The First Lady (16 page)

Eventually, I lifted my head and glanced about the room nervously, my gaze finally resting on the empty space where Monique had lain naked in my arms when we drifted to sleep. She was no longer there, and I was glad. I wouldn’t have known what to say to her if she were. On her pillow was a note. I picked it up and read it:

I put down the letter with a guilty sigh. Monique was already making plans for our future, but I couldn’t imagine myself ever moving beyond the incredible turmoil I felt right now. I tried again to push the thoughts of our lovemaking out of my mind, but my manhood wouldn’t allow me. I could still feel the effects Monique’s body had on me. My heart was stuck on the idea that I was a man of God who had given in to the temptation of the devil and committed a sinful act, while my body was stuck on the idea that I was indeed a man of the flesh who had wants, needs, and desires, all of which Monique had fulfilled like they’d never been fulfilled before.

I jumped out of bed and got down on my knees and began to repent in prayer: “Oh, Lord, my Savior, for the first time ever, I’m at a loss for words while speaking to You. For years I have prayed on the behalf of others that they would be forgiven for giving in to the sins of lust and fornication, instead of being obedient to the Word …” I tried to continue, but my voice cracked and shameful tears began to fall.

“Please, Lord, forgive me. And forgive Sister Monique for her transgression. It is I who am responsible for her loss of virtue. She’s a good woman, Lord, and I led her astray.”

I stood up and sat on the bed. I didn’t even feel worthy of being on my knees, begging for God’s mercy. Too ashamed to talk to God, I decided to reach out to the one other being to whom I could confess my sins. I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hello,” James answered.

“James, it’s me.” I was trying to keep it together, but the thoughts of me and Monique last night, with her on top of me … and me on top of her … Lord! I just couldn’t get those images out of my head.

“Bishop, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, T.K.” I didn’t feel worthy of being greeted as Bishop. “I failed Him, James. I failed God like I’ve never failed Him before.”

“What are you talking about? Matter of fact, where are you? This isn’t your number …” James’s voice trailed off. I knew he was checking his caller ID. In a moment, he was going to realize I was calling from Monique’s house. “Bishop! You’re … you’re at—”

“Yes, James, I’m at Sister Monique’s,” I confessed.

“But it’s not even eight o’clock in the morning yet. What in God’s name are—” His voice stopped abruptly. If I knew my friend, and I’m sure I did, he’d just sat up straight as a board in his bed. His eyes were now as large as silver dollars.

“Oh, no, you didn’t! Not after everything I did to set you and Lisa Mae up to kill that rumor. T.K., please tell me you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, James. I did. I slept with Monique.” I choked back tears, waiting for him to reply. “James, you still there?”

“I’m here, T.K. I’m just a little surprised is all.”

“Not as surprised as I am. I failed Him, James. I failed God. I’m no better than Jim Baker, Jimmy Swaggart, or Jesse Jackson, for that matter. I tried, but when the true test was in front of me, I just couldn’t keep it in my pants.” I broke down, crying and sobbing like a child. I’d never felt so lost in my entire life.

James tried to comfort me. “Come on, now, T.K. Just calm down. I mean, it’s not the end of the world.”

I wasn’t too sure anymore that James was the man I should have called on. Don’t get me wrong, he was my best friend and I loved him to death, but with the number of indiscretions he had committed, this was pretty much the norm for him. Would he truly be able to understand my internal suffering and turmoil?

“Where’s Monique now?” James inquired. “She’s not ready to tell the world about this situation, is she?”

“She had to go out of town for a few weeks to visit her mother in Mississippi.”

“What! And who said God wasn’t on your side? This is perfect.”

“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.

A
LISON AND THE
F
IRST
L
ADY

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.”

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.