Diary of a Mad First Lady

by Dishan Washington

  A smiled had crossed my face. I didn’t know how to go about getting him ordained as bishop, nor did I know much about the church in Maryland, but his dream of owning a Bentley would soon be a reality. Church members did it all the time—bought their pastors and bishops expensive cars. To the man of God it was a gift; to the purchaser, it was nothing more than a tax write-off.

  I’d done some investing for the owner of the Bentley dealership in Roswell that proved to be insanely lucrative, and even after getting my share, he still owed me a favor. He was involved in some dealings that I happened to find out, and let’s just say that the price was high enough for me to keep my mouth shut. I would simply have to go down there, cash in my favor, give him about fifty-thousand dollars, and arrange to have it delivered on Sunday as a surprise for Darvin on his pastor’s anniversary. I’d already planned to have the name plate read BISHOP.

  I made the necessary call to have the owner meet me for lunch to discuss the particulars. This Sunday was going to separate the women from the little girls. While most of the single women—some married—were going to be bringing all sorts of gifts and alms, I was assured that nobody was having a Bentley delivered. Once I completed the purchase for the car, I would call the coordinator of the pastor’s anniversary and make arrangements to have a place to speak on the program. I would have to be dressed to kill—only Michelle, of course—and my walk to the front of the church would have to be even more tantalizing. This would be one Sunday when I would not argue with the usher about being seated in the back.

  I was becoming so excited about the upcoming Sunday that I picked up my Bible. I didn’t know where the scripture was found, but I did know that somewhere in there was a scripture that said, “Oh, give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good.” And good He was.

  Chapter Twenty

  Daphne

  Getting dressed for the pastor’s anniversary program was almost torture. I couldn’t seem to get anything right. I didn’t know why I was so nervous. Maybe it was because I knew that today would put me several steps closer to having my man. I couldn’t believe that my plan was working this well, even with the minor distractions I’d experienced along the way.

  The first thing that showed the condition of my mind was when I stepped into the shower and had forgotten to turn on the hot water. The cold water, along with the cool atmosphere, froze every particle of water into its place on my body.

  After I recovered from shock and got dressed, I tried to figure out why my legs didn’t fit into my pantyhose. After failing to succeed more than three times, I fell back on the bed in frustration. While it was my plan to make a late appearance, I didn’t want to be too late.

  I sat up, tucked my frustration back in, and tried once more to put on the pantyhose. This time I tried with more deliberate moves. I realized that I had been trying to put two legs into one hole. As petite as my body was, it wasn’t petite enough to put two legs into a space that was only meant for one.

  Laughing at myself, I put on my shoes and went to the body- length mirror to take one last look.

  Dressed in a black-and-gold Donna Vinci suit that had rhinestones that ran along the edges of a deep-cut collar and along the hem of the skirt, I looked like a million bucks. I had barely eaten anything all week so that the suit would cling to my body in all the right places. The black-and-gold Michael Antonio shoes that I’d bought a few years back were the perfect ending to a perfect story. My hair stylist had blended some tracks into my short hair, and the soft curls that she’d made fell gracefully down my back. My makeup had been applied with the skill of a professional, and if there were such a thing as being flawless, I was the epitome of it.

  The drive to church took longer than any other day I’d driven those same fifteen miles. Beads of sweat had totally consumed the palms of my hands, and even with it being the middle of the fall season, I had the air conditioning blowing generously in my face.

  I pulled into the overflow parking lot because the main lot was already full. I concluded that it was too far to walk, and decided to drive to the main lot to find a parking attendant who would be kind enough to park for me.

  When I’d first come into town as Dawn, the members of Mount Zion were hesitant to accept me. It had taken some time, but my recent involvement with them and the different ministries for which I volunteered had garnered me some respect among many of them. I worked tirelessly on my teams—always attempting to go the extra mile. After all, I had to do whatever was necessary so that when it was my time to become first lady, no one would have a problem with it.

  The parking attendant took my keys and drove away in my car. I walked inside of the church and could hear the guest psalmist, who had been brought in for the special day, bellowing out harmonious notes. I pushed on the sanctuary’s door a little so the usher would know that I was waiting to get in.

  He opened the door. It was just my luck that I got the same rude usher every single time.

  “Ms. Carlton, there are no more seats in the front. You will have to sit in the back,” he said sternly.

  I smiled and simply said, “No problem, Brother Charlie.”

  He led me to a seat in the next to the last row. I gracefully sat down and waited for the presentations to begin. I had not planned on listening to the sermon, but was focused on my well prepared speech. It was sure to rock the house.

  However, the guest pastor, Pastor Stanley Promise, was intriguing enough. He was so fine that if Darvin had not been the love of my life, I would have tried to see what I could find out about him. His wedding ring glistened under the stage lights, but that had never meant anything to me—at least not after my first encounter with one in college. I was low on money, and unlike my friends who had parents with money, I had nothing. I was a broke accounting major on the verge of being kicked out of my dorm when my friend, who was trying to help me get a job, introduced me to the manager of T.G.I. Friday’s.

  Dawson Phillips was one of the finest men I’d ever seen. He was nothing like those college boys I saw every day. He was a man. A real man with biceps and triceps that would cause any woman to fall weak. He was the man that held the answers to all of my problems.

  After a brief conversation with him that day, he hired me on the spot. I knew he was attracted to me, as I was to him, so a couple of weeks later, I found myself in his bed, and was there every opportunity I got. That didn’t give me a good reputation among the girls on campus (including my friend). Matter of fact, they labeled me a home wrecker. But I couldn’t care less. He took care of me, made sure I didn’t want for anything—until his job transferred him to another area.

  From there, it was one married man after another. Married men were much more fun than single men. Married men always gave the very best of themselves, and took the worst of themselves back home to the wife to deal with. But I wanted my own man now. And while some people say you reap what you sow, it would be different for me, because I planned to be the best wife I could be—leaving no reason for my husband to seek out another woman.

  I glanced toward the stage to the section where Darvin sat along with Michelle, the assistants, and other guests. There was a woman sitting next to Michelle who was no doubt this pastor’s wife, and she was almost as sharp as me. I wanted to meet her . . . one first lady to another. I could learn a thing or two from her. I wondered if Michelle personally knew this woman. She seemed too exquisite to associate herself with a simple woman such as Michelle.

  Pastor Promise’s message was on point for me. His topic was, “Don’t Let Nobody Turn You Around.” He went on to preach about how you must be determined to go after what God has set aside for you, in spite of people who may try to get in your way. And he was more than right. That’s why Twylah had to die. Michelle was the last person hindering me—and had been—since God had first told me that Darvin was supposed to be my husband.

  The pastor said that sometimes you had to be persistent so you could let the devil know that you meant business.

 
; “Amen,” I hollered, because the devil sure was standing in my way. In a big, eight-month pregnant way.

  When the sermon ended and the invitation had been given, I started feeling that nervousness again. It was almost time to make my presentation. I had purposely asked that the coordinator place me last on the program. I wanted everyone to give all of their little gifts, so just when everyone thought the gift-giving was over, I would stand and present Darvin with something that nobody had ever given him before.

  I listened to all of the presentations. Monetary gifts. Cruises. All expense paid vacations. Gift cards. On and on and on. It wasn’t until presentations started being made specifically for Michelle that I realized I had not even thought about her. Oh, well. It was the pastor’s anniversary, and she wasn’t the pastor. Besides, I didn’t care enough about her to spend one penny on her.

  Finally, I heard the announcer call my name. I sat still for a moment, making my appearance even more dramatic, then stood and walked down the center aisle in complete runway fashion. I could feel the stares bouncing off every inch of my body. I smiled at the apparent attention I was getting. I couldn’t have imagined this moment to be any better. I went to the stage, took my place behind the podium, and picked up the microphone.

  “First giving honor to God, who’s the head of my life. I give honor to my pastor, our first lady, the deacons, the deaconesses, all of the leaders of the church, and to everyone who makes us this beautiful sea of flowers in God’s sight. Church, we serve an awesome God!” I said in typical church fashion, and waited for the applause of the audience to die down before I continued. “Today is a special day as we celebrate our pastor’s anniversary. And though we should celebrate him each and every day, this is the day that we have set aside to honor him. And his wife,” I said as I looked over at Michelle for good measure, because nothing else I said would have anything to do with her.

  “So, I prayed and I asked God what He would have me do for my man of God. Amazingly, God did speak to me, and He gave me clear instructions. You see, God gave me special insight to be able to know what the desire of my pastor’s heart was. He allowed me the ability to see those secret things that nobody knew about; those things that had not been spoken.”

  I looked over in Darvin’s direction and could see that he was totally taken aback. The expression on his face showed a perfect mix of confusion and anticipation. On the other hand, Michelle’s appearance was too complex to describe. It was a mixture of anger, disgust, and ugliness.

  “So, today, I stand before all of you, humble, yet grateful for the ability to present to my pastor—a man who I’ve watched, who gives so much of himself, yet receives so little; a man who lives the life that he preaches, and walks the walk that he talks.” I paused for a second. The crowd had begun to clap once again. I shifted my gaze to Darvin. “The man who forgave the sins of my sister and demonstrated the love of God by accepting me into his flock. The man who has made the biggest impact in my life with the sermons that he preaches—life-changing sermons, at that. Can I get a witness, church?” The church chimed in their agreements.

  “So, as a symbol of my gratitude, and as a token of my love, I would ask that the church stand with me today and give honor to our chosen vessel, as I present to him the keys to a 2007 Bentley Continental GT coupe.”

  Before I could get anything else out of my mouth, the church was blanketed with oohs and ahhs, whistles, and cheers. I grinned like a schoolgirl, loving every second of it.

  Darvin’s shock was worth every dime I’d spent. The stare that Darvin gave me was one that I knew would tie our souls together. Forever. It was as if no one else was in the room but us.

  Finally, the crowd settled down. “Just to give you an idea of the exquisiteness of this car, I would like to provide you a few details. The Bentley Continental GT coupe is unlike any sports car on the road. In case you’re wondering what that means, it simply means that it’s a real nice car.”

  That statement garnered light chuckles from the audience.

  “The last thing I want to say to Pastor is, I don’t know where God is going to take you in your life, but I’m sure I have some people here who would agree with me in saying that the office of bishop is somewhere in your future.” The hand claps came again. Some even stood. Boy, did this feel good. “So, I took the liberty of prophetically having your nameplate ordered with the title BISHOP on it.”

  Every person, minus Michelle and the guest pastor’s wife, was standing on their feet. I smiled as I looked around at the same congregation who’d turned me away as Daphne, but today was embracing me as Dawn. My eyes focused back on Darvin as I tried to will my shaking legs to move and take him the keys. Thankfully, Darvin was headed toward me and I didn’t have to move.

  He walked up to me, gave me a hug, and whispered in my ear, “Thank you so much. I will never in my life forget this day.”

  I smiled, all the while looking in the eyes of a very angry Michelle. She could have spit fire at me and drowned me in hell’s flames. It’s been proven that a certain percentage of all human language was non-verbal, so she and I underwent an eye argument briefly, with my last statement being, “Top that!”

  Darvin took his place at the podium after the announcer said no more presentations were listed and that his new car was parked out in front of the church. I had to ask her to announce that because when Darvin put his arms around me, all rationale, all five of my senses, and my brain quit working.

  “Church, I feel overwhelmed. I’m elated today that you all have shown so much love to me and my wife. I feel as if I’m not worthy to receive such honor, but I certainly am not turning any of it down,” he said between a laugh. “I must say that I’m astonished by the last presentation. Now, I know that Mount Zion takes care of me very well, but, Ms. Carlton, if you only paid the down payment for this car, then Mount Zion is going to have to give me a raise so I can afford the payments.” More laughter followed his comment.

  I took this as an opportunity to turn around and respond before finishing my walk back to my seat. “No, Pastor.” One of the ministers brought a microphone to where I was standing. “Silly me, I failed to mention that I have the title right here in my hand. It’s yours . . . no money owed.”

  I was definitely going to get accustomed to the adoration by the church, because once again people were on their feet, clapping for me. I continued to walk to my seat as some people stopped me for a hug or to shake my hand.

  Wow. If presenting the pastor with a Bentley awarded me this much attention, I wondered what they would say when I wrote out that big check to cover a large portion of the expenses to build the new Family Life Center.

  “Ms. Carlton, I want you to know that I will cherish this gift for the rest of my life, and I do thank you for being so generous. Church, she was right. It has been a desire of my heart to own a Bentley, and I’m grateful that God has sent somebody to fulfill that desire. Touch your neighbor and tell your neighbor, ‘Don’t hate on Pastor.’ ” The church did as he asked. “Touch your other neighbor and tell them, ‘Don’t hate on Ms. Carlton.’ ” Once again the church responded accordingly.

  My heart was about to explode from the joy I felt.

  Instead of walking back to my seat, I walked right out of the door. My work was done. I wanted Darvin to enjoy his day free of any drama, other than what I had surely caused.

  After making my way to the foyer, I turned around when I heard someone call my name.

  “Daphne?” a male voice called.

  Before I thought any better, I had already turned around.

  “Yes?”

  Standing a few feet away from me in the corner next to the church’s bookstore was a tall, handsome man that I remembered seeing at church once before.

  I put on my million-dollar smile, trying to mask the nervousness I felt.

  He called me Daphne. Worse than that, I acknowledged it. I tried to dismiss the feeling; it was probably an honest mistake. After all, people thought we were t
wins. Besides, I was sure he must have wanted to talk to me about my high-dollar presentation.

  I seductively walked over to his direction. Sure, Darvin was my goal, but I didn’t have to stop flirting until I was officially Mrs. Darvin Johnson.

  The man eased out into better view. The look on his face was anything but pleasant, and for some reason, my heart began racing along with the fluttering in my stomach. It was at that moment that I realized that this man could possibly know who I was. It was a chance that he knew the real me.

  “So, you are Daphne Carlton? And Dawn Carlton . . .” He shook his head in disgust. “Well, well, well. You don’t look so tough now. Matter of fact, you look downright scared.” He moved closer to me. He was extremely intimidating, even for someone like me.

  “Um, I answered to Daphne because I always do,” I answered nervously.

  “She’s my sister, and she and I get that all of the time.” I made a gesture with my hand that waved away the notion I was indeed one in the same.

  He caught my hand in mid-air with a choking grip. “Don’t play with me, Daphne,” he said in a deep, husky voice. “If you cooperate with me, no one will get hurt. If you don’t, then I’m not responsible if Mount Zion’s new prized member comes up missing.”

  Terror had to be showing in my eyes, because it was occupying every space in my body. “I . . . I don’t understand. What do you want? Money?” I stammered.

  “No, I don’t need your money. I wouldn’t want your filthy money if I was a homeless man living under a bridge downtown.”

  I squirmed until my hand was out of his grip. I was getting upset. What did he want? “Well, what can I do for you, Mister—oh, I’m sorry, you didn’t tell me your name,” I said sarcastically.

  He dropped his head in laughter. “You are a sad, sad woman, Daphne Carlton,” he said as his eyes bore into mine. “Who I am is your worst nightmare. Who I am is the only person in this church who could expose you for who you really are.”