The Ugly Side of Me

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  “Your truck?”

  “Yes, my truck!” I shouted into the telephone. “Your name ain’t on the papers. Now, what’s it gonna be? You choose.”

  There was a long pause, and then I heard, “A’ight. Let me drop Ivan off, and then I’ll be on my way.”

  I disconnected the call and redialed Malcolm’s number.

  “I said I was coming!” he snapped at me.

  “Go ahead and hang with your boy. You don’t have to come back tonight.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” he asked.

  “I needed to make sure that you and I were on the same page so there won’t be any misunderstandings.”

  “Yeah, we’re on the same page.”

  “Are you sure, Malcolm?”

  “Yeah, Rhapsody. What the hell?”

  I didn’t care that he was mad. “Good night, Malcolm.”

  Chapter 16

  Malcolm threw his cellular telephone on the backseat. “I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to deal with this crap,” he said to Ivan. “She acts like she owns me since she bought me this truck.”

  Ivan giggled. “She does own you. I told you to leave that crazy broad alone, Malcolm. By accepting this truck under her conditions, you just wrote a check that your junk will have to cash over and over again. You sold your soul to the devil, man. I really believe that you got yourself into something that you may not be able to get out of.” Ivan ran his hand along the smooth leather of the dashboard. “This is a bad truck, though.”

  Chapter 17

  Sunday morning I walked into World Deliverance Christian Center with my head held high. Even though I had a whole lot to repent for and ask God to forgive me for, I figured that no one else in the church was a better Christian than me. Just like me, everyone there had sinned and fallen short last week. In my purse was an envelope that held a check for my tithes and cash for my offering.

  I knew I was a sinner, and I made God work extra hard to keep my soul saved. I’d always paid more than the required 10 percent of my income. Between Sundays, if I wasn’t cussin’ somebody out, I was doing something I had no business doing, and for that God had to work overtime to keep me from going to hell. I made sure that He received the money I owed Him. I was never late with my payment.

  What I wasn’t ready for was the bishop’s whoopin’ and hollerin’. He could be a little long-winded. The bishop ain’t seen my face in the place in a while, so I knew when he did lay his eyes on me, his sermon would have my name on it.

  The vestibule was filled with saints, especially Sunday morning saints like me. The kind of saints that were holy only on Sundays. I could admit it. I did act a fool all week long, but on Sundays I tried to behave, but it didn’t always work out that way. Sundays were when I went to God and begged Him to change me, fill me with His Holy Spirit, and guide me in the right direction. But as soon as Monday morning came, I was right back to cussin’, lyin’, cheatin’, and fornicating. I couldn’t help it.

  “Rhapsody? Is that you?”

  I turned around and saw one of the many faces I had planned on avoiding. “Lady Felicia Clark,” I said and smiled. I knew she was already looking through me, as she always did. Lady Felicia was a bloodhound. She was gifted in sniffing out foul souls, and she didn’t mind calling them out. “How are you?” I asked her. I was hoping she’d answered my question and not read me, but I knew it was inevitable. Lady Felicia hadn’t seen me in about three weeks. She was gonna get me for sure.

  She took me into her arms and hugged me tight. Although I knew her embrace was genuine, I knew she was revved up. Lady Felicia let me go and looked into my eyes. “Girl, I ain’t seen you in a month of Sundays. What have you been doing?” She lowered her head and peered into my eyes. “Or should I have asked, ‘Who have you been doing?’”

  At that moment I felt my bladder betray me. A trickle of pee escaped. I literally had to use my Kegel muscles to stop the flow.

  “I know you, Rhapsody,” Lady Felicia said to me. “Whenever you miss a few Sundays in a row, you’re out there justa sinnin’ and doin’ all kinds of stuff that God don’t approve of.”

  My feet were glued to the floor. I couldn’t move to save my life.

  “Look at ya,” she said. She scanned me from the top of my head all the way down to my feet. Lady Felicia looked at me with disgust. “Just as speechless as the day is long. That ain’t nothin’ but pure guilt. You’re gonna sit next to me this morning on the front pew. I’ll tell the bishop to lay hands on you. That spirit of lust gotta be lifted from you.”

  Lady Felicia and I were the same age and had grown up together at World Deliverance Christian Center. We had even sung in the choir together as fellow sopranos when we were teenagers. But when she married the bishop, the Lord put a special anointing on her. Nobody could get nothing past her. She was always on point. If you had sinned and came into her presence, she’d know it.

  Nope. It ain’t gonna happen. I’m not sittin’next to you. “I’m meeting my mother here, Lady Felicia. I know she’s expecting me to sit with her.”

  Lady Felicia was a powerhouse, and I loved her to death, but that wasn’t the first time she had called herself putting me on punishment by making me sit next to her in church. Everyone at World Deliverance Christian Center knew that if someone was made to sit next to the first lady on the front pew, it meant that she had pulled their coattail and all eyes would be on that person. “I wonder what she did. Uh-oh. So-and-so must’ve done something awful. Wow, Lady Felicia got another one,” they’d whisper.

  The last time she had pulled my coattail and had sat me down next to her, she was in my face with an amen every time the bishop said something she thought pertained to me. That was why I had stayed away from church. I didn’t like being put on blast like that.

  “Sister Lerlean is working the usher board today. Sister Mildred Cox fell ill this morning and won’t be here. Your mother was kind enough to fill in and take Sister Cox’s place.”

  My shoulders sank. Darn. I felt like walkin’ back out the church doors.

  “Hey, Rhapsody.”

  I turned around and saw Kimberley Johnson. She and I had also grown up at World Deliverance Christian Center, and we’d been baptized together when we were seven years old. Thank God she’d shown up when she did. I needed a distraction.

  I quickly grabbed Kimberley and hugged her. I whispered in her ear, “I’m so glad you’re here. Rescue me, please.”

  Kimberley released me and looked at Lady Felicia. “First Lady, the bishop has decided to dedicate the infants before morning service. We’re gonna need a few towels.”

  Lady Felicia exhaled. “That man is always changin’ the order of service around. Are all the babies and parents in place?” she asked Kimberley.

  Kimberley nodded her head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lady Felicia exhaled and started to walk away; then she stopped in her tracks and turned around. “Go on ahead to the front pew, Rhapsody. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “You gotta be in the pulpit with Elder Clark today, First Lady,” Kimberley said to her. “The parents and babies are on the front pew this morning.”

  I let out a loud sigh, and I knew Kimberley heard me.

  Lady Felicia looked at me and sneered like a werewolf. All thirty-two of her teeth were exposed, and I knew she was disappointed. She really wanted to get me but couldn’t that day, and I was so grateful for that.

  “I’ll get . . . I mean, I’ll see you next week, Rhapsody,” Lady Felicia said to me.

  Not likely. “Yes, ma’am,” I sneered back.

  She turned and walked away.

  Kimberley giggled. “She had you cornered, huh?”

  “Girl, you know.”

  “Lady Felicia is gonna get you sooner or later.”

  “It’s gonna have to be later, then,” I said.

  “Where have you been, Rhapsody?” Kimberley asked me. “We’ve missed you around here. Why haven’t you been to church, and why haven’t you return
ed my phone calls?”

  In the past two weeks Kimberley had left me four voice mails, asking me why I had missed the previous Sunday and if I was coming to church the next Sunday. I shrugged my shoulders. “You know how it is, Kim. Life gets in the way. I get busy.”

  “Yeah, we all do, Rhapsody. What, you’re too busy to spend two hours in the house of the Lord, worshipping Him?”

  “Of course not, but the longer I stay away, the harder it is to return. But I’m here today.”

  Kimberley nodded her head. “You sure you ain’t here this morning just because the bishop is dedicating the babies? You’re baby Chantal’s godmother, aren’t you?”

  For some reason, I felt insulted. “I was gonna be here today whether Chantal was being dedicated or not.”

  “Okay,” Kimberley said, half believing me. “So, you’ll be here next Sunday, then?”

  “Probably so,” I said. Depends on how much mischief I get into this week.

  “Why don’t you get on a committee or join the adult sanctuary choir?”

  “You’re trying to get me to enroll in something that’ll require me to be in church every Sunday, Kim?”

  She chuckled. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  I shook my head from side to side. “Nah. I ain’t ready for that kind of commitment.”

  Kimberley looked at me pleadingly. “You used to be, Rhapsody.” She cocked her head to the side. “What’s going on with you? You ain’t been to church in a while, and you don’t even return my phone calls.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t have an answer for her. “Are Stacy, Trevor, and baby Chantal here?”

  Kimberley stared at me. She wanted her question answered. When she realized an answer wasn’t coming forth, she said, “Yeah, all the babies and the parents are already seated up front. And I know you just changed the subject, but it’s not gonna stop me from calling you.”

  She turned away from me and entered the sanctuary, and I followed, thinking to myself, Did this chick just check me?

  “Hey, baby girl,” Lerlean greeted when she saw me enter the sanctuary doors. She was seated on the rear pew, dressed in a black skirt suit and wearing white gloves, like the three other ushers who sat on the pew.

  I went to my mother and knelt to hug her. “Hi, Mama.”

  “I can’t believe you showed up.”

  “Why? I promised to be here, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve heard that promise many times before.”

  “Rhapsody? Chile, is that you?”

  I looked at the usher seated next to my mother, the one who had spoken to me. I couldn’t stand Sister Glendora Mayfield. She was the most gossipin’, finger-pointin’, neck-rollin’, judgmental woman on this side of heaven.

  There she sat, on the ushers’ pew, with that same old tired gray wig that she’d been wearing since I was in grade school. She had brushed that thang so much, it was thinning out. I swear, I could’ve counted the few strands that were still standing. The black suit, combined with the wig and the small wire-frame glasses that sat on the tip of Sister Glendora Mayfield’s nose, made her look like a mortician.

  “What brings you here?” Sister Glendora Mayfield asked me with a smirk on her face.

  What kind of question was that? What brought anyone to church? I came to church to worship, repent, and praise God like everyone else.

  I ignored her question. “How are you, Sister Mayfield?” I really didn’t care how her evil behind was doing. I was being cordial only ’cause my mother was present. What I really wanted to say to her was, “Don’t you have some bodies to embalm?”

  “I’m fair to middlin’,” she responded.

  I didn’t have a clue what that meant. “That’s good,” I said.

  “Are you gonna join the church this mornin’?”

  I looked at Sister Glendora Mayfield like she had two heads. That old denture-wearin’, Sulfur 8–smellin’, snuff-chewin’, thick-ankled broad knew doggone well that I was already a member of World Deliverance Christian Center and had been since I was a young girl. Heck, many years ago she herself had wrapped me in a towel as soon as Bishop T. A. Clark, Jr., had brought me out of the baptismal pool. So why would she ask such a dumb question?

  Lerlean looked at the expression on my face and chuckled. My mother knew that I wanted to cuss at Sister Glendora Mayfield.

  “Isn’t baby Chantal gettin’ christened this morning?” Lerlean asked me. She distracted me from letting my tongue loose in the sanctuary.

  I nodded my head. “Yeah. I’m looking for them.”

  Just then Anastasia tapped my right shoulder. “Rhapsody, wow. You made it.”

  Why was everybody so freakin’ shocked to see me at church? I’d missed only a few Sundays, maybe four, but darn, folks were acting like I’d been gone a year.

  “Of course I’m here, Stacy. I told you that.” There was hostility in my voice, and she picked up on it.

  Anastasia raised her palms in the air, as though she was surrendering something. “Okay, okay. Don’t get all crazy on me.”

  “I mean, seriously, what’s the deal with folks this morning?” I couldn’t stand church folks sometimes.

  “Bishop Thomas Clark is dedicating the babies before morning service,” Anastasia said.

  “Yes, I know,” I responded.

  She grabbed my hand. “Well, come on up front. Trevor and I saved you a seat next to us.”

  I knelt and kissed my mother’s cheek again. “Bye, Mama.”

  “It’s good to see you, Rhapsody,” Sister Glendora Mayfield said.

  I didn’t respond to her. I followed Anastasia to the front of the church.

  Trevor was seated on the front left pew, with baby Chantal lying in his arms. She was asleep. I saw four other sets of parents and babies seated on the front pew, as well, including Jessica Hampton and her husband, Fabian, with whom I had had a five-month-long affair three years ago. Jessica had never found out about Fabian and me. I was glad to see that their marriage was good and that a newborn baby boy completed their family.

  “Look who’s here,” Anastasia said to Trevor.

  Trevor stood and gave me a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. “We saved you a seat,” he said to me.

  That was why I liked Trevor. He wasn’t messy at all. He didn’t seem surprised to see me at church, and he didn’t ask stupid questions about why I was there. Trevor greeted me with respect, like he always did.

  “Thanks, Trevor,” I said.

  We sat down on the pew, and Trevor put my sleeping goddaughter on my lap. Chantal was beautiful in her white satin christening gown and bonnet, which I had purchased two weeks ago.

  I leaned over to my right and said to Anastasia, “She’s so beautiful.”

  Anastasia straightened out the satin bib around Chantal’s neck. “She was so fussy this morning.”

  “She’s probably hot and uncomfortable in all this satin material. Why do you think all the babies be hollerin’ and screamin’ on Easter Sunday?” I said.

  “I’m glad the bishop is doing this before morning service,” Anastasia admitted to me. “I brought her a change of clothes. Let’s just pray Chantal will sleep through the whole christening.”

  I saw the program director, who had been sitting on the front pew, approach the podium directly in front of us. She had to be a new member to World Deliverance Christian Center. I didn’t recognize her face.

  “Praise the Lord, Saints,” she greeted.

  The congregation gave a hearty “Praise the Lord.”

  “It is so good to be back in the house of the Lord one more time.”

  “Amen,” the people responded.

  The program director looked at all the babies dressed in their cream and satin christening outfits. “Bishop Thomas Clark has changed the order of the service. He’s gonna dedicate the babies before morning service.” She looked toward the sanctuary doors. “Let us stand and receive our bishops.”

  The congregation stood, and the organist played
soft music. I hoisted Chantal on my left shoulder and watched the elder bishop T. A. Clark, Jr., and his wife, the former first lady, Minister Patricia O. Clark walk down the center aisle. Close behind them was their son, the reigning bishop of World Deliverance Christian Center, Thomas Arthur Clark, whom everyone called Art, wearing a long white robe. He held hands with his wife, our current first lady, Felicia Clark. They were trailed by Ministers Marissa Clark and Charlene Clark, who were the elder bishop’s daughters. Behind the Clark sisters was a host of associate ministers.

  Elder bishop T. A. Clark, Jr., and former first lady Minister Patricia O. Clark, along with Marissa Clark and Charlene Clark, entered the pulpit and took their seats. Bishop Art and First Lady Felicia stood just beneath the altar, next to the baptismal basin. I saw eight associate ministers sit on a set of pews designated just for them, next to the musicians. Two other associates stood with Bishop Art and Lady Felicia.

  The organist kept the soft music going as the program director spoke into the microphone at the podium. “You may be seated,” she announced to the folks. After we sat, she looked at all the parents holding their babies on the front row. “Brother Trevor and Sister Anastasia, please bring baby Chantal to the bishop. Also, if there are any godparents here today for baby Chantal, please come at this time.”

  The three of us stood, and I carried Chantal, who still slept on my shoulder, to the baptismal basin. I attempted to give her to Anastasia, but she shook her head from side to side.

  “You can continue to hold her,” she told me.

  I thought it was a little weird for me to be holding Chantal, but I kept her on my shoulder.

  “Saints,” Bishop Art said. “The angels in heaven are singing this morning. God is pleased, and the enemy is mad. Why, you may ask? Well, because today we’re gonna give souls back to Christ.”

  “Amen, Bishop,” many folks said.

  Bishop Art looked at me standing in between Anastasia and Trevor. “It’s good to see you standing here, Sister Rhapsody.”

  I smiled at him. “And it’s good to be here, Bishop.”

  “Trevor and Stacy,” Bishop Art said, addressing them. “God has blessed you both with a beauty.”