”

  Phillip glanced at Richard peculiarly because the scripture he referred to did not correspond with the passage he recited. Richard was referring to Hebrews 11:1. During the pastor’s sermon, Phillip counted six biblical errors. The elders noticed quite a few more than that. If Phillip hadn’t been as well-versed on the Word, he would have overlooked the host of mistakes. Reasons behind Richard’s strange behavior had to be addressed. After the service concluded, Richard shook hands with hundreds of members near the exit. As long as the line held, he remained.

  Tuesday evening, there was an unexpected knock at Richard’s home. He grunted from the upstairs bedroom that he was on the way down, as if the visitor could hear him. He staggered to the landing then took several careful steps to reach the bottom of the staircase. Richard flew off the handle when the insistent knocks continued. “I said I was coming! If that’s not good enough for you, get on back to wherever you came from!” Had he not recognized Phillip’s car when he glanced out of the front window, he wouldn’t have opened the door. “Hey, Deacon,” Richard uttered. “Well, come on in. And keep the mosquitoes out.” He hiccupped then burped rudely. Phillip used the DVD case he’d brought to fan the foul odor.

  “Uhhgh, how long have you been drinking?” he asked, shielding his nose.

  Richard belched again then flopped on the sofa, wearing the same clothes he’d put on the day before. “That depends on what day it is.” Phillip gave his good friend the once-over. Richard didn’t look good. He hadn’t shaved or bathed in days. It made what the deacon had come to do a lot harder.

  “Brother Pastor,” Phillip started in.

  “Uh-oh, you sound like a man on church business,” Richard cackled. “Maybe I ought to get the Bible out.”

  It couldn’t hurt, Phillip thought to himself. “Taking into account all that’s gone on and what you’re dealing with now, I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” He shifted his weight
then lowered his head. Phillip detested the secret meetings held to oust Richard from the top job at M.E.G.A. Church, now a multimillion-dollar enterprise mainly because of his stewardship. The elders convened an assembly of senior members to discuss grumblings of whoremongering and adultery attached to the pastor’s name. A few of the men in attendance were on hand to witness Richard begging outside of Nadeen’s hotel room to be let in. Phillip sat quietly and listened to them condemn the man he cared about, thinking it would have been easier to speak up had Richard gambled away the church building at one of those offshore casino boats. Arranging for Dior to meet him while on church business was far more unscrupulous in their eyes. Phillip couldn’t argue against them.

  “So what bad news do you hate being the bearer of?” Richard sniped. His eyes squinted distrustfully.

  “The elders think you ought to take some time off, get your business in order, then come back and have a sit-down to talk about it.”

  “Uh-huh,” Richard huffed, dismissing the entire idea. “The elders think that’s what I ought to do? Well, I don’t!”

  “Try to calm down. It’s a lot more complicated than that.”

  “I don’t care how complicated they think it is. I’ll decide when I need a break and for how long!” he shouted.

  “Richard, it’s not up to you. I’m sorry, but the decision has already been made to find a replacement in the meanwhile.”

  “Who’s gonna fill my shoes? Is it you, Brother Deacon? You went after my job behind my back? Huh?”

  “No-no,” Phillip answered in record speed. He quickly remembered the collection of knots in his stomach when he thought he’d have to deliver the last message. “I’m not the right one for it.”

  Richard sat up with his forearms resting on his thighs. “They offered it to you though, didn’t they?”

  “Yeah, yesterday.”

  The pastor sprang to his bare feet. “You’re telling me those old buzzards convened to toss me out?” Phillip nodded his head reluctantly. “How long they been plotting against me?” Paranoia surrounded Richard from all sides.