Diary of a Mad First Lady

by Dishan Washington

  Actually, being his wife was easy. I couldn’t understand why Michelle had ever complained. The only problem I ran into was in the person of Sabrina, Michelle’s assistant. She had a tendency to pounce on my last nerve. We had a brief argument one day when she accused me of trying to take her first lady’s place. She treated me as if I had already fired her, which was going to be the first thing on my agenda as the official, new first lady.

  I hadn’t interfered with Darvin too much because I knew that he was going through a stressful time with his son being born premature. Quite frankly, I didn’t care about the baby; however, I was concerned about him, being it was his first child.

  I wasn’t particularly overjoyed when everyone at church was shouting about how the baby had pulled through the crisis, because I didn’t want Darvin tied to Michelle for the rest of his life. I didn’t feel like having to deal with baby mama drama. She was sure to make our lives a living hell.

  Other than that, all else was well. Darvin was planning to come to the church tonight for a meeting that I had set up. I’d told his assistant to block two hours of his time so I could speak with him concerning some ministry ideas that I had, and to give him updates about what I’d done since Michelle had been gone.

  He had come to the office one day, and I stopped him on his way out and told him that I had heard about what happened and would step up and take over Michelle’s duties while she was away. Interestingly enough, he didn’t object, and I had not gotten a call from her signaling her displeasure. So, I did what I said: I took over.

  That showed me that he indeed trusted me and didn’t see me as a threat, but an asset. I planned to be just that, so he would see that I was capable of handling the role.

  In the times when I happened to think about them going and coming with the baby, I would get a little troubled, but I would quickly dismiss those thoughts, for it was only normal for him to want to be close to his son. I was sure that Michelle was only tolerating him at this point. I had won. The game was over.

  I went into the restroom of the guest office where I had been working at the church, and reapplied my lipstick. Darvin was set to be in the conference room in five minutes. I planned to be early with my reports, ready to present to him. I smoothed my hair, checked my teeth for smudges of misplaced lipstick, dabbed a little perfume on my pressure points, and headed out to meet my man. I had ordered take-out from The Pecan, one of his all-time favorite restaurants in East Point, and had it waiting for him.

  I entered the conference room and set my folder on the wooden executive table. I checked the food order for accuracy, pulled his chair out so that all he had to do was sit down, and went to wait on him by the floor-length windows that flanked the oversized conference room.

  I stood there for so long, daydreaming about the journey I was about to begin, that I didn’t realize that Darvin was more than fifteen minutes late. He was a very prompt person, and if he was ever late for anything, it was because something was wrong.

  My heart sped up, and I stepped outside to ask Sabrina if she had heard from him. Of course, the little wench wouldn’t have told me if she had, so I stepped back inside. Darvin’s assistant, Ann, had taken the week off, so I couldn’t ask her. I contemplated calling his cell phone, something that I had not done since moving back. As Daphne, I used to call it at least once a day for one reason or another.

  I paced the floor until finally I decided to walk over to the place where I set my things down to get my cell phone from its case. I scrolled down my new BlackBerry’s contact list until I got to his number. I dialed, and it went directly to his voicemail. I looked over at the steak dinner that was rapidly getting cold. My one mind told me to call his house to see if he was okay, but I knew Michelle would have a darn fit if I did that.

  I tapped my fingers on my arms that were now crossed over my chest. I didn’t know whether to be mad or worried.

  The knock on the door stopped my thoughts.

  “Sorry for disturbing whatever meaningless things you’re doing,” Sabrina said. “You have a call holding on line three.” She then walked out of the door.

  I raced to the phone, sure that it was Darvin. “Hello?” I said.

  “Dawn, hey, this is Pastor. How are you today?” he asked, chipper as ever.

  I glanced down at my watch. He was now twenty minutes late. “I’m good, Pastor. How are you?”

  “I’m well, thank you. Listen, Sabrina told me you were waiting on me. I apologize, but I’m not going to be able to make our meeting today.”

  “But, Pastor, I already have your lunch waiting. I ordered a steak dinner from one of your favorite little spots,” I said, trying to convince him to come anyway. “And also, I have a ton of things to go over with you.”

  “I see. Well, I’m not going to be able to make it. Something more important has come up.”

  I raised an eyebrow. What could be more important than discussing matters of the church? I’d spent all of my time preparing to accept this role as his wife knowing that with it came hectic hours. That was why I decided to get involved, so that our hours would intertwine.

  “Wow, that’s interesting, Pastor. I haven’t ever known you to miss a meeting unless it was a matter of life and death.” I paused. “Is it a matter of life and death?” I asked, agitated.

  “No. Everything is fine. I just decided to take a day off and spend it with the family.”

  “In the middle of the week?” I snapped.

  He chuckled. “Yes. In the middle of the week. If I had any sense at all prior to now, I would have spent more time with my wife instead of at that church. Whatever is pressing can—no—will have to wait until later. Life is just too short, Dawn.”

  I heard the sounds of his son cooing in the background. I was livid at the thought of him having family time with anyone other than me. Michelle was supposed to be on a fast track to being history, yet he was spending the day with her? I didn’t understand. I was sure that things were over between them. Then I thought, men get sensitive about their kids, especially boys. Maybe it was the baby. Maybe the baby was the thing keeping them together. I began to wonder what would happen if the baby didn’t exist.

  “Okay, um, I’ll just have to reschedule,” I said with disappointment lacing my voice. “Do you think we can get together before the end of the week?” I asked, holding on for any sign of hope.

  “I don’t know. I’m considering taking off the entire week.”

  What had Michelle done to him? He sounded as if he had been brainwashed. Spending time with the family? What kind of hogwash was that?

  “Well, all right. You enjoy your day, and I will push this aside to a later time.”

  “Okay, you have a blessed one,” he said before he hung up.

  I was standing in complete shock with the receiver in my hand. Had I been so secure in my plan that I’d forgotten to account for setbacks? For this was certainly a setback, and one that I had not expected.

  I slammed the phone back onto its cradle, wheeled around on my heels, went and stuffed the lunch I’d bought back into the bag, and held it up over my head for a dramatic slam dunk into the trashcan. I grabbed my purse and stomped out of the door. I practically sprinted past Sabrina, because I knew she was waiting to gloat in my face.

  Darvin had greatly disappointed me, and on top of that, my heart was hurting. I’d done everything that I could to prove my love to him, and it was almost as if he didn’t care. I was trying to ignore the anger that was becoming apparent, but it was overriding the normal feelings that I felt for him.

  As I walked to my car, I became more and more upset. I thought about all of the changes that I had gone through to be with him. The changing of identities. The endurance of people judging me. The ridiculous amount of money that I’d spent . . . all for him. And he had the nerve to dismiss me as if I were nothing.

  By the time I got to my car, I was in tears. How could he do this to me? This was not the man that I’d fallen in love with. He had eagerly
taken my gifts. He had, although with slight hesitation, allowed me into his life. Had I loved him in vain?

  I beat my steering wheel until my hands hurt. I cried and cried until my heart was sick. I cried because once again, it looked as if my desires were slipping through my hands. Once again, it seemed as if what I wanted didn’t matter. Why was it that every time I got almost to my finish line, it moved? Why was it when I got heaven in my view, hell’s flames blazed on top of it?

  How do you heal a broken heart?

  I concluded that there was only one way to do it.

  With revenge.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Daphne

  A week had fizzled by since Darvin had cancelled our meeting. While he had taken the time to spend with his little family, I had taken that time to get my strategy back together.

  I had decided that I was no longer going to allow myself to be defeated. Michelle had obviously done something to him. He was acting too strange. That could only mean one thing: It was time to get rid of Michelle. If she thought her life was hell now, my new plan would have her living there—permanently.

  If she thought she was going to flounce around me, brag about her perfect marriage, her perfect son, her perfect church, and go on about how good God had been to her, then she had fallen and bumped any good sense she possessed out of her head.

  Tonight, she was making an appearance at the church for the first time since having her baby. My plan was rock solid. It was sure to work. Soon, I would smell the sweet fragrance of victory.

  People were scurrying around, getting ready for the one-night revival we were having. The guest choir had already moved into place, and I took my seat on the second row, as I had for the last month or so. I didn’t even worry about making an entrance.

  The sanctuary was filling up quickly as the guest choir began to sing a praise song. The people who were already there rose to their feet and rocked or swayed to the beat of the music. Some sang along.

  I clapped my hands off beat, my attitude evident. I went along with the service. I did the normal things. My body was there, but my heart wasn’t. Once my mission was over, Darvin and I would be going on a vacation; I had made the final arrangements a day ago. I booked us a seven day retreat at a resort in the U.S. Virgin Islands. I had arranged every detail, and it all related to relaxation, because by the time it was all said and done, we would both be exhausted, and would need the rest.

  Not to mention, Solomon Andrews had been popping up in unexpected places, attempting to terrorize me. He would make his presence known, but wouldn’t utter a word. The bookstore. The grocery store. The church. It didn’t matter; he was there. Each time, he bore holes into me, and each time put more fear into me. I had to figure out a way to get rid of him, too, but first things first.

  Michelle had to go.

  Darvin, Michelle, Chanice, and the baby made their appearance on stage, as everyone stood to clap.

  “Boy, do we miss seeing her around here,” a woman next to me said.

  “I know that’s right. Things haven’t been the same since she’s been gone. Pastor hasn’t even preached the same,” another woman said.

  “I know. It just looks right to see the two of them together,” the first woman replied back.

  They both nodded their heads in approval when Darvin kissed Michelle on the cheek and went to take his position at the podium.

  I wanted to go up there and wipe the residue of happiness off her face. I was sick of her to the utmost.

  “Praise the Lord, church!” Darvin shouted. The church responded in typical fashion. “God is good tonight. Can I get just one witness to testify that God is good?” he asked. Several people stood, agreeing that God had been good to them. “Tonight is a special night. I stand before you this evening a different man. For so long, too long, I’ve put this church and the needs of this church before my own wife and family. But this recent ordeal that I’ve been through has taught me that life is too short to take for granted.” A thunderous applause followed that statement. He continued. “So tonight, I ask for your forgiveness because I’ve gotten the biblical order out of order. God established the family before he established the church, and going forward, we are going to honor the institution of family more here at Mount Zion.” Once again the claps came.

  “A lot of the reason the body of Christ is paralyzed is because we have leaders standing up in the pulpit, and home ain’t right. The Bible clearly states in I Timothy 3:5 that if a man know not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the house of God? Pastors are falling day by day, because we refuse to stop and deal with the necessities. We refuse to stop majoring in the minors, and instead focus on what’s important, in prospective order.

  “But I’m changed, church! I’ve had a Damascus Road experience like Saul did in the book of Acts, and I, like Saul, have been brought down to my knees. I stand before you tonight a whole man. A better husband. A better pastor.”

  People were standing to their feet, shouting their amens. Once it had settled down, he continued. “So please help me welcome my wife and my new son to the podium.”

  Michelle held their baby as she walked to the podium, and once again Darvin kissed her on the cheek. He acted as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

  I rolled my eyes in disgust and looked at my watch. I couldn’t wait for this service to be over.

  “Church, I want to thank all of you for your prayers, gifts—anything that you’ve done to show your love and support to me and my family. I ask that each of you will continue to keep us lifted up, and also that you join me in raising our son. We all know that it takes a village to raise a child.” People began to clap. “May God bless all of you, is my prayer.”

  With that, Michelle went back to her seat.

  The crowd was still clapping when Darvin grabbed the microphone to speak again. Somehow, he lost his composure, sending the crowd in an even bigger uproar. I rolled my eyes in frustration. I was surer than ever that Michelle had him under a spell. In all of the time I’d known him, he’d never behaved the way I’d seen him behave recently.

  Someone from behind me passed me a note and interrupted my thoughts. I turned around to see Solomon Andrews.

  Fear jerked through my body, and the chills that ran the length of my spine felt as if someone had poured cold water on my back.

  I unfolded the tiny piece of paper, and read:

  MEET ME OUTSIDE—NOW.

  I nervously placed the message into my purse and looked to see if anyone recognized the panic on my face. I could make a scene and draw attention to myself, or go out and face Goliath. If I made a scene, he was sure to expose me.

  I decided to do as ordered. I slipped out of my seat, and while drawing curious stares, I took the seemingly mile-long walk to the foyer.

  Solomon was on my heels.

  Outside, I whirled around with fury in my eyes. I pointed my finger in his face. “What is your problem? Why are you following me everywhere I go?” I asked.

  He stared at me for a moment. “Get your finger out of my face,” he said sternly.

  I relaxed my trembling hand to my side.

  He continued. “I thought you might want to know that my sister has been found.”

  For some reason, I could hear more behind what he was saying. Had they discovered my fingerprints on her body? No, that couldn’t be it. She’d been tossed in a lake. Surely, any evidence or trace of my DNA was long gone by now. Or was it?

  “And why would I want to know that?”

  He looked amused by my question. “Daphne, Daphne, Daphne. I wish I could pay to see the look on your face forever. You resemble nothing comparable to the force you pretend to have behind you.”

  What was he talking about?

  “Solomon, if you don’t mind, can you go ahead and make whatever point you called me out here to make? I would like to hear at least some of Pastor’s message.”

  He laughed. “Do you think that you are in a position to make any de
mands of me?” He lessened the gap between us. That move caused my heart rate to speed up. “But you’re right; the sooner you know how close you are to being exposed, maybe you’ll do the right thing and leave town—while you can.”

  This time, despite the traces of fear, I laughed. “You are amusing. Leave town? Please. I am not—”

  He interrupted me. “Because, you see, not only was my sister found, she was found alive.”

  The absence of saliva was causing my mouth to rapidly become dry. I felt the strength in my legs crumble at his earth-shattering words. It was difficult to speak above the lump lodged in my throat, so I stood there, hoping he would say it was all a joke. But I knew it wasn’t. This was too serious to joke about.

  In the midst of emotions that failed to behave, I cleared my throat.

  “I’m . . . I’m . . . happy for you. For us. I can’t believe it,” I managed to say.

  “Believe it. It’s true.”

  He walked closer to the main entrance. Something willed me to follow.

  “How—”

  He interrupted me again. “She was found in another town. I guess the trauma she experienced in some way caused her to forget who she was, or where she lived. She’s been living in this town ever since that dreadful day,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

  I felt as if I was going to faint. Twylah was alive? And to think, all this time, I thought I’d killed her. I’d been happy, even, when I learned those burglars had stumbled upon my dirt and had disposed of it for me. And after all of that, she was still alive? How could she have survived?

  “Solomon,”—I walked closer to him—“I don’t know what to say.” I paused. “At least now you know she didn’t commit suicide.” I paused again. “Nor was she murdered.”

  A new set of tremors traveled my spine. If I didn’t kill her, that meant . . .

  “No. She was not murdered.” He turned to face me. “One of the reasons I came here was somewhat to apologize to you. I’m sorry for accusing you of murdering my sister.” He cast his eyes to the floor. “Twylah called me the day before you were to bail her out of jail. She told me everything about you: who you were, what she’d done for you. The lies. The schemes. Everything. She even went so far as to say that she didn’t know how you would respond to her telling you that she wanted out. So, when they told me it was presumed she’d committed suicide and the whole story about the intruders, I felt it was all a lie, and that you killed her and had those guys cover up your dirty work. I’m still not convinced that’s not the case. But for now, I apologize.”