The First Lady (31 page)

“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.

“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 keeping 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.

His smile was also enough to bring me to my senses and make me sit down. What was I thinking? I couldn’t very well go to the front for altar call and announce my burdens to everyone. What would I say? “Please pray for me, because I just went through a very difficult false pregnancy.” No, I had just received a smile from the bishop and some friendly gestures from a few members of the church. I was not about to ruin that progress by going up there and sharing my business with everyone for their gossip fodder. I had made a good first step, so I sat myself back down and listened to other people unburden themselves at the altar. T.K.'s smile had already done more for me than any altar call ever could.

When services ended, I stayed in my seat while the church cleared out so I could talk to God one-on-one. With everything that had been going on, I had stayed away from church for too long, and I wanted to set things right with Him. I kneeled down, my hands clasped tightly and my head bowed.

“I have been through so much, Lord, and it has caused me to stay away from Your house when I needed You most. Please, Lord, forgive me for my absence and help me to understand the trials You have sent my way. You know my heart, and You know that what I desire most is the love of a good man. But if that is not what You have planned for me, then please give me the strength to move on.” I paused for a moment, considering the idea that maybe, no matter how much I wanted T.K., it wasn’t in God’s plans to bring us together. That would be painful for me to get through, but somehow I would manage. I always did, every time some man broke my heart. But this time, I didn’t want things to end that way. I decided to cling to hope.

“But if by chance my heart’s desires are part of Your plan for me, I ask for a sign, God, so that I will be able to recognize the way in which You are ordering my steps. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.”

I stood up and made the sign of the cross on my chest.

“Um, excuse me, Sister Monique …”

I heard the voice coming from behind me, and I closed my eyes to say a quick thank you to God. I turned around and looked into the eyes of the man I loved.

“Hello, Bishop,” I said warmly. He gave me that smile again, and I had to fight the urge to run to him and jump in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Sister Monique,” he said, “but I’m getting ready to lock up the church.”

Well, I might have preferred it if he’d said something a little more romantic, but at least he was here with me. God had given me the sign I prayed for, and now the rest would be up to me.

“I’m sorry, Bishop,” I said. “I was just in here praying, and I didn’t know what time it was.”

“I understand, Sister. I’m just glad to see you back at church.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” I told him, wishing I could tell him just how I felt. We were both a little awkward, so many things still left unresolved between us. But I couldn’t just blurt it all out, and I knew he wouldn’t speak his mind, especially not here in the sanctuary, where anyone could walk in.

“So, how have you been?” he asked.

“Okay … I guess.” I wondered if Trustee Black had told him anything about our conversation, but I doubted it. If T.K. thought I had been pregnant, it would have been written all over his face right now.

“Well, I’m glad that you’ve come back to church. I’ve missed seeing you here.”

“And I’ve missed being here.”

His eyes traveled over my body, and I knew that my pink dress had the desired effect on his memory. I watched his face as he fought unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. He cleared his throat and looked away from my body, but it was too late. I knew exactly what he was thinking about, and it encouraged me.

“So, Bishop, how have you been?” I asked. “And how is Sister Lisa Mae?” I asked boldly to test the waters. The mention of her name might put a damper on this whole reunion. Or, if I were right about his true feelings, she wouldn’t have much of an effect at all, and then I would know that I had a green light to reenter the competition for his heart.

“Oh, Lisa Mae … ,” he started, but his voice trailed off momentarily, as if he were quite sure what to say about her. He definitely wasn’t gushing forth with praise for her, and that made me a very happy woman. There was some kind of weakness in their relationship, and once I found out what it was, I would be there to tear things down. “She’s fine. Thanks for asking, Sister Monique.”