The First Lady

by Carl Weber

  Enjoying his distress, I spoke louder and enunciated each word as if it were a dagger plunging repeatedly into his heart. “I. Said. Tell. Him. He’s. Going. To. Be. A. Daddy.”

  The trustee lowered his head and tapped his forehead repeatedly against his desk. “Oh, dear Lord,” he muttered before lifting his head to look at me. “Are you sure about this, Sister Monique?” His condescending attitude had vanished, and he sounded scared. You would have thought he was the one who got me pregnant. I relished the moment.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I know when I have my period and when I don’t. What, do you wanna see the plus sign on the home pregnancy test?”

  “No, no, I believe you.” His brow was creased with worry. “You realize this could get very complicated, don’t you? Everyone in church knows he’s seeing Lisa Mae Jones.” He actually said it as if we were both part of some team whose only purpose in life was to preserve the bishop’s reputation. The pathetic thing was that after everything that had happened, I was still harboring a soft place in my heart for the bishop and just might be willing to join that team.

  “No, Trustee.” I sighed, feeling disappointed in myself. As much as I wanted to hate the bishop, to feel indignation about the way I was treated, I couldn’t bring myself to stop caring about him. “It’s not going to get complicated. I care about the bishop, and I know he cares about me.”

  I had foolishly hoped, I suppose, that Trustee Black would confirm what I’d said, that the bishop did in fact care about me. My ego could have used that boost. But no, he was still stuck on the same note—his precious bishop’s reputation. Trustee Black couldn’t care less about me.

  “And just how do you expect the bishop to react to such news?”

  “Trustee, he can react any way he wants to. I have the final call on what happens with me and this baby. I just came to inform him because I thought a man of God would want to know he fathered a child.”

  “Well, what do you plan on doing? You’re not going to keep the baby, are you?” Again, he wasn’t concerned about the fact that the bishop had committed a sin, only that his precious congregation wouldn’t view the indiscretion too kindly. He was making me sick.

  “Keeping the child is an option,” I told him, though I had pretty much decided that I couldn’t do that. I was enjoying his worried expression.

  “Sister Monique, you can’t have a child by the bishop. You’d ruin his career. The man would never be able to preach again.”

  Suddenly, it dawned on me how serious this whole thing was. While I was enjoying watching Trustee Black squirm, the reality of the situation was not so easy to accept. The trustee was right. A scandal this big could cost the bishop his church, and I did not want to be the cause of that. In spite of how deeply he had hurt me, Bishop Wilson was a great leader, and First Jamaica Ministries was a great church. It would be in chaos without Bishop Wilson in charge. People needed—their spirits deserved—to be able to hear his message from the pulpit every Sunday. I didn’t know if I could live with myself if I deprived so many people of God’s word.

  Tears rolled down my face. “Don’t you think I know that? I don’t want to hurt him, Trustee.”

  “Well, we’ve got to come up with some other options.” His tone had softened just a bit, but I wasn’t fooled. I knew that was only because he was starting to believe he could maybe convince me to come over to his side.

  “Yes, we need options. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to take matters into my hands without at least talking to him. I know I have the final say, but I also have a conscience. The bishop has a right to know about the pregnancy as well as about what I decide to do with the baby. But that doesn’t mean I plan on hurting him.” Tears flowed freely as I thought about how he had hurt me.

  “Well, what do you plan on doing?”

  “I was thinking maybe adoption. We could find a good Christian home. There are plenty of people who’d want a newborn baby right here at First Jamaica.” The idea to search for a suitable family within the church had just come to me, and I felt like maybe it was some sort of divine inspiration, the best solution for everyone involved. At least I felt that way until Trustee Black shut me down.

  “Now, Sister Monique, let’s be for real here for a second. You said you didn’t want this to get complicated, and you didn’t want to ruin the bishop’s career, didn’t you?” I nodded. “Now, do you really think that man would let someone else raise his child? A member of his church nonetheless?”

  I remained silent as my mind turned around his words. He was telling me that the bishop would not support the idea of adoption for a child he conceived. But he’d already made it clear that the bishop wouldn’t risk his career by accepting the child and raising it as his own. So, if he weren’t going to raise it and he wouldn’t let anyone else raise it, there seemed to be only one more option, one I had long ago decided was not a choice I could ever make. The trustee’s voice was sinister as he confirmed what I was afraid he was trying to say.

  “I think we both know there’s a better solution … a more permanent solution. A solution that a woman who truly loves the bishop would choose under these circumstances.”

  Trustee Black wanted me to have an abortion! Would the bishop really support the murder of this baby just to protect his reputation? “I think I should talk to him first,” I sobbed.

  “Well, don’t worry about that,” Trustee Black soothed. “I’ll talk to him. What’s important right now is that we take care of the situation.” He pulled out his checkbook without waiting for my response. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, a procedure like that costs around five hundred dollars, correct?”

  I looked at him wide-eyed and shrugged my shoulders, only slightly surprised that he expected me to know the answer to that question. My reputation was that bad, even if the rumors were incorrect. Contrary to popular belief, I’d never had an abortion.

  He wrote out a check and handed it to me. “Here … this should cover it.”

  I took several long, deep breaths before I looked down at the check. It was written to cash in the amount of fifteen hundred dollars.

  “This is too much,” I said stupidly. I was so numb, I didn’t even have the wherewithal to just hand the check back to him and storm from the office. I had let this man railroad me into a conversation about something I thought I could never even consider, and all I could do was tell him he’d given me too much money. When would I ever believe I deserved better from the men in my life?

  “No, it’s just enough for you to have your procedure and take a nice vacation. Jamaica is nice this time of the year. Have you ever been?”

  “No,” I answered, my voice sounding as vacant as my soul felt.

  He smiled triumphantly and patted my shoulder. “Well, enjoy yourself.”

  28

  BISHOP

  “Bishop, when I’m in that studio, I feel like an entirely different person,” Savannah said as she sat in my office during one of her counseling sessions with me. Her eyes were lit up. She stared off as if she were describing a dream instead of reality. “I mean, there’s nothing that compares to the way I feel when I croon over a mike and even when I make my voice dance with full-hearted, strong notes in that sound booth. My music is important to me. That’s what God put me on this earth to do. If I didn’t know it before, then I know it now.”

  “Sister Savannah, I believe you’re right. You and music are an undeniable pair,” I said. “You definitely have talent. I know I hear you sing every Sunday at church, but when you were in that studio, it was like a special anointing was all over you. I don’t remember the last time someone’s singing moved me the way yours did in the studio.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, Bishop. And your support means a lot to me. I can’t explain how much I really appreciate you.”

  “Well, I’m glad to know you’re so passionate about singing. Your voice is an inspiration to many. I know when your father hears that demo, he won’t be able to fight the tears back.” As I had expected
, Savannah’s smile quickly vanished from her face. “Is something wrong, Sister Savannah?”

  She dropped her head. “No, Bishop.”

  I hated to put rain over the cloud she was floating on, but after all, this was a counseling session. Considering that Deacon Dickens was one of the proudest fathers at First Jamaica Ministries, I knew he wouldn’t keep Savannah’s accomplishments from everyone, so she obviously hadn’t let him in on her newfound career. If telling her father about her desire to make music was one of her biggest apprehensions, then it was my job as counselor to address the issue. Savannah had been trying to skate over the subject of her father since our session began.

  “Sister Savannah, you suddenly went from glee to gloom. Was it something I said?”

  “Well, uh, actually, Bishop,” she stammered, “I haven’t told my father about my song recordings yet.” She looked in my face, apparently awaiting my reaction.

  “I’m not gonna lie. I kind of felt that must have been the case. Your father and I communicate quite a bit. He would never keep something like this from me. Why on earth are you hesitant about telling him of your passion for singing?”

  Savannah folded her arms across her chest, then started pouting. “A couple years ago, when I merely mentioned it, he hit the roof—ranting and raving about hoochie videos and bootie shaking.” She shook her head. “But, Bishop, that’s not me at all.”

  “Hmm … Deacon Dickens is a man of God. He has to understand that you won’t be singing for the world but that you’ll be singing for the Lord. I’m sure he has to know you wouldn’t be gyrating while singing the Lord’s praises.”

  “I don’t know, Bishop. He must have thought something along that line. Plus, he said that many of his gospel favorites left singing praises for the Lord to sing secular music. He thinks if I record gospel, the right scout will come along with the right price to convince me into the ways of the world.”

  I certainly believed everything Savannah said. For as long as I’d known Deacon Joe, he’d been grounded in the Lord. But, as a parent, I knew we can’t live our children’s lives for them. After raising them right, prayer and trust are all we can do to keep from going crazy over some of the decisions they make. What I couldn’t believe was that the deacon had no confidence in the way he’d brought up Savannah.

  “Have you ever asked your father to just have some faith in you?” I asked.

  “Yes, but nothing alters the way he thinks.”

  “And how do you feel about what he thinks?”

  “Nothing pleases me more than praising the Lord. Secular music isn’t for me. My heart is with writing and singing gospel. My voice belongs to Him.”

  “Then maybe you should try talking to your father about it again, and tell him the same thing you just told me. I’m convinced your heart is where it belongs.”

  “No, Bishop. I just don’t see trying to have that conversation with him again.”

  “Well, Sister, he can’t be kept in the dark forever. You’re his daughter. I know how I would feel if my children kept something so important from me. You need his love and support. At some point or another he’d have to come around.”

  Savannah sat back in her chair. “I can’t do it. Maybe you should try telling him I need him,” she said. “As a matter of fact, Bishop, that might not be a bad idea.”

  “Oh, no, Savannah,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “That’s not my battle.”

  She paused for a moment. “Bishop, I don’t know if the battle is mine, either. It’s the Lord’s. I sing for Him, so maybe I ought to just let Him tell my father.”

  “Oh, Sister Savannah.” I laughed. “I don’t think that’s quite the interpretation the Lord had in mind.”

  She had to laugh herself. “I know, Bishop, and I’m going to tell my father, I promise,” she said as she stood up. “But not tonight. I’ve got a song in my head that I need to get home to put on paper.”

  “Well,” I said, standing, “in our next session, I can’t wait to hear about your father’s response to finding out about your future successful singing career,” I hinted.

  “Oh, Bishop,” she said, reaching out and grabbing my hand. I looked down in time to watch her other hand stroke the back of my hand.

  When I looked up at her, our eyes locked. In order to brush over the somewhat awkward moment, I said, “But in the meantime, if there’s anything else I can help you with—”

  “As a matter of fact, Bishop,” she said quickly, cutting me off. She looked down at her hands caressing mine, then dropped them to her sides. “There is something you can help me with. Well, not actually me, but a friend of mine.”

  “A friend,” I said with a raised eyebrow and peculiar look on my face.

  “Yes, Bishop,” she said, taking a seat again. “You see, there’s this friend of mine and she sort of has a crush on this man.” She looked embarrassed, then stopped herself. “Maybe I shouldn’t call it a crush. I mean, she’s much too old for a crush.” Savannah blushed. “But my friend really likes this man, and she thinks that he likes her too.”

  “Thinks? So you’re, uh, I mean your friend, hasn’t told this person how she feels about him?”

  “No, because she doesn’t want to embarrass herself.” She looked down. “She’s never approached a man about such feelings before, and the fact that he’s someone she admires makes things more difficult for her. She really looks up to him.”

  “I guess I can understand her being reluctant. No one likes embarrassment. But maybe there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Are you sure he’s never expressed stronger feelings for her?”

  She continued to look down as she shook her head. “No, their relationship started off with him being someone she could get advice from. But now she thinks she’s fallen in love with this man. She’s pretty sure he likes her, but I believe she’ll do anything to have him love her as much as she loves him.”

  Talk about the covers being pulled off someone. But here it felt like Savannah was pulling the covers off herself and that she was sitting before me butt naked in that chair. I mean, it was more than obvious who this so-called friend was and who the man she admired was. I believe Savannah even sensed I knew what she was trying to say. She clearly was looking for a positive reaction from me, but she’d caught me by surprise. I tried to think of a quick response, but I was stumped.

  “Well, uh,” I finally said, loosening my tie. I tried not to look uncomfortable with the conversation, but I know I failed. The only thing that helped me was, Savannah didn’t have the courage to look me in the eye for an extended period of time. “Is this man that your friend is in love with … is he a man of God—assuming that your friend is a woman of God.”

  “Oh, he’s definitely a man of God, one of the Lord’s servants indeed. He doesn’t know it, but she’s extremely attracted to this side of him too. She loves everything he represents and all that he’s about.”

  Lord have mercy. I was at a loss for words, but fortunately I was able to scrape a few up. “Well, I think you should pray on it… for your friend, that is. Pray for your friend. God knows all of our hearts, and I’m sure He has someone in store for her. You know He always delivers on time.”

  “But, Bishop, isn’t it kind of unfair for her to hide her feelings from this man? Shouldn’t she at least try to talk to him? Who knows? Maybe God wants them to be together. They won’t know until an effort has been made. This man is very caring. If she stresses how she feels, he might be willing to give them a try. ”

  For some reason, my tie didn’t feel loose enough at that moment. I pulled on it some more, clearing my throat and mentally pleading for God’s help. “You’re right, Sister Savannah. Who knows? But hold off on talking to your friend about her developing more than a platonic relationship with this man. If it’s meant to be, God will lead their hearts together. In the meantime, I still think you should just pray for your friend. That’s the best thing you can do for her right now.”

  “You’re right, Bishop,” s
he said, standing again and throwing her arms up like she felt silly. “Prayer is always the answer.” Looking into Savannah’s face, I could see she was embarrassed. She began to hurry toward the door. “Well, I better go. And thank you for everything, Bishop.”

  “Uh, you’re quite welcome,” I said, standing to see her out, still a little stumped by the subject of our last conversation. “See you later.”

  “Yes, Bishop. And tell Marlene I asked about her,” she said as she exited my office.

  “Whew,” I said as I walked back over to my desk and sat down in my chair. “Oh, boy, I sure wasn’t expecting that one.”

  29

  LISA

  After stopping by a liquor store, Loretta and I sat parked down the street from the bishop’s house, opposite the direction in which T.K. would have to travel to reach the church for the deacons’ board meeting. We were waiting so long that I was starting to think he was skipping the meeting to be with his crackhead baby momma like he’d done so many other times during the past few weeks. I was getting tired of her real quick, and it was taking all my self-control not to just jump out of my car and bang on his door and demand that he kick her out. Fortunately, Loretta was there to cool me down enough that I could wait with my anger on a low simmer rather than a full boil.

  “Lisa, I know you’re mad, but remember who you are. You do not want your man witnessing you showing your ass. He needs to believe you support what he’s doing for that crackhead. Then when he catches her using drugs again, she’s the one showing her ass, and you can be the concerned girlfriend there to soothe his disappointment. So keep your ass in this car. He’ll be coming out any minute now.”

  Loretta was right too. At the last minute, his garage door opened and he pulled out into the street. We watched him drive in the direction of the church; then both of us knew it was time to put Operation Crackhead into motion. I was determined to show my beloved T.K. Marlene’s true colors.