Diary of a Mad First Lady (16 page)

The whole thing was draining. After the service, I’d personally gone to each of her family members and introduced myself. I told them how she and I had become good friends, and that I would greatly miss her.

And the truth was I would miss her. Twylah had been a good friend to me; at least that’s what I thought. Something still didn’t seem right with the attitude that she’d had the last day that I saw her, but I’d learned to accept what she said and count it as a loss. My memories of her were not all bad; some were good and would never be forgotten.

In the meantime, Darvin’s and my relationship was getting worse. We would practically go a week sometimes without much conversation—only saying what was necessary to say. I guess our troubles were starting to get the best of us. He went about his normal routine, and so did I. All of our talks turned into arguments, and it seemed that every night he had a meeting to attend, which, in my mind, was just another excuse to keep from coming home. He once even told me that he found more peace away from me.

So, instead of meeting the ladies for our Thursday night dinner, tonight, I decided to stay home, cook, and wait for Darvin to come. We needed to talk, and I didn’t want to wait another day. Besides the tension between us, there seemed to be something else looming above us.

Before I knew it, steam from the pot that held my rice was burning my arm. I quickly moved my hand, but the damage was already done. I rushed to the sink to put some cold water on my arm, but it did no good. After a few moments of allowing the cool liquid to soothe the burn, I went to the oven to remove the chicken. I’d made one of Darvin’s favorite dinners: cream of mushroom chicken with seasoned rice, broccoli and cheese, and dinner rolls.

All I had to do was make the lemonade and everything would be ready.

The phone ringing interrupted the thoughts I had of Darvin’s would-be appreciation for the home-cooked meal.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby, how are you?”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It read nine o’ clock. “I’m good, baby. How are you?”

“I’m okay.” Silence. “Um, listen, I’m not going to be home for at least another couple of hours, and I didn’t want you to feel that you had to wait up on me.”

Not able to hide my disappointment, I said, “Darvin, I thought you told me earlier today that you would be home by nine-thirty.”

He sighed. “I know, baby. I did. I just had a couple of things come up unexpectedly, and so, like I said, it will be another couple of hours.”

I was fuming inside as I looked at all of the hard work I’d gone through to make him a special dinner. “But, Darvin, I cooked one of your favorite meals tonight,” I whined. “I thought we could sit down and have a real conversation—without arguing. You know, like old times.” A smile turned the corners of my mouth as I said that, reminiscing about the conversations that we used to have until the wee hours in the morning.

“Baby, I would love to, but you know what I do. I’m a—”

“Pastor,” I said, finishing his sentence. “The whole world knows it.”

I slammed the pot’s lid down on the counter loud enough for him to hear.

He ignored my frustration and continued. “When things come up at the church or with the church members, it’s my responsibility to make sure that they are taken care of.” He paused. “Look, I will make it up to you, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay, Darvin. I’m tired of your excuses. It seems that when your own home needs tending to, you find another one to upkeep.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Darvin said with anger evident in his voice.

“It’s not supposed to mean anything. It means what it means. While you are off seeing to the needs of the church, the needs of your wife aren’t being met,” I huffed.

“Well, if my wife would take an interest in someone other than herself and her problems, then just maybe she would see that she isn’t the only one dealing with something,” he said.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“In your words, it means what it means.”

I hated when Darvin used my own words back at me. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been dealing with a lot lately, and so what if I’ve only been concentrating on myself? Shoot, after all I’ve been through, I deserve to act how I want to act. So what if my attitude was less than pleasant? What do you expect out of me? Do you expect me to always have it together and never get off track?”

“I just expect you to be you,” he stated simply.

Just as I was about to say something, I heard a female voice in the background on his end. Silence permeated through the phone lines as quickly as a virus could spread.

“Who was that?” I asked as anger began to swell up in me. I knew the voice of Darvin’s assistant, Felicia, and that was not her voice.

“What voice?” he said, sounding clearly disturbed.

“Please don’t play games with me. Now, I know I heard a female’s voice, so whose was it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Michelle.”

“So, now it’s Michelle? What happened to baby? You’ve been referring to me as baby this entire conversation, but now I’m Michelle to you?” I was clearly agitated. “Who’s there with you? And I want to know right now.”

“Listen, I don’t have time for this. Like I said, I’ll be home in a couple of hours, and if you need to get me, just call me on my cell.”

“Are you dismissing me?” I shrieked.

“Calm down. It can’t be healthy for you. Please. Let’s just drop this and finish it later. We’ve been arguing too much lately, and to be honest, I just don’t feel like it anymore. I’m tired. I don’t care where I go; I don’t fight with anyone else nearly as much as I do with you.”

“What does that mean?”

He sighed. “It means I need to hang up now. This is going in the wrong direction.”

“No, the only things going in the wrong direction are you and your secrets. Just simply tell me who she is and I’ll drop it.”

Darvin didn’t offer any more information as to where he was going or who he was going with, so I was left to assume that the woman that I heard was the woman who would be accompanying him.

“Okay. Have it your way. Matter of fact, don’t even worry about trying to get home in a couple of hours. Stay as long as you like. Dinner will be in the refrigerator, and I will be in the bed. Please don’t wake me.”

“Michelle, if you want me to come home, I will,” he said as if he were about to lose his best friend.

“I want you to do whatever makes you feel good. That’s what everybody else seems to be doing lately.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Look, we are both tense right now. Let’s not say anything that will further agitate the situation. And how will it look for the pastor to be agitated, especially while on duty?”

“Do you expect me to care about your agitation? You are purposely avoiding my questions, causing more agitation than you’ll ever know.” I paused for a second. “I don’t understand you. It’s like you’ll forsake everything, including me, for the sake of the church and for the sake of how people perceive you as the pastor,” I shouted.

“How many times do I have to explain to you the seriousness of what I do? I know that you don’t understand, but you need to figure out a way to deal with it. I’m a pastor, and I’m going to be until the day I die, so if you don’t like it, you might need to consider some other options,” he said coldly.

The eye wells had opened back up and were dousing my face.

“Be careful what you say, Pastor Johnson. While I know that you’re the pastor, you have an obligation to your home too. And when the needs of the home aren’t being met, the home might have to relocate and allow someone else to take care of it.”

Darvin’s laughter infuriated me the more. “Where are you going to go? Your mother’s house?”

If I could have reached through the receiver and socked him in the mouth, I would have knocked all of his teeth down his throat. How dare he insult me? “I don’t know who you think you are or what type of woman you think I am, but please know that my mother’s house isn’t my only option. Don’t you ever underestimate me, Darvin Johnson.”

His cell phone died after my statement, and after trying for several more minutes to reach him back, I finally decided to go to bed. But I had no plans to sleep. I watched several reruns of the
Cosby Show.
I had a doctor’s appointment early the next morning, but I was determined to stay up until Darvin came home. I was not done with what I had to say, and regardless of how tired he was when he got home, I was going to make him hear me out.

I heard the sound of the alarm and prayed that it was Darvin coming through the door. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand; it read 2:06
A
.
M
.

I felt my blood pressure rising as I looked from the clock to Darvin.

“Hey,” Darvin mumbled after seeing that I was awake.

“Hello,” I said cautiously, trying not to show my anger before giving him an opportunity to explain why his behind had been out until after two in the morning.

“I know you’re wondering why I’m just now getting home. And let me just say that you have every right to be.”

It was good that he was cutting straight to the chase; however, he was still going too slowly for me.

“Why haven’t I been able to get you on your cell phone? And please tell me where in the world you’ve been until this time of the morning.”

“First, my cell phone battery went dead right while I was talking to you, so—”

I interrupted. “And what was wrong with the car charger, might I ask?”

“I didn’t have it with me.”

I rolled my eyes in exaggeration. “I’m finding that hard to believe. You take that thing with you everywhere, especially since we found out that I was pregnant.”

Darvin cast his eyes to the floor. He knew that what he was saying didn’t make any sense. All of a sudden, I started getting this gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had never considered that Darvin might have been staying out and acting out of character because . . .

“Michelle,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “Before you allow your imagination to get the best of you, let me just say that I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“So, what did you do?” I asked impatiently, not caring to know anything more than that.

He sat down on the bed and dropped his head. I prepared myself for the worst. I had never been concerned as to whether he’d ever cheated on me, but tonight I was beginning to wonder. I didn’t have any idea what he was about to say to me.

“The reason I didn’t answer you earlier on the phone when you asked me who was in the background was because I didn’t know how to tell you.”

I was sure that my heart was skipping several beats.

“It was a woman by the name of Alexandria.” He hesitated before he continued on. “I’ve been helping her through some things.”

It was my turn to say something. “Things like what?”

“Well, I met her a few weeks ago when she drop-ped by the church office. She’d never visited the church before, and was coming in to inquire about the church and service times.”

“What?” He was impossible. “She didn’t see the huge sign in the church’s yard listing the service times, website information, so on and so forth?”

He released a breath. “I don’t know. Anyway, she came in, we started talking about the church, and immediately she was excited about what we had to offer. She then began to share with me some things that she was going through in her personal life, and I agreed to help her. It wasn’t until tonight that I realized at what cost.”

Clearly disturbed, I said, “Darvin, you have a big sign on your head that reads
stupid, stupid, stupid
. How many times do I have to tell you to stop being so naïve? You always fall in the same trap with the same type of women, who play the ‘woman in distress’ role, and it’s like you lose your head. I don’t understand you.”

“Michelle, it wasn’t like that. I really wanted to help her. It wasn’t until tonight that I realized that she didn’t want or need my help.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” he asked, confused.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her if it was so innocent?” I paused.

“Here I was dealing with all the mess I’ve had to deal with—needing help myself—and you, my husband, were off helping someone else.”

“Michelle . . .” he said, moving toward me.

“Don’t you dare touch me! I don’t want you to come near me,” I said, my breath so hot it could’ve been mistaken for fiery flames.

He looked defeated. Out of all the things I’d had to endure, never would I have imagined this. True, we had our struggles; we had our days of breaking up. Now, the man of my dreams, who I thought could do no wrong, was standing before me talking about the “other woman.”

“So, tell me, what did you do?” The next words were hard to squeeze out. It was like trying to get the last of the toothpaste out of an empty tube. “Did you sleep with her?”

“No,” he said somberly.

I exhaled a sigh of relief.

“But I’ll be honest. I can’t say that I didn’t want that at some point.”