Diary of a Mad First Lady

by Dishan Washington

  Darvin rolled over onto his side to face me. “Michelle, you know that if the devil isn’t after us, then that means we are no threat to him.” He sat up on his elbows to further drive in his point. “He knows where God is taking us, and he has waged war on us. We’ve just got to be strong and weather this storm.”

  I released a deep sigh. “But I’m tired of weathering storms. Every time I turn around, I’m hearing the same thing. You’re coming out. This is your year for a breakthrough. And to be honest, I’m sick of coming out. I want to be out.”

  “Baby, do you think that we’re exempt from trials?” He didn’t wait for my response. “Because we are not. We are just like every other Christian, but because of who we are, the warfare is stronger. Because we are called by God for His work, the devil’s assignment is to take us out, and if he can’t do that, he will try to get us to take ourselves out.” He rested on his back.

  “The worst thing we can do is give up now. You don’t have to tell me that you’re tired. I know that you are. I’m tired. But I have to keep pressing. I have to be determined to press on, no matter how much I don’t want to.” He touched my hand. “I need to know that I can count on you, Michelle. I need to know that you aren’t going to throw in the towel.”

  Darvin was unaware of the tears streaming down my face. Some of my tears were for Twylah. Some were for my own situation and fatigue. And some were for my husband, who sometimes didn’t know how to stop being the pastor. I knew that he was exhausted, yet he was preaching to me.

  As he kept talking, I closed my eyes and partially listened. There was one part of me that wanted to get excited about the trials we were going through because I knew that after every great storm, there is a great calm, a season of peace. A season of tranquility. But the other part of me was raging at the havoc in my life, wondering when it would all end. Just when I thought things were looking up, situations sent me downhill again.

  And the new issue with Twylah was an entirely different problem. It wasn’t so much that Twylah had broken into our house. My concern was if someone as close to me as Twylah could cause such devastation, what could someone who wasn’t as close do? People didn’t understand how hard it was for pastors to trust people. It was hard to discern when someone had your best interests in mind, or when they were just trying to get in your business in hopes of getting some dirt on you to expose.

  For Twylah to do this meant that I’d missed something. As hard as it was for me to trust people, somehow she’d gotten past my spiritual radar. I shuddered at the thought. Here I was focused on the enemy outside of the camp, when there was a mole inside of the camp all along. And God only knew how much damage she’d really done.

  “Babe, are you asleep?” Darvin asked.

  “No. I don’t think I’ll be getting too much sleep tonight.”

  He leaned over and put his hand on my stomach. “Listen, I know it’s hard for you to do, but I don’t want you to worry. I’m going to take care of this and make sure that you don’t ever have to go through anything like this again.” He rubbed my stomach gently. “We have a baby on the way, and I need you to make sure that you stay as stress-free as possible. I want you to get some rest. It’s not good for you or the baby.”

  I put my hand on top of his. “I know, sweetie. I’m trying. I don’t want to do anything to hurt the baby.” I allowed my eyes to close, and imagined our little one. “I’ve wanted this baby for so long, and I just can’t do anything to jeopardize this.” At that moment, the floodgates reopened.

  As if he could see in the dark, Darvin gently smoothed away my waterfall with the stroke of his finger. I savored his touch and allowed myself to rest in the comfort of the moment. For a split second, I allowed myself to forget about the drama and embrace the blessings that God had given on us.

  Yes, things were a little bleak in our lives, but God had still been good.

  And no matter what, I knew I had to survive this.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Michelle

  The Fulton County Jail was overcrowded with inmates and baby mamas. Staff members were trying to get a handle on the multiple situations that were going on. I felt a twinge of apprehension as I was being escorted to the room where Twylah was waiting for me.

  Darvin was livid the next morning when I’d told him that I wanted to see Twylah. But I explained to him that my need to speak to her to attain closure was something that I had to do. I had to try to get some sort of explanation to make sense of it all.

  The guard led me into a room where several inmates sat and talked to their respective family members, friends, and attorneys. Some inmates sat with looks of regret on their faces, and others with demeanors that could not be interpreted.

  My attention suddenly focused on a young woman sitting in the back of the room with a shred of light beaming on her sandy-colored hair from the slit in the wall too small to be considered a window. Twylah seemed so downtrodden, I’d almost forgotten the reason she was incarcerated in the first place.

  I squirmed as I felt my heart experiencing a tug of war. One side was pulling against her, almost happy to see her miserable in a place filled with criminals such as herself. The other side was pulling for her, silently wondering how she could be helped and released. The battle continued as I got closer to the table where she was sitting. The closer I got, the more I felt that my feet were in chains, making each step harder and harder to take.

  Once at the table, I nodded to the guard, thanking him, and slowly took my seat across from Twylah. She sat with her head down.

  “Twylah?” I spoke softly. She kept her head down with no response. “I know that you’re probably embarrassed by your actions, but I just want to talk to you.” I wrung my hands together as if I were squeezing water from a sponge. Realizing that Twylah wasn’t about to offer any words, I continued.

  “I’m not sure what happened last night, but I’m here to talk to you as your friend, not as your first lady.” I shifted in the metal chair that was provided for visitors to sit in. “I know that the person who broke into my home last night was not the person who I’ve come to know. So I guess what I want to know is . . . why did you do it?”

  Twylah lifted her head with not a single tear in her eyes or an ounce of remorse on her face. Without having to check my compact mirror, I knew that confusion was etched on my face. Here I was, sitting across from a woman who’d nearly tried to destroy my house, and she had the audacity to sit in my presence and show no sorrow?

  “Michelle—and I do hope that you don’t mind me calling you Michelle, especially since you came as my friend and all,” she said mockingly. “Matter of fact, I’m sure it hurt your Gucci-clad feet to even step into a place like this.” Each word was dripping with sarcasm.

  I was beyond appalled, and if it weren’t for fear of something in the trash- filled room flying into my mouth, it would have been gaping open. Did she just get sassy with me? I know this little heifer didn’t. “Excuse me, Twylah, but I really don’t think you’re in a position to take that tone with me. Have you forgotten what you’ve done? Who do you think you are?”

  “No, who do you think you are? Have you ever stopped to think that it’s not all about you? The sun doesn’t rise and set around what you want and when you want it. For more than two years now, I’ve been at your every call, doing this and doing that for you. And quite frankly, it’s gotten old,” she said as she gazed deeply into my eyes.

  Anger flared my nostrils. “Nobody told you that you had to do anything for me. You were the one who came to me and suggested you serve in that position when I was searching for some help. So whatever you did was done on your own accord, and not because you were asked,” I countered.

  “But the point is I did it,” she countered back. “I’ve been like your slave, and I’ve watched you live the life of the rich and famous, while I go home to my peasant lifestyle.”

  “What!”

  I hadn’t realized the inflection of my own voice. The sudden quietn
ess of the other people sharing the space with us made me look around, only to notice that people were starting to stare at us.

  “Peasant lifestyle? Twylah Andrews, I made you! I introduced you to some of the finest things in life, and you consider it peasant? Do you know how many women would love to be in your shoes? Would love to be close to me for the perks and the benefits?” I asked.

  “Until they realize that it’s just a bunch of hog wash,” she sneered. “I realized that I would never be you or have your life. I realized that all people would ever see me as is your adjutant. Your gopher. Your servant, as you love to call it,” she said mordantly.

  If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I was smack dead in the middle of a dream. Surely this woman was not sitting here acting as if she were the victim. “I don’t mean to add insult to injury, but when you moved to Atlanta, you didn’t have anything or anybody. I befriended you, helped you find a place to stay, had an associate employ you, gave you an extreme makeover, and then taught you everything you know about being a lady. And on top of that, I listened to those long, tired stories about your heart being broken.

  “And yet you twist your mouth to hurl insults at me? Tell me again how you are tired of not being able to be me?” The way I was rolling my neck, it’s a wonder it didn’t get dislocated. And I wasn’t finished. “Oh, silly woman, let me tell you something. You could never be me. All of the training in the world couldn’t have trained your polished country behind to be on the level that I’m on.” The remnants of my first lady demeanor vanished.

  “Polished country!” she shouted. “Who are you calling polished country? Without that MAC, those fake eyelashes, that expensive weave, and that Hooked on Phonics vocabulary, no one would want to know your name. On top of that, it’s because of Pastor Johnson that people even tolerate you.”

  I was laughing now. “Is that what you think?”

  “Oh, that’s what I know. Nobody likes you, Michelle. People think you’re conceited. And before you try to defend that, please let us not forget that I’ve been on both sides. I know the ‘real’ you.” She accentuated her point with her fingers symbolizing quotation marks.

  “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. You ain’t the little miss perfect that Darvin and the church think you are. Truth is you don’t even want to be a first lady.

  Think about how much you talk about how unhappy you are.”

  I interjected. “Twylah, you know that’s not true. Okay, so I get frustrated sometimes. But who doesn’t?”

  “Yeah, but every time we’re together, all you talk about is how this woman gets on your nerves, and how this member makes you sick.”

  “I’ve never said those words.”

  “Maybe not, but that’s what you meant. Nobody at Mount Zion or anywhere else will be good enough to meet the Michelle Johnson up-to-par list. And you know what? I’m tired of trying to live up to your expectations. I’m tired of living your lie.”

  “Living a lie? What are you talking about? I’ve never asked you to be something that you’re not.” She was obviously deranged.

  “But when I wasn’t what you thought I should be, you tried to fix me. I eventually forgot who I was.”

  “That is a cop-out. You didn’t know who you were when I met you. It was all I could do to convince you that you your life was even worth living. When you left North Carolina, you were dried-up and your man didn’t want you.”

  It was her turn to have the gaping mouth. I had not intended to bring that up, but she had pissed me off. Without knowing it, she was less than a minute away from having everything but blessings coming out of my mouth. True, I was a first lady, but I don’t know how many times I had to tell people that being a first lady didn’t mean you had supernatural powers, feelings, and emotions.

  “How could you?” Twylah said as she jumped out of her chair. The guard started toward our direction, and I motioned to him that all was well. I wasn’t worried about Twylah doing anything but posing idol threats. She was trying to boast a tough appearance, but she knew that hitting a pregnant woman in the presence of security guards would earn her more time in the pen than she’d bought herself last night by breaking into my home.

  “No, how could you? Did you forget that you broke into my home, destroyed priceless heirlooms, and are sitting here as if you did nothing wrong?”

  I gave my words a second to soak in. “How could you pretend to be my friend, when all the time you were jealous of me? Because if the truth be told, that’s what this is about. You’re jealous of me, and you’re blaming me for being privileged to have a blessed life.”

  Her irritation was obvious. “Why don’t you just leave? I don’t know why you came here in the first place.” This time, it was Twylah who shifted in the metal chair. “You want to know why I broke into your home, destroyed your prized possessions, and now sit here as if I don’t give a damn?”

  I jerked my head back once again, astonished at the actions of the woman before me. The Twylah who I’d come to know would have never so much as uttered profanity in my sight, even if she was thinking it. But the Twylah I knew would have never broken into my house, either.

  “It was quite amusing to have the upper hand on you for a change.” She smirked.

  Tears began to well in my eyes. I had no idea that Twylah felt like this. I really counted her as a friend. I thought about the many times that I’d helped her financially. I stood up for her when some of the members at church didn’t understand, and were hesitant about accepting her neo-soul style with the dyed afro and ethnic wardrobe. I even went against my mom, who would have preferred me to choose a more “suitable” assistant. I’d gone against all of my first lady friends, who tried to warn me that I was walking into a trap by allowing a friend-turned-church-member to be so close to me. I’d gone against the grain, and to hear these words from her now made me feel even more betrayed than I already did.

  “The tears . . . they aren’t cute. Besides, your makeup will smear, and Lord knows we don’t want that.” The words she spoke were as cold as a winter day.

  But my tears remained, and hurt was the force causing them to flow.

  “Why do you think I’m superficial, as you call it? Out of all of the first ladies that you’ve been introduced to by being in my circle, you know that I try with every fiber of my being to uphold my reputation, and maintain integrity in my position.” God knows that I’d done everything in my power to remain humble, even in the face of adversity.

  “Yes, you have. I’ll give you that.”

  “You know the expectations that are placed on first ladies to always have a flawless appearance, inside and out. But you’ve seen me on all levels, and you of all people should know that there are some things that penetrate deeply, with few people to understand. But again, you know this. How many times have we talked about this? How many times have I confided in you personal fears and failures? And now, you throw it back up in my face?”

  I noticed that the guard was approaching us. “Ma’am,” he said to me, “your visitation time is up. I’m sorry, but you have to prepare to leave now.”

  I looked up at the more than six foot guard and obliged his command with a nod of my head. I turned my gaze back to an unapologetic Twylah, gave up my efforts to get a better understanding of her behavior, picked up my purse, and stood to my feet. I took one final look at her, and when I concluded that I would never understand, I turned to walk away.

  “Oh, and Michelle?” she called out.

  I whirled around to face her.

  “What?”

  “Can you please tell Pastor Johnson that I’m sorry and really didn’t want him to get hurt in all of this?”

  This woman had some serious nerve! She was concerned about my husband’s feelings and not mine? If it weren’t for the vision of choking her, I might have seen the flicker of remorse before it was erased.

  I started to just walk away without even responding, but
I had one more question. “Twylah, why did you break all of the frames that held pictures of me and Darvin?”

  She laughed, and smoothed her tiny fro. “Because, what you and Pastor have together is as fragile as those frames I busted up. And just like the glass from those frames burst into tiny pieces, so will your marriage.”

  She smiled a smile that said more than her statement.

  I was fuming, and didn’t care to know what she meant. “Let me get something straight with you,” I said through clenched teeth. “I want you to know that no weapon formed against me, my husband, our baby, our ministry, or our marriage will prosper. So, while you’re getting to know your new neighbors in here, just think on that. And for the record, your threats don’t scare me, because God has not given me the spirit of fear, and, baby, when it is all said and done, I will be the one laughing.” I put on my first lady smile just for the heck of it, and proceeded to march out of the place of bondage—back into the free world.

  Once outside, I put on my Versace sunglasses and headed to my car more determined than ever to take control of my life. I didn’t know who the devil thought he was messing with, but if he thought I was going down without a fight, he was sadly mistaken. Raindrops would fall on his head first.

  It was time for me to dry the tears and put on my war clothes. The only way I would lose this fight is if they buried me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Michelle

  Praise and worship always had a way of taking my mind off of the things that I was going through. After my visit with Twylah, I’d been somewhat on a mission to take control of my life. I’d started reading my Bible again every day, praying harder than usual, and had started trying to figure out how I was going to move beyond my current circumstances.

  Being here in church, I was totally relieved of everything. I was in a place of total worship, and had no concern for what was going on around me.