The First Lady

by Carl Weber

  “Perfect? Are you crazy? I slept with that woman, James. What if she thinks I took advantage of her? This is not perfect.”

  “Ha!” James blurted out. “If anything, I’m sure she’s the one who took advantage of you, T.K. You’re a man who’s been without relations with a woman for almost a year. You were at your weakest point. No man is going to hold that against you. Maybe some women, but not a man. Hey, you’re just like everyone else. You’re just a man.”

  “I’m not just a man, James. People look up to me. I’m their bishop.”

  “Bishop, minister, reverend, priest, pastor, call it what it is, T.K. You can’t hide from the fact that you’re a man. Jesus was just a man.”

  “A perfect man.”

  “And God knew that He would be the only perfect man to ever walk this earth, so God expects us to make mistakes. You of all people know that, T.K. You just taught it in the men’s Bible study class last month,” James reminded me. I felt like a babe in Christ, like everything I had lived by was foreign. “That’s why God is a forgiving God. But you can’t keep making the same mistakes. At least not with the same person,” James said in a lower tone.

  “Anyway, listen to me, friend. Monique would be a logical first pick for you to sleep with, but as you can see now, she’s loose. She’s no first lady. Your first pick for that should be Lisa Mae or maybe Savannah. I mean, Lisa Mae didn’t spread her legs for you, did she?”

  “Of course not,” I said quickly. Did he honestly think I could have had relations with Monique if I had also just been with Lisa? Maybe James’s morals were a little more lax than even I suspected.

  “T.K., don’t you see? You can still put this little transgression behind you and do what you’re supposed to. You said it yourself—even your wife wanted you to be with Lisa Mae.”

  As I let my best friend’s words sink in, I looked over at a picture of Monique at the church’s summer picnic. I had to admit, Daisy Dukes weren’t the ideal outfit for a church function and weren’t something a first lady would dream of wearing. It was also an outfit Lisa Mae wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in public. There was just no way around it. Monique was a beautiful and genuine woman. What you saw was what you got with her, and I think that’s what I was so attracted to, but so much more had to be figured into the equation. I thought about the positive and negative, her reputation versus my reputation, the advantages and disadvantages, but when it all came down to it, being with her was wrong, and the consequences were great.

  “You there?” James asked after a few moments.

  “I’m here.”

  “Look, take Monique being gone as a sign. It’s not meant to be between you two, and when she comes back, you can make her understand that. In the meantime, take this time as a chance to get to know Lisa Mae. I’m not asking you to sleep with her. Just get to know her.”

  I thought about the afternoon I’d spent with Lisa Mae, and I knew it would be no easy task to get to know her as a woman, aside from her ambitions to help me better the church.

  “Anyway,” James continued, “a woman like Monique is surely going to find someone to keep her entertained while away. She’ll have forgotten all about you and her little rendezvous by the time she returns. I’m gonna tell you the same thing you always say to me. Pray on it, and fast, T.K., and you’ll see I’m right. I mean, what’s done is done. Now you just have to move on,” he said with finality. “I’ll see you later at services.”

  After ending my call with James, I’d like to say that I felt better, but in actuality, I only felt worse. It wasn’t just because I had given in to the desires of my flesh. Now that I had done so, I was mostly afraid that this wouldn’t be the last time. Maybe Lisa Mae was wrong. Maybe I was a lot more like James than she thought.

  I returned to my knees and started to pray again, asking God to forgive me, to grant me renewed strength, and to give me a sign about who should be the next first lady. And as I realized that I would soon have to make some hard decisions about the women vying for that title, I wondered how I could proceed without having the entire church fall on top of my head.

  ALISON AND THE FIRST LADY

  From half a block away, I watched the bishop’s Cadillac pull out of Monique’s driveway; then I drove straight to the cemetery. It was time to update the first lady on the turn of events and decide which letters to deliver to the candidates next.

  When I reached the gravesite, I said, “Good morning,” then got right to the point. There was no reason to dilly-dally when I had so much to say and so little time to say it. I had to get home and dress for church before my husband realized how long I’d been gone. After all, I had been spending a lot of weird hours away from home, and I didn’t want him to think I was having an affair.

  “Well, Charlene, it looks like the poop has hit the fan a little sooner than we expected, but things are still going according to plan. I have some good news and a lot of bad news, depending on how you take it. Which would you like to hear first?” I stared at the headstone as if expecting an answer; then I replied as if I’d received it. “Okay, good news it is.

  “It appears that Lisa Mae and the bishop are definitely dating. They showed up yesterday at the Olive Garden while we were having the scholarship meeting, holding hands. They make such a cute couple. And you were right. Everyone thinks she’s going to make the perfect first lady.” I couldn’t help but smile, although it soon faded when I realized it was time to get to the bad news.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but one of the candidates has dropped out.” I hated to continue because I knew Charlene had felt that more competition would make the women get catty, and the bishop would see their true colors. “I know how much you wanted Marlene to be a part of this because of her connection to your family, but I don’t think she’s got a chance. She’s back using drugs, Charlene. The bishop told me that he had to take her son down to Tanisha because she’s on the stuff so bad.” I bent over and picked up a few scattered weeds. “I know … she was clean for so long. I wonder if the first letter we left her put too much pressure on her instead of helping her. I gave her another one telling her to get her act together, but I don’t know if that’s gonna help.” I threw the weeds to the side. “I’m thinking about leaving her one of the letters of encouragement that we wrote. Perhaps that’ll persuade her to get help. What do you think?” Like a messenger from above, a bird began to sing nearby, and I knew exactly what I had to do.

  “There is a bit more bad news.” I frowned, staring at the ground instead of the headstone because I knew what I was about to say was not welcome news. “I just saw the bishop leaving Monique Johnson’s house. He was putting on his suit jacket as he walked to the car. I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but … well, here goes. I’m pretty sure he slept there last night.” I held my breath for a moment, hating to be the bearer of such bad news. I knew that somewhere in the heavens my best friend was weeping. “If it’s any consolation, from the look on his face, I think he regrets it now.” I finally got the courage to look up at the headstone. “I’m sorry I have to tell you this, Charlene, but you knew this was going to happen, that Bishop is only a man. He might be a good man, but he’s still only a man. I guess now we find out if he’s really a man of God who learns from his mistakes and continues to follow the Lord or a man of lust who continues down the road to hell.” I smiled at my friend one last time. “I’m betting he’s a man of God.”

  18

  LISA

  By the evening of the church’s monthly membership meeting, I was well prepared to show everyone in the congregation my suitability for becoming first lady. And there was no better time than at the members’ meeting. Unlike the deacons’ meeting or the board of trustees meeting, it was open to the entire congregation. It was also the meeting where members started the most drama, which is why it was usually more crowded than some of the early Sunday morning church services. Negroes love drama, and trust me, there’s no better drama than church drama. When my husband was
alive, I’d seen deacons fight in the aisles over things as trivial as what color the men’s choir robes were going to be. I’d also heard of pastors losing their jobs because of unruly membership meetings. Thankfully, the bishop ran a tight ship, so very seldom did things get out of hand at First Jamaica. And if I had my way, this particular membership meeting would be totally drama-free as I made my presence known as a candidate—the perfect candidate, really—to become the woman by the bishop’s side at the head of the church.

  As Loretta and I were putting the finishing touches on the refreshment table, Sister Savannah, followed by her power-hungry father, Deacon Joe Dickens, called themselves bringing some tired old peach cobbler to the table. Now, I knew Savannah heard me the week before when I told the sisters that I would supply all the food for this meeting. Besides, there was barely any room on the table for the cobbler by the time Loretta and I finished laying out my spread. Why those two couldn’t get the hint was beyond me. Everyone in the church knew the bishop and I were an item, but Savannah always seemed to be in the bishop’s face, and so was her father; although I don’t know why, because there was no way the bishop could ever be interested in someone like Savannah.

  If you ask me, something was not right about that woman. She was in her mid-thirties, and her daddy followed behind her like she was thirteen. And he must have thought his daughter was dipped in platinum or something, because he sure as heck thought Savannah was going to catch the bishop’s eye sooner or later. I had it on good authority that her father had said, “Until I see a ring on Sister Lisa Mae’s finger, the bishop’s still a single man.” Well, he and his daughter were in for a surprise because after today, I don’t care how much peach cobbler, or pork chops, for that matter, they brought to the table. This meeting was like my coming-out party, and it would be only a matter of time before the bishop slipped a ring on my finger.

  “You can set it in the back over there,” Loretta told Savannah when she brought the cobbler over to the table, playing that coy role she always did. “If we end up needing it, I’ll set it out. If not, no need in it going to waste. You can take it back home. I’m sure you and the deacon will enjoy it.”

  Savannah stood silent and still, frowning at Loretta, while holding the pan of cobbler in front of her. Her eyes finally traveled past Loretta, then landed on the table as if still looking for a spot to rest her pan. Loretta shifted her weight to one side, then propped her hand on her hip, preparing to tell Savannah where else she could take her cobbler. Still determined to make this night drama-free, I stepped over to intervene.

  “Savannah, honey, how about giving the cobbler to me?” I asked, reaching for the pan. “I’ll take it to the back for you.”

  Nobody asked Deacon Dickens for his two cents, but of course he spoke it anyway. “Why don’t we just put it here?” the deacon suggested, making it sound more like a demand. He moved two of the sweet potato pies I’d brought to the back, where no one could see them. “Ain’t no need in having four sweet potato pies sitting on the table at one time anyway. I’ll just get these two out of the way; then Savannah can put her cobbler right here. You ladies got an issue with that?” He turned to face Loretta and me, obviously displeased with us for trying to block Savannah’s dowry.

  “You think this spot will do?” He frowned as he pointed to the empty space he’d made on the table.

  Loretta looked at me and twisted her lips. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it before she could say something. “Sure, Deacon,” I said in the most pleasant voice I could find. “I think that’ll work.”

  “Good. We wouldn’t want the bishop to miss out on his favorite treat, now, would we? He’s very fond of Savannah’s cobbler, you know.” He looked me dead in the face when he said that.

  Loretta nodded, then gave Savannah a fake smile, which she kept plastered on her face until the deacon and his daughter walked away. When they had both taken a seat, Loretta picked up the cobbler and placed it under the table.

  From here on out, the only treats the bishop is going to be sinking his teeth into are mine, I thought.

  “All right, men and women of God, I’d like to get this meeting started.” The bishop stood. He was looking tired and had lost some weight in the past two weeks because of a fast he was coming off of today. That was why Loretta and I went so crazy with the refreshments. I wanted to make sure my man had some good food after his long fast. “As always, I’d like to open this evening’s meeting with prayer.”

  Everyone bowed their heads as the bishop blessed the meeting. Then the different committees gave their reports, and finally, the question-and-answer session began. Right off the bat, the congregation started hitting Bishop with all types of queries. When would the summer revivals start? With all the money our church raises, why did we only give out ten scholarships and not fifteen? And were we going to have an Easter egg hunt for the kids? The demands seemed endless, but he was holding his own until about fifty of the women got started on him about the women’s month being canceled.

  Women’s month was the one month out of the year when the women of the church ran everything, from church services to Bingo. It had always been the first lady’s baby, but since she’d passed, it was put on the back burner. No one had stepped up to take Charlene’s place as the chairperson of the committee that planned the events for women’s month, so the committee had pretty much disbanded, and the month was canceled. Interestingly, none of these women who were questioning the bishop now would have even cared about the cancellation if Loretta hadn’t brought it to their attention a couple of days ago at women’s Bible study. She also suggested that they come to the meeting to get it reinstated.

  “Why’d you cancel our month? It’s bad enough this church is run mostly by men. You didn’t cancel the men’s—”

  “Well, uh, as far as women’s month …,” the bishop stammered. I don’t think he had even realized it was canceled. The poor man was obviously having a hard time keeping everything together since his right-hand woman was gone. But I was just the woman he needed to pull things back together, and I was about to prove this to everyone present.

  I let them cut him to shreds for about two minutes before I decided to jump in. After all, he was my future husband—and coming to his rescue was well planned in advance by me and Loretta.

  “Excuse me, Bishop,” I said, stepping from behind the refreshment table, “but I think the ladies are misinformed. I have the notes on everything we discussed as far as the women’s month is concerned.”

  Ooooh, if I could have bottled up that precious look on the bishop’s face when he shot me a glance. He looked momentarily perplexed, but then his features flooded with an expression of pure relief. He knew I had his back. I would’ve winked at him, but at this point, all eyes were on me.

  I caught a glimpse of Savannah when she snapped her neck around to check me out. Both her father’s and her facial expressions were priceless, a mixture of confusion and envy. Though I didn’t have a ring on my finger, the deacon was about to find out that what I had with the bishop was a lot more than he’d ever expected. We needed no symbolic ring to show our dedication to each other.

  “Do you mind if I address the congregation?” I asked the bishop, “or would you like to do the honors?” I stuck out my hand to present to him the yellow folder I had brought for this little “demonstration.”

  “By all means, Sister Lisa Mae,” he said with a nod, then moved to the side.

  I looked out among the faces in the crowd and saw that I had the members’ undivided attention. Perhaps some of them were hoping for some drama to jump off, but I was prepared to handle this little misunderstanding about women’s month with such grace and tact that no one in that room would be left with any doubt about who should be the next first lady. My eyes caught Loretta’s briefly; just long enough for her to give me a little wink.

  I stood in front of everyone and began to read from my notes. “The women will be handling the morning services on the following Sundays,”
I started, then proceeded to run down the dates. “We have speakers for each Saturday, with the exception of the seventh, so if any members can suggest someone who might be able to share a word from God with us on that day, please see either myself or the bishop.”

  I looked over at the bishop, who gave me an encouraging smile and a nod. In all actuality, I could have very easily booked a speaker for each Saturday, but I knew that if I didn’t leave an opportunity for church member participation, they’d swear up and down that I was trying to take over the entire women’s month.

  “This year, the bishop and I decided that with all the gifts and talents the women of First Jamaica Ministries have, you should take a greater role in women’s month.”

  The women’s eyes just lit up as I began to ask for volunteers to assign them to different functions and duties. I ended up with a volunteer co-chairperson, a welcoming committee, a hospitality committee, and several women members to do the scripture readings, announcements, offerings, and altar call.

  Before it was all over, the first women’s month since the death of the former first lady was under way, and who better else to organize it than the next first lady? The bishop closed the meeting with prayer and grace; then everyone split up to go in separate directions. Some members went straight to the refreshment table, and others stood around chattering. All the ladies seemed pleased with the outcome. Several of them came over to shake my hand and tell me what a fabulous job the bishop and I had done with the plans.

  I looked over at the bishop, and he was shaking hands and thanking the members for coming out to share with us at the meeting. Just when I saw Savannah about to step up to him, I excused myself from a conversation with Sister Alison in order to break up Savannah’s little happy moment. She couldn’t have said more than three or four words to Bishop by the time I walked up, interrupting her in midsentence.