by Carl Weber
What am I thinking? I asked myself, hanging up before it could even ring once. I broke her heart. If I weren’t calling to tell her I’d split with Lisa Mae, there was probably nothing I could say that Monique would want to hear. It would be best for me to just leave her alone and let her get on with her life.
Shaking the thought of Monique out of my head, I went into the kitchen, where Marlene was in her robe and slippers, fixing a cup of tea. It was really good to see her doing so much better.
She had regained some of her weight; not a whole lot where she was fat or anything like that, but enough so that her ribs didn’t show through her blouse anymore. Her face looked less sunken, and her skin had regained some of its brightness.
“Did Sister Savannah make it out okay?” Marlene asked when she spotted me.
“Yes, she did.” I smiled, allowing my mind to linger back to the kiss Savannah had given me before she left.
Observing my smile, Marlene said, “Yeah, she’s worth smiling about, all right.”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Sister Savannah. She’d put a smile on any man’s face. Matter of fact, I don’t know why that girl ain’t married yet. Maybe if she’d do something different with that hair of hers. But you have to admit, she’s kind, genuine, and loves the Lord. What more could a man ask for?” Marlene hinted. “Especially a man who loves the Lord just as much.”
I knew what Marlene was getting at, and she was right. Savannah was a sweet woman, and her strong Christian values would be a great asset to the church. But just as I had no choice when I ended things with Monique, I couldn’t even dream of starting something with Savannah. Lisa Mae and I were an item, a couple accepted by the church, and Lisa Mae was also a fine candidate for the position of first lady. Sure, I knew there was still no real spark between us, but I had to give those feelings a chance to develop. Lisa Mae had done nothing wrong, so what kind of man would I look like if I broke up with her now to start dating another woman? No, I had made my bed, and now there was no unmaking it.
“It’s okay, Thomas Kelly,” Marlene said when I didn’t respond to her comments about Savannah. “You don’t have to admit that you like her, but don’t worry, I won’t be jealous if you do.”
Things were just getting stranger and stranger. Now Marlene was throwing in her two cents about my love life. Everything had been much easier before people decided I was the church’s most eligible bachelor. “Marlene, I—”
She interrupted me quickly. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Thomas Kelly. I’ll admit that for a short while I thought about us getting back together, but now I see what’s real. You need a woman who can help you lead that church, and with my problems, I sure don’t need that kind of pressure.”
Her words left me speechless. I had no idea that Marlene had given thought to us being together again, and it was almost more than I could handle right now. Lisa Mae, Monique, Savannah, and now Marlene; these women swirled around in my head, making me wonder how I had ended up in this situation, less than a year after my wife’s death. Then I thought of Charlene and those letters.
“Marlene, I…” When I couldn’t express a complete thought, I just gave up. “I think I need to go to bed. Good night.” I headed for my bedroom, hoping I could quiet my troubled mind and get some rest.
33
SAVANNAH
“Marlene?” I questioned, still uncertain of the identity of the person standing before me.
“Savannah, you’re right on time,” Marlene said as she stepped aside so that I could enter the house. Speechless, I stepped in, staring at Marlene with my mouth open. Dressed in her Sunday finest, she certainly didn’t look like the same sickly, drug-addicted woman I had met not long ago.
“Now, where I’m from, you better not leave your mouth open wide for that long. No telling what might end up in it, especially if you’re trying to get high.”
I laughed at her sassy words. “Marlene, you look … you look …” My eyes welled up with tears. I couldn’t find the words to tell her just how much healthier she looked, so I just threw my arms around her. “I’m so proud of you, girl.” I pulled away from her, holding on to her arms and admiring the beautiful, sharply dressed woman who stood before me.
“You like?” she asked with a playful twirl, modeling her outfit for me.
It was a blue two-piece suit with a long skirt that had a slight slit up the back. She wore matching blue pumps with a blue-and-white flower on the ankle strap, which matched the blue-and-white flower on the blue hat she was wearing. The strap of a blue purse dangled from her forearm, which she had covered with long white gloves.
“Oh, Marlene,” I said, hugging her again as I began to sniffle.
“Well, I must not look as good as I thought if you’re crying,” she said as we separated.
“Oh, no, Marlene, you look absolutely beautiful. You stand before me looking like a true woman of God. Now this is the Marlene I know you were meant to be.”
“Thank you, Sister Savannah, but you know I have to give you some credit for all of this. If it weren’t for you and the bishop praying me through my addiction for the past four weeks, then I don’t know where I’d be right now.”
“All glory to God, Sister Marlene. All glory to God. He’s working through me to help you. It’s all Him.”
“Well, you and God can fight over who wants to take credit for my successful recovery thus far,” she said with a smile, “because as you know, I have to take it one day at a time. This is only the beginning. But you know what, Sister Savannah? I think I’m going to make it.”
“I know you are,” I said, amazed at God’s power to change even the worst circumstances.
“Well, we better head on out to church. Thanks for picking me up. That way I didn’t have to go early with the bishop. It gave me more time to get myself together.”
“It’s no problem at all.”
The mention of the bishop made me feel a small twinge of embarrassment as I recalled how I had boldly kissed him the last time I was at his house. I’d left that night feeling like a fool. God had brought us together for a much higher purpose than becoming a couple. He’d brought us into a partnership to help save Marlene’s soul, and I felt childish having let that greater goal become confused with my crush. I felt even worse about what I’d done because it was well known that he was involved with Sister Lisa Mae. I was not usually the kind of woman who would try to steal someone else’s man, but that was exactly what it looked like I was trying to do. I hoped my brazen behavior hadn’t offended the bishop. I didn’t want him to think badly of me, especially since, if he and Lisa Mae ever broke up, I still wouldn’t mind having a chance at love with him.
“I know this is a big day for you, Marlene,” I said, struggling to divert my thoughts back to more sensible things. “You’re going back to church a changed woman. But let’s take a moment for prayer before we head out,” I suggested.
We joined hands and bowed our heads, and I began to pray. “Dear, Lord—”
“Uh, pardon me, Sister Savannah,” Marlene interrupted, “but I’d like to say the prayer this time if you don’t mind.”
I smiled. “Of course I don’t mind.”
“Lord,” Marlene began, “I have been through some dark times. I have abused my body with drugs, neglected the needs of my children, and strayed from your Word. But I know now, Lord, that through it all, even when I was at my lowest, You were by my side. I know You love me, Lord, because You sent Thomas Kelly and Sister Savannah to save me. They pulled me out of the darkness, Lord, so that I might see Your light and experience the fullness of Your love. For that, I am forever grateful. Amen.”
Her prayer was short, but moving. Marlene’s progress had touched me deeply, and I was grateful that God had put me in a position to be a part of it. My father’s meddling matchmaker ways might have been a nuisance, but in the end, he brought me closer to the bishop. If it weren’t for that, I never would have been asked to help Marlene, and I woul
d have missed out on this powerful food for my soul.
She squeezed my hand and said, “Now let’s go to church. I want to make my entrance as a new woman and let everyone see the power of God’s love.”
Marlene was right about the impact her improved appearance would have on the congregation at Sunday services. From the moment she stepped out of my car, it was as if all eyes were on her.
“Sister Marlene, is that you?” a woman asked as we made our way up the steps and into the church.
“Well, Sister Marlene. We sure are glad you’ve come back to visit us, and you are looking very well,” Brother Rodney said, tipping his brim.
When we entered the sanctuary, the ushers dang near fell over themselves trying to seat Sister Marlene. “We got a seat up front that we reserved just for you,” one young man said, taking Sister Marlene by the arm.
“Sister Marlene, I’m going back to join the choir now, so I’ll see you at the end of service,” I told her. She nodded, then gave me a wave as she allowed the usher to lead her down the center aisle. I’m not sure if the seat had really been reserved for her, but it didn’t seem to matter to Marlene as she strutted like a proud peacock down to the front pew.
During the service, the choir performed our usual schedule of praise and worship songs: two upbeat tunes giving praise, and two slower tunes to go into worship. Then I stepped toward the microphone for a special surprise, a solo that God put on my heart.
“Praise the Lord, Saints,” I started.
“Praise the Lord,” the congregation repeated.
“I know this morning we’ve been singing for the Lord.”
“Amen,” a couple of the choir members stated.
“And every time I use my voice, it’s for the Lord.”
“That’s right,” someone shouted. “Give praise.”
I turned my attention to the front pew and said, “Well, this solo I’m about to perform is dedicated to an individual. But God is still using my voice to let this person know just how much He loves her, just how much He believes in her, and how, through Jesus, He will keep her.”
“Well, all right,” I heard a man exclaim.
Many members of the church were also looking toward the front pew, where I kept my eyes focused. I was sure they could guess the meaning of my dedication, but I wanted to speak the words out loud to Marlene.
“Sister Marlene, God is good. He has held you up through your most difficult times, and He has brought you here today so that all of us may witness the power of His love through your amazing transformation. Thank You, Lord, for Your eternal love and devotion to us all.”
“Amen!” could be heard throughout the church, and several people raised their hands up in praise. I noticed Marlene wiping a tear from her cheek, but she sat tall and proud and wore a beautiful smile on her face.
“So, Sister Marlene,” I said, looking right at her, “this is for you.”
By the time I finished singing “Amazing Grace,” there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, mine included. The church filled with applause, but it wasn’t for my singing. Folks were clapping to give praise to God, showing thanks for the miracle he had allowed us to witness in Sister Marlene’s salvation. Gradually, though, the applause turned into something else. Several folks stood up and shifted their attention to Marlene. Their clapping became directed at her, a way of congratulating Marlene for pulling herself out of despair and finding a way back to the Lord.
The applause reached a crescendo when, in a move that surprised everyone, the bishop stepped down from the pulpit and approached the pews. He reached out his arms to Marlene, and she leaned against him in an embrace that spoke volumes about their history and the love that they shared for each other.
Only one person in the church seemed unmoved by the outpouring of love in the room. Sister Lisa Mae sat at the other end of the front pew, arms crossed angrily over her chest, watching as Marlene held the bishop as he shouted, “Praise God!” It didn’t look like she was even making an attempt to hide her disapproval.
On the one hand, I suppose I could understand her reaction. No woman is supposed to enjoy watching her man hug another woman. But on the other hand, it would take a cold heart not to feel the joy of the Spirit in this church and respond to it. I wondered if the bishop noticed how Lisa Mae was reacting, and if he did, how he felt about it. But when I turned my attention back to him, I was sure that Lisa Mae was the furthest thing from his mind. He was too caught up in the moment, celebrating how far Marlene had come.
And Marlene was clearly enjoying herself too. I could tell she felt honored by all of the well-deserved VIP treatment she was receiving. I hadn’t seen the members of this church shower one person with so much love since … well, since they surrounded the first lady on the last day she was well enough to attend services before her death. And then it hit me. Now I knew why Lisa Mae was frowning so hard. Maybe she saw what I did: maybe the new, sober Marlene had a better chance at becoming the next first lady than anyone ever dreamed she would.
34
MONIQUE
“Dear, Lord,” I prayed as I kneeled alone in the empty sanctuary, “I am here in Your house, asking for Your help.”
This was the first Sunday I had been back at First Jamaica Ministries since learning that I wasn’t really pregnant. You might think that I would have rushed back to church to praise God for sending me a solution to my problem, but it wasn’t that easy. I still had so many mixed emotions about the whole thing, and I needed some time alone to sort through my feelings. Luckily, Sister Alison must have understood this, because unlike before, when she was calling me constantly, she hadn’t called at all since we left the abortion clinic that day.
I felt conflicted about the fact that I wasn’t carrying T.K.'s baby. Right before the nurse had come in and informed me about the false pregnancy, I’d had a momentary vision of leaving the abortion clinic and raising the bishop’s child, with or without him. Some small part of me had felt robbed of that opportunity when I found out the pregnancy wasn’t real. So, while the false pregnancy had solved some of my problems, it hurt me deeply in other ways.
I struggled with the idea that my body had actually mimicked a pregnancy. What did that say about me? T.K. had broken my heart. Did I really love him so much that in spite of the pain, my subconscious wished I could have his child? I wanted to hate him for rejecting me the way he did, for choosing Lisa Mae over me, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t make myself do it. Instead, I found it easy to come up with excuses for his behavior. Maybe he hadn’t called me because he felt guilty about what he’d done. Or maybe, as Trustee Black had said, he really was busy with some personal matters and just hadn’t found the time to contact me yet. Whatever the reason, it didn’t take me long to realize that I would be willing to forgive him once he explained his silence. In fact, now that there was no pregnancy to complicate matters and threaten his career, I began to entertain the idea that we might still be able to work things out and have a relationship. Yes, I admitted to myself, what I really wanted was to have the bishop back in my life.
I knew the first step in getting T.K. back was making him see what a mistake it was to choose Lisa Mae. I knew the woman was a phony from the moment I met her, but sometimes men aren’t as quick to read people, especially women. Some people call it the power of the pussy. I didn’t know if Lisa Mae had actually given some up to him, but I did know that the bishop was just like most other men: As long as a woman is giving him some attention, satisfying his male ego, it’s impossible for him to look beyond that to see the woman’s true motives.
Even if T.K. couldn’t see it, I knew what Lisa Mae’s intentions were. She was all about becoming the first lady. And even if she did have some feelings for him, she couldn’t possibly love him as much as I did. I just needed to figure out a way to make the bishop see that. So, as I stayed at home, taking the medicine they’d given me to shrink my uterus, I tried to come up with a plan.
Since Sister Alison hadn’t been kee
ping in touch with me, I realized I had no way to know what was happening at the church. For all I knew, the bishop and Lisa Mae could be getting ready to announce an engagement. That’s when I decided that it was foolish for me to be staying away from First Jamaica Ministries. If I wanted to win T.K. back, he had to be reminded of what he was missing. And if I wanted to compete with Lisa Mae, then I needed to be watching her, ready to make a move the moment I saw her slipping.
So, on Sunday morning, I woke up early and put on the same conservative pink ensemble that I’d shown to T.K. the night we made love. With my body back to its pre-pregnancy—or should I say pre-false-pregnancy—shape, all eyes would be on me. That was nothing new, of course, but the only eyes that I cared about on this morning were the bishop’s. Once he got a look at me in this dress, he would remember that night. I had a vision of T.K.
losing control when he saw me, jumping down from the pulpit to pull me into his arms right there in front of the entire congregation.
“Sister Lisa Mae who?” I said with a laugh to my reflection.
T.K.'s reaction to me at services wasn’t quite as dramatic as my fantasy, but it was enough to give me some hope. I decided to sit in the back of the church rather than taking my usual place near the front, thinking it would be wise not to stir things up just yet. This tactic seemed to be the right choice, too, because I actually got a few approving nods from some people sitting nearby. One woman even complimented my outfit—a first for me at church. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tone things down once in a while, I thought, if this were the kind of reception it would get me from the women who usually threw daggers my way.
T.K. announced that it was time for the altar call. Members were invited to the front to leave their burdens and heartaches there, and I decided it was time to make my presence known. I stood up and smoothed the front of my dress, preparing to walk down the aisle. T.K.'s eyes met mine, and a brief smile passed over his face. It was nothing earth-shattering, but it was enough to encourage me. At least now I knew that his silence didn’t mean he had forgotten about me.