Diary of a Mad First Lady

by Dishan Washington

  I continued. “I’m sorry for not saying anything before now. In hindsight, maybe I should have told you. That’s why I came over there earlier. I saw your gates open when I went to the mailbox, and decided that it was long overdue that I introduced myself as your new neighbor, so to speak,” I said, trying to make light of the situation.

  Darvin’s silence was making the atmosphere difficult to slice through, and it was making me nervous.

  “I had no idea that we were neighbors. I don’t know what I’m going to do about this,” he said as he put his face in his hands.

  I moved closer to the end of the couch that was directly facing his chair.

  “Why do you have to do anything about it?” I asked in a soft voice.

  He looked at me. Then he laughed. “Come on, now. How many times do I have to say it? Michelle isn’t fond of you. You are a nemesis to her, and could you blame her? You are the sister to the woman who tried to destroy our lives,” he said, sounding frustrated.

  I honestly, for a very brief second, felt bad about all of the drama that I’d caused him. I never stopped to think about the stress that it might have been causing him. However, my thoughts of pity were just as quickly erased with a flashback of Michelle standing in her door, waving at me earlier.

  “What do you suggest I do? Move out of my house so that your wife can be comfortable? Or would she like it better if I just moved out of the state altogether? Tell me, what do you want me to do?” I was heated now.

  “I don’t know what to tell you to do.” He looked as if he was contemplating his options. “I’m not suggesting that there is any easy solution to this. I mean, Michelle is probably over there climbing the walls because I’m over here. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

  “About what?” I said, hoping she really was climbing the walls.

  He looked at me again with those piercing eyes. “This is really hard for me. I’m torn because you are a member of my church who has technically done nothing wrong. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, but at the same time, that’s my wife over there. She has her own opinions about your motives. I don’t know what to do to fix this.” He stood up and moved directly in front of the fireplace. “I mean, I can’t ask you to leave your home. I can’t even ask you to leave the church, because then what type of pastor would I be?”

  Exactly.

  “Would you even consider asking me to do either of those things?” Time for a home run. “Do you not care about my soul, or me, in the least little bit?”

  I forced tears to form in my eyes. Judging from the look on his face, not only had I scored a home run, I had knocked the ball way out of the field. I held my breath, waiting for him to answer.

  “Of course I do. I’m your pastor. I care about all of my members.”

  Wrong answer.

  “What about just as a person? Would you care about me as a person even if I wasn’t a member of your church?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said as he walked back to the chair and sat down.

  “However, I think the best thing to do here is to ask you to just stay back. Don’t try to prove anything to me. Don’t buy me any more gifts or give me any more money. If you want, I’ll return the Bentley to you. And if you have an accounting of the monetary gifts, I’ll give that back to.”

  With every word, my heart was breaking in half. I had to do something and quick. “I don’t know what to say,” I said and dropped my head. This time I allowed tears to flow; something I never did. I was sure it was going to get his attention. It worked.

  “Please, don’t cry,” he said desperately. “You’ve got to understand the position that I’m in. I have no other choice. It’s you or my marriage.”

  I cried harder. “Why is your marriage so fragile that you even have to make this decision?” I lashed back. “Pastor, you need a woman who can handle things like this and women like me. You can’t have this conversation with every woman who poses a threat to your wife. If she was so sure of what the two of you have together, then why would she put you in this position? Why would it even matter?”

  I could see the struggle in his eyes.

  “I guess it’s different when you’re in her shoes. I don’t really know what it feels like for her to have to deal with something like this.”

  “I don’t know either,” I said, “but I do know this: I know that if I were her, I would cherish what you and I had,” I said with emphasis. “I know that I would never let anyone come between us, no matter what. I know that I would spend more time figuring out how to better our relationship than worrying about who’s trying to tear it down. That’s wasted energy that she could be spending on you.” I moved closer to him.

  “Pastor, I have never tried to disrespect you, First Lady, or anyone else. All I’ve ever wanted to do was show you that I love you. I knew it would be difficult, because I knew how hard it would be to live past what my sister did to you. But I kept trying. I never gave up on you.” At that point, I allowed myself to completely break down. I cried uncontrollably. “I just don’t know if I will ever be able to live here without being blamed for my sister’s sin.”

  Even with my head down, I knew that Darvin was staring at me. I could feel his eyes wandering my body, trying to figure out his next words; something he’d been doing all night.

  “I’m sorry,” he said remorsefully.

  I lifted my head. “Really? Hmph. Not as sorry as I am. I have tried my best to fit in. You know what, Pastor? I meant what I said at your anniversary. You have changed my life, even if it has been a short time. Your messages move me to my core, and I always leave better than when I came. I can’t imagine what I was doing before I started attending Mount Zion. You have been such a wonderful influence to me, and to think that I might have to give that up really hurts.”

  I cried so hard, Darvin reached for tissues that I kept on the coffee table. He passed me a couple of them.

  “Listen, you don’t have to leave the church. I’ll figure out a way to work this out,” he said, stroking my arm.

  Currents of electricity shot through my body faster than the speed of light. Every hormone related to desire was standing at full attention. I had waited so long for him to touch me in a loving, caring way, and had almost forgotten what I’d imagined it would feel like. It felt better than any daydream. I allowed myself to dissolve into his touch, and the burning sensation it caused traveled directly to my womanhood.

  “Pastor,”—I touched his hand as it slid up my arm—“that’s music to my ears. I could never leave your teachings. I don’t think I would make it. I know God sent me to your ministry for a reason, and since I’ve been blessing you, He’s been blessing me. Not only have I been blessing you, but I’ve been paying my tithes too. I’ve honestly seen God do some powerful things in my life since I started living by your messages.”

  He didn’t even realize that my hand was still on his, so I felt compelled to continue the ego stroking. “Pastor, you are an awesome, awesome man, and don’t you let anybody tell you anything different. I wouldn’t care where you went; I would follow you. Literally. I would travel across the country if I had to, just to be under your leadership.”

  Tongue tied, he said, “That’s very sweet of you. Thank you. Those words mean a lot to me.”

  “You sound surprised to hear them.”

  “Well, I don’t hear it all that much. People walk up to me and tell me I preached a great sermon, but it’s not often that people just lay it out the way you just did.” He paused. “Or shout the way you do on Sundays.” He smiled at me.

  So he had noticed!

  I saw him drifting into another place. He left a door open that I had to walk in. “Well, I’m sure First Lady tells you all the time.”

  He stared into space. “She used to. Lately, we’ve been through so much, I wonder if my sermons are really ministering to her anymore. She’s been through so much being married to me. Even still, she has always been my biggest fan. I almost expect it out of her,” he
said, looking into my eyes. “It’s just good to know that you’re touching someone else’s life. It helps me to know that my labor is not in vain.”

  I wanted to kiss him—the force of love was almost willing me to—but I shifted slightly, and the movement highlighted Darvin’s hand on my arm, and he removed it.

  “Your labor is not in vain. And anytime you need to hear or know that, you can always call on me. As a matter of fact, I hope that First Lady won’t mind sharing the cheerleading section with me, because when she gets tired, I’ll be right there to cheer you on,” I said with more meaning than he knew.

  “Thanks. While that is very flattering to me, I think it would be best if you lay a little low until I figure out how to handle this. I’m going to have a talk with Michelle again. I don’t think this is anything that the three of us can’t clear up. Maybe we can get together one night at the house and talk this out. I’m sure that Michelle just has apprehension because of what Daphne put us through. But I’ll talk to her. We’ll work this out,” he said, getting up to leave.

  I smiled at him. “That’s a great idea,” I said as I stood as well. We walked back through the kitchen to the living room. I slapped myself playfully in the forehead as if I’d forgotten something important. “Pastor, I know that you have to leave, but would you care for something to go? I have grape juice, water, sweet tea, and some apple juice, I think.” He looked as if he thought I was trying to come up with something to get him to stay a little longer, so I had to divert my plan.

  “On second thought, why don’t I give you something to take to First Lady? I have an unopened box of brownie sundae cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory,” I said, smiling and eliminating any shred of doubt that he might have had concerning my intentions.

  He looked toward the door, possibly knowing that if he didn’t leave Michelle might think something was going on, but maybe out of some sort of obligation, he surmised that the least he could do was accept my offer.

  “Oooh . . . that’s her favorite. I’m sure she would love that,” he said, walking back toward the kitchen behind me.

  I smiled. “And what about you? What can I get for you?” If only he knew what I meant by that question.

  “Nothing. I’m fine. I really do need to get going. We were sort of in the middle of something. We found out the sex of the baby tonight—it’s a boy,” he said proudly.

  I almost tripped over my own two feet. I’m sure he could see the blood boiling in my veins. Why did he have to bring that up?

  “That’s fantastic.” I tried to sound happy for him. It didn’t work. “Okay. I’ll grab the cheesecake and get you a grape juice to go. I heard it was your favorite.”

  I moved to get the items from the refrigerator.

  “I think I’m going to run to my room and get a gift bag for First Lady,” I said. As I turned around, I purposefully bumped into Darvin, sending grape juice flying all over the place and staining the white cotton T-shirt he was wearing. “Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “No apologies. It was just a mistake,” he interrupted.

  I hurried back to the kitchen with a smirk on my face, grabbed a dish cloth, ran some cold water on it, and tried to dab the juice from Darvin’s shirt. The feel of his chest underneath the cloth was sending hot flashes to the most sensitive areas of my body. I could only imagine what it would feel like to run my hands across his chest. And if I had my way, my little impromptu plan to spill the juice and get him to stay a little longer would yield exactly that.

  Darvin must have felt a little uncomfortable. “It’s really okay. If you’ll just get that bag, I’ll be on my way.” He took the cloth from my hand and dabbed at the stains.

  “Do you want me to bring you another white T-shirt? I would hate for you to go home with grape juice all over yourself. If Michelle already has a problem with me, what will she think if you went home like this?” I asked as I pointed to his shirt. “How would you explain that?”

  He looked at me, and I knew he had not thought about that. It wasn’t like it was a big deal, but he knew it would be to Michelle. He looked down at his shirt and back to me. “Is the shirt exactly like this one?”

  “Just like it. My brother left one the last time he was here,” I lied. The truth was, I had been buying small items and keeping them at my house, because I already anticipated the day that he would spend the night with me. I had underwear in his size, socks, T-shirts, pants, shirts, and a couple of hats, some shaving cream, a razor, and other toiletries that an overnight male guest might need.

  “Okay, well, I guess that would be a good idea.”

  I grinned. “All right, give me one second and I’ll grab that and the bag.”

  I rushed to my room to grab the items. While in there, I refreshed my makeup and spritzed some perfume on my neck and behind my ears. I pushed my bra up to make my breasts perk up a little out of my sweater, took a book from the nightstand, and hit the side of the wall.

  “Are you okay?” I heard Darvin ask from the living room.

  “Not exactly,” I said, sounding as if I were really hurt.

  “What happened?” he yelled.

  “I ran into my dresser trying to hurry back. I think I sprained my ankle,” I said as loud as I could. The living room was close to the bedroom, but far enough so that you had to speak at a decent volume to be heard.

  “Do you need any help?”

  “Would you mind? I can’t seem to move,” I said.

  Silence. Finally, I heard footsteps coming toward my bedroom. Darvin peeked around the corner as if the flames of hell would consume him if he walked any further. Seeing me on the floor, he said again, “Are you okay?”

  I laughed. “Yes, Pastor, I’m fine. I might need you to help me get up.”

  Just as I said that, his cell phone buzzed.

  “Excuse me one second. This is First Lady calling me.”

  I tried to smile, but Michelle really had bad timing. I was finally getting my way, and she was interfering.

  “Hello?” he said. “Hey, baby. Yes, I know. I’m on the way back over to the house.” Pause. “Yes. Well, in just a few minutes. Dawn fell, and I think she sprained her ankle. I’m going to help her off the floor and I’ll be right home.”

  He paused. “Michelle, please. What do you want me to do, walk out and leave her on the floor?” he asked, patience sounding thin. “She fell trying to get something for you.” He turned his back to me. “We will talk about this when I get home. What could I possibly be doing, especially across the street from my house?” He paused again. “Okay, like I said, we will talk about this when I get home,” he whispered loudly.

  He hung up the phone and turned back toward me with a half-crooked smile on his face. “Sorry about that. Let me just help you up so that I can be on my way.”

  He reached down and practically lifted me from the floor. I allowed myself to fall limp into his arms and enjoyed being carried by him to my bed, even if it was only three steps. He sat me down, kneeled to the floor, and examined my ankle.

  “I think you’ll be fine. I don’t think you sprained it either. I’ve had many sprained ankles in my college football days, and yours doesn’t look like one. Just wrap it up and you should be good to go.”

  The examination had ended too soon. That darn Michelle. “Thanks, Pastor. I really appreciate all of your help.” I saw the T-shirt that I’d gotten for him lying on the corner of the bed. “Oh. Here’s the shirt,” I said as I leaned over to get it. “Do you still want to change?” Seeing a little hesitation cross his face, I said, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with First Lady, and I don’t think I need to reiterate that you need to get out of that shirt before you head home.”

  He took the shirt from my hand. “You’re right. I’ll just go in here and change and I’ll be on my way.” He walked out of the door, but came back almost immediately. “Do I need to lock up for you on my way out?”

  I slowly stood on my ankle, not
wanting to give away the fact that I had not the slightest pain anywhere in my body, including my ankle.

  “I think I can get it,” I said as I hopped to the door.

  I pretended to stumble a little bit, and Darvin was at my side almost immediately.

  “I really think you should get back into bed. If you follow me all the way back to the front door, I’m not so sure that you’ll be able to get back in here without hurting yourself.”

  “That’s sweet, Pastor, but I have to go back in there anyway. I have to clean up that grape juice that I knocked out of your hand, and besides that, I haven’t eaten anything tonight. I am going to make a sandwich and then go to bed.”

  “If you say so. But let me help you at least get to the kitchen.”

  I locked arms with Darvin and hopped into the kitchen. The walk there put an image in my head of our future wedding day. One day we would lock arms and never have to part. And Lord, what a day it would be.

  “I really hate to leave you like this, but I have to get home. I’m just going to change this shirt. Can I step back into your bedroom?”

  You can get into my bed if you want, I wanted to say.

  “Sure. And don’t think anything of having to leave me. When you’re single, you get accustomed to fending for yourself. And I’ve been single for quite some time now,” I said as I smirked. I wasn’t single by choice. I was waiting on him.

  “You’ll meet someone. Just give it time. Your knight in shining armor will appear and you’ll forget about all of your lonely days and nights,” he said and disappeared.

  I grabbed the cloth just as the doorbell rang. I glanced toward the door.

  For the second time tonight, I had a visitor. And since Darvin was here, this other person was not welcome. I wanted to savor what few minutes I had left with him without being disturbed.

  I set down the cloth. The doorbell rang again. I was getting pissed. No one ever came to see me. No one knew where I lived. I hurried past the entranceway to my bedroom. I didn’t want Darvin to see that I was practically running, but I wanted to get rid of whoever it was so that I could get back to spending time with my man.