by Carl Weber
I thought about how he’d copped a feel the first day we met, and I felt a little guilty. Maybe I’d led Aaron on in some way by not telling T. K. about his advances. But whether I did or didn’t, he had no right to presume I was a loose woman who cheated on her husband. Well, as flattered as I might have been in the beginning, this nonsense was going to stop right here and now.
“Oh, hey, First Lady. I was just leaving you something,” Aaron said nonchalantly. There was a good-natured chirp in his voice, as if he were doing me a favor. “I wanted to surprise you, but I guess giving it to you in person is just as good.” He tried to hand me the Macy’s bag, but I wouldn’t take it.
“Surprise me?” I repeated incredulously. “Look, Aaron, this has got to stop.”
He looked confused. “What has to stop?”
I took a breath and held it for a second before exhaling. “Look, have a seat.”
He sat in the chair in front of my desk, the look of confusion still on his face. This younger guy was good. He sure knew how to lie and play the game. Now it was time for me to let him know that the game hadn’t changed—and that I’d won a match or two in my day. I didn’t catch the most eligible bachelor in the entire church for nothing.
“Aaron, you can’t keep giving me gifts. They are totally inappropriate and out of line. I am a married woman.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It means you shouldn’t give me such intimate gifts. Like I said, I’m married.”
“You call this intimate?” He laughed this time, placing the bag on my desk.
“I don’t see a damn thing funny, Aaron.” He was really irritating me. This was a serious matter, and yet he was chuckling. “Every time I think about all the bishop has gone through for you, I get mad. And you’ve got the audacity to be flirting with his wife and sending her gifts.” I paused because I was about to lose it on this man. “Not to mention that the first day I met you, you couldn’t keep your damn hands to yourself. Don’t you feel the least bit ashamed?”
“Shame about what, First Lady? You’re the one who’s tripping. Ain’t nothing inappropriate about what I’m giving you,” he pouted, acting like he was the victim here.
I calmed down enough to ask, “Okay, well, why don’t we open the gift and see just how inappropriate it is?”
“Why don’t we?” he challenged.
I reached into the bag and pulled out a long, rectangular box. I was sure it was a piece of jewelry, perhaps a bracelet or a watch. And he didn’t call this inappropriate?
“I don’t know where this is coming from, First Lady. No of-fense—you’re a nice-looking woman and all, but you’re a little old for me.”
His comment hurt my ego, but he’d be eating his words when he had to explain to me and T. K. why he was spending his hard-earned money buying me expensive gifts. I ripped open the paper around the gift.
“I left a matching set for your husband too. I just wanted to show my appreciation for all your support of the choir.”
I lifted the cover off the box and looked down at a black-and-gold pen set. I wanted to shrivel up and die. The darn thing couldn’t have cost more than fifteen dollars.
“You gave one of these to T. K. too?”
“Yep. You, him, Deacon Frye, Tia, and all the members of the choir. Like I said, I just wanted to say thanks for the support.”
I felt my face burning with embarrassment.
Tia walked into my office. “First Lady, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I have to tell you, I went to the mall with Aaron. In fact, I helped him pick out those pen sets for you, the bishop, and the others. He just wanted to show his appreciation. He didn’t mean anything personal by it. I’m the one who suggested he do it. Sorry if you’re offended.”
“Oh my goodness,” I said. “So, let me get this straight. You haven’t been leaving me gifts before now?”
Aaron held his hands up innocently. “I’m sorry about you feeling like that, but no, I haven’t been leaving you gifts. And I never tried to feel your behind. It was an accident. I really did fall. You may have misinterpreted, but I’m not that guy. There’s a lot of things about me that I don’t like, and with God’s help I will one day change them, but I would never flirt with you or give you inappropriate gifts. I respect the bishop too much to do that.”
Usually I go off and then feel embarrassed later, but this time I felt horrible right away. “Aaron, I’m sorry,” I started, but he didn’t give me time to finish. He held up a hand to stop me, then got up and stalked out of the office. He was upset, and understandably so.
“Darn, I guess I put my foot in my mouth this time, didn’t I?” I sighed, looking at Tia.
“You sure did.” Tia nodded. “Big-time.”
I glared at her. “You know what, Tia?”
“What’s that, First Lady?”
“You don’t have to agree with me all the time.”
She half laughed. “I know that, but this time you really are right.”
“He probably hates me right now. You know I wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t so paranoid about those gifts I keep getting.”
Tia put her hand on my shoulder. “First Lady, I’m sure Aaron will understand if you explain it to him. He’s just a little upset now. He’ll get over it. He really is a sweet guy,” Tia said as if she knew Aaron inside and out.
“Oh, how would you know?” I asked.
“You’re the one who made me his babysitter, remember? Well, I’ve been babysitting him a lot lately. I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. Surprisingly, he’s a decent guy, a good guy.”
“A decent guy, huh? Sounds like someone’s been doing a little more than babysitting.” She shook her head to deny it. “Give it up, Tia. Are you hiding something from me?”
“No, we’re just friends. He’s cute and all, but I don’t see him that way. I never looked at Aaron in a romantic kind of way. He’s like a good friend or a cousin.”
“Kissing cousins maybe?” I teased.
“Sorry, I’m not about to go down that road.” Tia tossed her head and shrugged. “Mr. Mackie has enough female church members running behind him. I don’t intend to join the harem.”
Now that I thought about it, she was making sense. Simone had already proven that she was willing to do anything to eliminate her competition.
“You know what, Tia? You’re absolutely right.”
Tia
37
“Ladies, I know this session is coming to an end, but I really want to thank you all for coming out every week to share. And even for those of you who just come to listen, I pray that you hear something that helps you further along in your journey to survival. My prayer for you is that someday you feel so free amongst the group that you can openly release all the pain and fear you have bottled up inside. I know it’s hard at first, but it was in this exact type of setting that I first talked about my own rape.”
I believe in making eye contact with those I’m addressing, so I made an effort to look at every member in attendance as I spoke. I needed to make a connection with these women. Until my eyes landed on Aaron after I made my last statement, I’d forgotten that a man was, in fact, in the room. A man who, I might add, knew absolutely nothing about my story until now. That was evident in the expression that fluttered across his face.
Aaron and I had finished manning the phone lines, and I had a rape counseling session scheduled with five women immediately after. It was Aaron’s idea that he sit in on the counseling session, to kind of see me in action. He felt that hearing from the actual rape victims and survivors, he’d be able to better assist some of the women on the hotline. When I explained Aaron’s presence to the women, none of them had an issue with him being there.
“So, ladies, with that being said, I’d like to close out in prayer, and until next time, God bless you all.” I said a prayer, the women and I all hugged, and then we bid our farewells until next time.
“So, Mr. Mackie, what did
you think?” I asked Aaron, who hadn’t said a word in the last few minutes. Something was sticking on his mind. Of course, I had my theory about what it might be, but I’d wait for him to speak on it. My wait wasn’t long.
“Tia, why didn’t you tell me? I had no idea.”
“No idea of what?” I played along. Again, I thought it best for him to speak on it first.
“My God, that you were raped. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
I stared at him for a moment. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. That look right there.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Pity. That look of pity you’re giving me right now. I didn’t want that. I don’t want that. Not from you or anybody else.” I began straightening up the room, taking the few chairs out of the circle we had put them in and putting them back into their usual horizontal rows.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that’s the impression I’m giving.”
“Well, it is.” Anger was creeping in to some degree. I wasn’t angry at Aaron, though. I was angry for letting it slip in front of him that I was once that woman on the other end of the hotline. Now he was going to see me as some weak, fragile girl.
“Hey, slow down.” Aaron walked over to me and gently took my arm. “Listen, that look wasn’t pity. It was awe. I’m in complete awe of you. I would have never known you’ve dealt with such horror. I mean, you are one of the strongest women I know, Tia. I’ve always thought the most of you, but now I think so highly of you that it’s ridiculous. You are an awesome woman, Tia. You really are.”
I was so moved by Aaron’s words, and even more moved when he put his arms around me and embraced me. It caught me off guard—not Aaron’s reaction, but my own. Usually whenever a man tried to get too close, an instant guard went up, kind of like the first time I ever met Aaron. But not this time. This time it felt different. This time it felt good.
Oh God, what was happening here?
The Bishop
38
I walked into the church’s conference room a little anxious about the meeting I was about to attend. After conducting an internal audit, on my recommendation, Maxwell Frye had called a special finance meeting of the deacons’ board and the board of trustees. Maxwell hadn’t told me what the meeting was about, just that it had to do with the financial health of the church and that all members of both boards needed to be present. I did know he’d spent a lot of time with James the past few days going over numbers and figures.
After about fifteen minutes of pleasantries, I stood up, pounding my gavel on the podium. “Please take a seat. I’d like to get this meeting started so we can get out of here at a reasonable time. My wife made pork chops for dinner, and y’all know how much I love pork chops.”
There was a burst of laughter, and then everyone settled down.
“As most of you know, since Deacon Smith’s passing, Deacon Frye has been elected the new chairman of the deacons’ board, and he asked me to call this meeting. So, I’m going to turn over the floor to him. Deacon Frye.” I turned to my immediate right, where Maxwell was sitting next to me, shuffling through some papers. There was light applause, mostly from the members of the deacons’ board.
Maxwell cleared his throat before he spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, after visiting with our accountants, the finance committee, and the chairwoman of the board of trustees, I’m sorry to say I have bad news to report.” Maxwell paused to let the impact of his words sink in. “Our church is bankrupt.”
“Excuse me. What did you say?” one of the deacons asked.
“I said our church is bankrupt, and my recommendation is to file for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection.”
A hush fell over the room. To tell the truth, I was too shocked to speak. It felt like a nightmare. Just a year ago, our church was solvent. I knew we were in trouble, but not bankruptcy type of trouble. I would have to talk to Maxwell later about him not clueing me in to this problem before the meeting. I did not appreciate being blindsided like this.
Suddenly, everyone’s eyes shifted suspiciously to Simone; then they looked back at Deacon Frye. Quiet whispers rippled among those in attendance.
“What?”
“How is that possible?”
“What’s going on?”
“Where’s all the money?”
“Well, needless to say, we have to make a lot of decisions,” Deacon Frye continued. “We’re in about five million dollars of debt, not including the mortgages on the church and on the school, which are somewhere in the neighborhood of two and a half million. But according to what Trustee Wilcox has told me, we’ve missed several mortgage payments, and it looks like the lien holder is about to call our note.”
“Oh, no!” Voices rose up in consensus.
“Oh, yes,” Maxwell said in a calm, even tone. “We’re in financial trouble, and the only way out is bankruptcy.”
Like a tornado of disbelief, voices began to rise to the ceiling, and now everyone was looking at me.
“How could you get us into this?” one deacon shouted.
“Bishop, this is your fault!” another added.
Deacon Frye stood up, raising his hand to regain control of the room. “Don’t blame the bishop. He’s not the one in charge of our finances.”
Trustee Lisa Mae Watson stood up and pointed at Simone. “No, but she is.”
Simone looked at Lisa Mae. “Look, you try to keep track of a school, one hundred employees, ten buildings that are in constant need of repair, and hold down a full-time job, okay, Lisa Mae? No one should have to do all that for a measly five hundred dollars a week.”
“James Black did, and he never cashed one check from the church.” Lisa Mae folded her arms. “Can you say the same?”
Simone turned to me. “I don’t have to put up with this. I bust my behind for this church every day, for peanuts.”
Deacon Frye intervened on her behalf, though I was sure he must have laid into her when they met about this mess. “It’s not the bishop’s fault. It’s not Trustee Wilcox’s fault either. It’s all of our faults. We are all leaders of this church.”
“Here, here, Deacon Frye.” I stood, speaking up for the first time.
Maxwell was talking confidently, but I know he didn’t believe his own words. Just like everyone else, he blamed Simone for this fiasco, but it wasn’t going to solve anything to rake her over the coals. We were going to need her to get past this.
“We need to find solutions.” I turned to Maxwell. “Deacon Frye, what are we going to do?”
“Yeah, yeah. What about this great plan the bishop had about our choir making money?” Deacon Stevens piped up.
“You know the choir won one hundred thousand dollars in prize money last month,” I reminded everyone.
Someone in the group countered with, “Yeah, and Aaron Mackie got to keep fifteen thousand of that, didn’t he?”
I ignored the comment and soldiered on, hoping to instill some positive energy into this conversation. “They’re on their way to the Eastern Regional Gospel Championship in the next week or so, where they could win another two hundred thousand and a shot at nationals.”
Maxwell shook his head. “That’s just a drop in the bucket. We need way more than two hundred thousand, and that’s only if they win. What we need is time to rebuild the congregation and the offerings. The choir has started to prove it can help build attendance, but the only thing that will give us time is to file bankruptcy and sell some of our properties.”
“What do you think, Trustee Wilcox? Do you have any solutions?” I asked.
“We have an offer on the property that the senior housing is on,” Simone said. “It’s for two million dollars. I say we sell it.”
“Sell it?” I snapped. “You’re the one who talked us into buying that property for three million dollars last year. Had us clean out the treasury and school fund to pay for it! We wouldn’t have a construction loan if you hadn’t insisted we needed the money to build that place. Tho
se buildings are three-quarters of the way finished, and you want us to sell them for two million, along with the land?” If she weren’t a woman, I think I would have hit her.
Deacon Frye spoke up. “As somebody in the construction business, I can tell you that what we could have gotten last year for the property is considerably less this year. Although, Trustee Wilcox, two million does seem kind of low. Let me see what I can get us. Once we file bankruptcy, the sharks will smell blood and we might not get that much. We may have to strike while the iron is hot.”
I didn’t want to agree, but I felt I had no choice because our situation was so dire. Perhaps if I had been better informed before the meeting, I would have had time to come prepared with suggestions. But because I wasn’t, I had to trust Maxwell’s expertise. “Do what you can, Deacon. I’d hate to sell that property for half of what we put into it.”
Maxwell continued delivering more bad news. “I’m not finished. We’ve got a couple more orders of business. We need to repay our back debt. We owe a lot of people a lot of money, and they’re breathing down our necks.”
“What do you suggest?” I asked.
“We may need to sell the school to pay off some of this debt,” Deacon Frye said. “We owe the city and state a considerable amount for back property taxes, sales tax in our stores … The list goes on and on.”
“What exactly do you plan to do with the money from the sale of the housing property? Why can’t we use that?”
“The construction company has a lien against the property. That’s why they stopped working. Once we pay off that lien and pay the bank back for the construction loan, that money is spent.”
I looked over at Simone. Had she paid any of our bills over the past year?
“We need to give it some time. We’re moving kind of fast. First you’re talking about selling the senior housing property. Now you’re saying we may have to sell the school? That’s too much.”
The school was James’s baby. He’d invested a lot of his personal time and money into that place. It was considered one of the best private schools in New York. Losing the school would be a terrible blow to our church’s reputation—and mine.