Diary of a Mad First Lady
Page 27
I found it difficult to love a man that I could never love right. There was always fault found in everything that I did. Nothing was ever good enough. Nothing was ever pleasing to him. It was always this or that. So, one day, I quit trying. I didn’t worry about what he thought. It was all about the church anyway. And as long as the parishioners of Pilgrim Baptist were happy, he, too, was happy . . . to a degree.
I walked in as if I had been invited. “Charles, this fax came for you,” I said, glaring at Simone.
She didn’t even bother to move. One reason was because she was a two-timing, trifling skank, and the other was because she knew that Charles wouldn’t make her.
When we’d first gotten married, I used to argue with him all the time about how women would never respect me unless he made them. He had always failed to see my point, so, once again, I gave up on that too.
“Lisa, why didn’t you knock before you just burst into my office as if you don’t have any home training?” he said to me as if I were just another woman off of the street.
“I didn’t think I had to knock on my own husband’s door, Charles. Here, I brought this to you,” I said, placing the fax on his desk.
He picked it up and looked at it. A smile came to his face, and rightfully so, because the real estate investors were offering us 4.5 million dollars for the acre of land on Piedmont.
“Well, in this case, I will excuse you for barging in. Was there anything else?” he asked, obviously wishing that I would disappear.
I lowered my eyes to the floor. I had grown tired of Charles humiliating me, especially in the company of other people. One day I prayed that God would allow him to feel the hurt that he’d inflicted upon me.
“No. That was it,” I said, turning around, walking toward the door.
“And, Lisa?”
I stopped in my tracks, dreading to turn back around and hear what he had to say. It was sure to be an insult.
“Yes, Charles?”
“Will you lock the door on your way out?” he asked. Without giving me a chance to respond, he said, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
I looked from him to Simone. They both disgusted me. If I had time, I would go over there and vomit all over the both of them, but the little old ladies were waiting on me. So, without a word, I walked out and closed the door. If he wanted it locked, he would have to get up off his sorry behind and do it himself. Or send his “kiss-a-tary” to do it; because all she did was kiss his butt.
I walked out onto the massive but empty parking lot. In a few hours, it would be completely packed with cars, everyone trying to get in and hear another one of Charles’s animated messages. I rolled my eyes, put on my sunglasses, and pressed the button to unlock the doors to my Suburban. I got inside just as a car drove into the space next to mine.
The Cadillac DTS was black, with black tinted windows, and I couldn’t see who was inside. The car looked familiar, as if I’d seen it somewhere before.
A man dressed in a smoky gray Tayion suit and matching gray gators stepped out. I quickly surmised that he must be a pastor, because I’d only seen pastors wearing Tayion suits and expensive gators.
He smiled at me with teeth as white as snow and as straight as a ruler. He had a close-cropped haircut with small, auburn-colored curls that rested neatly on top of his head. And Lord, his eyes; his eyes were a mixture of hazel and gray. And at some point in his life, his momma must have told him that they were his best asset, because when he looked at me, my very soul was pierced. The man was fine, to say the least, and before I knew it, I was sweating bullets.
I rolled down my window. “Are you looking for someone?” I asked.
“You,” he replied seductively.
What did he just say? Lord, please help me, Jesus! Did he not see that the sign above the parking space I was sitting in marked FIRST LADY? Nonetheless, I gave him my schoolgirl smile; it was always impressive.
“That’s funny, because had I known that, I wouldn’t have made myself so hard to find,” I flirted.
There wasn’t anything wrong with flirting, was there?
He flashed another smile at me. Lord, if he kept doing that, I was going to melt away in front of his eyes.
“First Lady, right?” he asked.
Dang. The sign must have given me away. I hated when people called me out like that, as if to remind me of who I was.
“I prefer Sister Hodges. I don’t particularly like the term ‘first’ because it insinuates that a second, third, or even fourth might follow behind it,” I said snappily, because in my case, it did.
“Whoa. Excuse me. I didn’t mean any harm. I just didn’t know your first name,” he said, holding his hands up in defense.
I relaxed a little. “I’m sorry. It’s just that . . .” I paused and looked back into his eyes. I didn’t know this man, so why was I about to start telling him my business? “Anyway, I’m sorry if I came across the wrong way. I’m not usually like this.” I lowered my eyes.
“Look at me,” he said sternly. “Hold your head up, because you have no reason to hold it down. You are way too beautiful to not be noticed, and you definitely don’t have a reason to apologize to me.”
I looked at him. He thought I was beautiful? Charles used to say that, until I no longer fit the mold of what he thought the perfect woman looked like. I was sure this man was only trying to make me feel good. With his good looks, I knew he wasn’t running low in the self-esteem department. I bet women threw themselves and everything else at him. Hmph. It was the same with Charles.
“Thank you. Um, obviously you know where you are, because Pilgrim Baptist is not off a main highway, so I’m also going to assume you knew who you came to see,” I said as I glanced at my watch. “And I’m almost late for an appointment. You have a good day.” I pressed the button that rolled my windows up.
That was a good thing. I needed to roll up that window with him in it. My flirting had gone too far and I could feel it. The sad part about it was I didn’t care. It felt good. Too good, actually.
I put my truck in reverse, and the man knocked on my window. I cracked it.
He started laughing. “What? You think I’m going to jump in and get you?”
If he only knew how badly I wanted him to. I wanted him to get me, take me away from this place, and never look back. I sighed. That would never happen.
I let the window down some more. “Sorry. I don’t know you.”
“What can I do to you in a church parking lot with your husband and one other person inside?” he asked.
I looked over and saw Charles’s 2-door Jaguar parked next to my truck, and Simone’s 2-door Mercedes next to his. He had a point.
“I don’t know. Like I said, I’m not normally like this. I’m just having a rough day, that’s all,” I mumbled, head down again.
“Hey, what did I tell you about holding your head down? And the day just got started for it to be bad already,” he said. “Let me guess; trouble at the church?”
If he only knew. Then again, it wasn’t so much the church as it was the pastor.
“No. Trouble at home,” I replied before I’d meant to. Oh, well, he was a complete stranger. The last thing he could do was judge me.
He looked toward the door of the church. “Listen, I can come back and see Charles at any time. You want to go and grab lunch? It’ll be on me,” he said reassuringly.
I wished I could.
“No,” I said. “I don’t think Charles would appreciate that too much. Nor the members of this church, for that matter.”
“What about you? What do you want to do? And who cares what the members of this church think? You are a grown woman, and if you want to have a business lunch to talk about business, then that’s your prerogative,” he said suggestively.
He spoke with a confidence that I could only dream about. I was not that bold.
“You’re right. It should be that way, but it’s not. But thanks for the offer. Maybe in another life, I’ll just have to take
you up on it.” I smiled weakly.
He put his hand into the truck window and grabbed mine that was resting on the arm rest.
“Look, one lunch isn’t going to hurt. You look sad, and all I want to do is try to bring a little sunshine into your life, even if only for one hour.”
Lord knows I needed some sunshine. But at what cost? I exhaled over and over. Why was this decision so hard to make? I knew I shouldn’t be going to lunch with this man. I knew that I had no business to talk about, and even if that was a good excuse, it wasn’t the truth. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I was being deceptive. Besides, I didn’t even know his name.
“I’m sorry, Mister . . .” I said, waiting for him to finish the sentence with his name.
“Alex. Alex Mitchell is my name.”
“I’m sorry, Alex. I can’t do it. Maybe another time,” I said.
He released my hand. “Okay, I will accept no this time. I realize that you just met me. But I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you, and don’t think for one time this will be my last invitation.” He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a business card.
“Here, take this,” he said as he wrote another number on the back. “That’s my cell number. Call me anytime, even if you just want to talk.”
Like a fool, I took the card. I tried to convince myself that I was only being polite, but I knew that wasn’t the case. Maybe not today, but one day, I knew that I would use that number.
He said good-bye and walked to the church. I watched his swagger. He was the kind of man that would get an emotionally bankrupt woman such as me in a whole lot of trouble. If only I had the boldness that Charles had, to do any and everything I wanted to, I would have taken Alex up on that lunch—and maybe a few other things as well. But that was totally out of my character. The furthest I’d ever gone in that direction was today with the flirting, and I felt bad enough about that.
Who was Alex Mitchell? Was he a pastor? Why hadn’t I ever heard of him before? Whoever he was, I hoped he wasn’t in town to stay. That just might be a problem. A tall, six foot problem.
I finally drove away, but all I could think about was that business card that I had tossed in my purse. It was the forbidden fruit, and I was in the Garden of Eden. I could finally sympathize with Eve.
What the devil was offering looked mighty good to me.
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Diary of a Mad First Lady ©copyright 2010 DiShan Washington
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