Sex in the Sanctuary

by Lutishia Lovely

  Then, almost like the imp on the other shoulder another face swam clearly into view. April. Willing, wonderful April. The woman who’d made him feel young again before he’d even realized he felt old. The woman who made him feel alive when he felt he was drowning in a sea of sameness, adrift without passion or tenderness. He’d called her his lifesaver and told her she tasted delicious. When laughingly asked what flavor, he’d told her he needed to conduct an extensive taste test to find out.

  April was pleasant and persistent, there with open arms and an empty bed, ready to lend sympathetic, nonjudging ears to the woes of his disintegrating marriage. She never prodded him to divorce his wife and had at times even offered suggestions on how the marriage could be saved. In a twisted way, that made King admire her more, she seemed so unselfish. That this seemingly unselfish female had another woman’s husband in her bed did not enter his mind. She cares about me, he thought as he justified his transgression.

  He remembered the first time he saw her, looking outrageously sexy in a skimpy halter top with faded, cutoff jean shorts. She’d flashed him a little cleavage, began to flirt. He’d told her that not only was he a married man with children but also a pastor. He’d invited her to church; they’d exchanged business cards. She’d called the office the next day. After a few conversations, he’d suggested an appointment. She suggested her apartment. They’d agreed on lunch at the Crown Center Hotel Complex. Now, six months later, it seemed she had provided him with more counseling than the other way around.

  A light rap on the door announced Joseph’s entry. King didn’t even turn; he knew that Joseph would be the only one coming in because of explicit instructions that no one else enter.

  “Hey, boss man,” Joseph began quietly. “You all right?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, it looks like everything is in place for your trip.” Joseph waited for King to respond, but continued after an uncomfortable silence. “We should be leaving in the next thirty minutes.”

  The private line on King’s phone rang. Both he and Joseph stared at the flashing button. “You gonna get that?” Joseph asked after a slight hesitation. King’s continued silence was the only reply. He sat there unmoving, staring solemnly at the blinking red light.

  “All right then, boss. Call me when you’re ready to head to the airport.” Joseph, an invaluable and loyal assistant who had learned much about his employer of five years, walked quietly to the door, pausing to contemplate his boss and mentor a moment more before opening it and silently stepping outside.

  The little red light stopped blinking and then almost immediately began blinking again. King glanced at the phone before standing up, stretching wearily and walking over to the fully equipped bathroom in the corner of his office. He turned on the cold water full blast and, taking a large amount in cupped hands, splashed his face repeatedly. It did little good. He still felt tired and groggy. He grabbed a monogrammed towel from the rack and held it to his face, shaking his head in his hands. He straightened again, placed the towel on the rack and walked back into his office to the sounds of his cell phone beeping steadily. He reluctantly reached for the cell phone atop his briefcase and looked at the caller ID. April, just like he figured.

  Of course she’d been upset at the unexpected run-in with Tai. She’d been even more upset when he left the restaurant to try and catch up with his wife. Needless to say, their lunch was over. April hoped their relationship would not follow the same route. She’d begged him to stay, for them to talk it out, but King couldn’t handle her company. He wanted either to be with Tai and talk about this situation, or he didn’t want to be with anyone. He was too upset. He had too many things to think about. He’d promised to call her and he had, briefly, after finding Tai gone when he got home. That had been several hours after he drove around aimlessly. When he found himself on I–435 heading toward St. Louis, he turned around and headed home. He wouldn’t run away from his problem. His stomach was in knots as he punched the garage door opener, and he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t see the SUV. Once he was inside the house, the phone rang with their neighbor, Jan, saying the kids were on their way home. When he questioned her, she told him Tai had asked her to watch them and no, she hadn’t said where she was going. King figured Tai would want to spend some time alone. Still, he was worried and called her cell phone number. Finally, after several pleadings that she at least let him know she was all right, she’d text messaged that she was as well as could be expected and that, in no uncertain terms, she had nothing to say to him.

  All that changed when she returned home the next morning. Dark circles under her eyes had informed him of her lack of sleep. He understood. The oblivion of nocturnal escape had eluded him, too. She’d started off calm, cool and collected with one simple question, “So is that the whore you’re sleeping with?”

  He didn’t know why he’d lied. That was the pull that had popped the cork on Tai’s suppressed rage, delivering on him the blows he was sure were meant for both he and April. He’d finally told the truth, not the smartest move either. Why was he angry? She had every right to question him about April. He’d been cold and callous in his reply, compassion and sympathy going out the window along with his last shred of decency as he had walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  “Five minutes, boss.” Joseph opened the door just enough to deliver the message, then turned back to his desk, gathering day planner, cell phones and notepads.

  What irony, King thought as he slipped on his suit jacket and closed his briefcase. I’m getting ready to preach a revival when I need reviving the most.

  Just as he stepped to the door and turned out the office light, the red light of his private line began blinking ominously in the darkness. April. He hesitated a moment before walking away from the call. The next reasonable move would be to walk away from his mistress.

  Lord, have mercy

  Hope watched silently as the somber trio walked over to the Lincoln Towncar. She was still smarting from the pastor’s summary dismissal of her earlier. What was that about? As she watched what for all intents and purposes looked like a funeral procession, she was sure something was going on, and she deduced it had more to do with Pastor and less to do with the revival at St. Stephens. Joseph walked to the passenger side, opening the front door for Pastor and then seating himself in the back. Minister Hobbs slid behind the driver’s seat on the other side. Nobody talked. Nobody smiled. All three were dressed in black. Had somebody died? Stop it, Hope, your imagination is running wild. She shook her head and reached for her keys, her eyes still riveted on the Lincoln. She saw Pastor rub his temples wearily. Joseph reached over and slapped his shoulders in a gesture of support. It’s none of my business, Hope thought as she started her MG.

  She had just put her car in reverse and backed out when she saw a little white, sporty Honda buzz into the parking lot and pull up next to the Lincoln. The car parked haphazardly and had barely stopped when a petite, brunette, obviously upset woman hopped out of the driver’s side and rushed over to the Lincoln. Joseph jumped out immediately and pulled her away from the car as she tried, without success, to open the door on Pastor’s side. She was screaming through the window, but Hope couldn’t make out her hysterical and garbled words. Something about phone calls, she surmised as the woman frantically waved a cell phone in Pastor’s direction. She rolled down her window and began to inch her car forward, but before she’d gotten ten feet, two of pastor’s assistants ran out of the church and helped Joseph subdue the lady and walk her back over to the Honda and away from Pastor, who though appearing calm, stared straight ahead. After speaking with the woman for a few moments, Joseph walked back to the Lincoln, got in, and not two seconds later the luxury car was pulling out of the parking lot.

  What was that about? Hope reversed her car and pulled back into a parking spot. It may not be my business, but this is church grounds, so
it is now church business and I’m a member!

  The two assistants were still talking to the calmer yet still seething woman. Hope shook her head, wondering why women like that had to make such fools of themselves. She knew many women in the church had their eyes on Pastor, and the thought nauseated her. Hope stepped out of her car and walked toward the church, all the time eyeing the trio next to the Honda. The woman didn’t look familiar. While Hope watched, the woman tossed her head haughtily, walked to the car door that had been opened for her by one of the assistants and got inside. The girl was upset. Hope was about to walk over and offer her counseling services when the woman started the car and gassed the engine. The car flew backward, running over a small shrub.

  “Hey!” Hope shouted as she moved out of the way. The woman didn’t even see her, just put the car in drive and tore out of the parking lot. An eerie silence remained.

  Hope waited for the assistants to cross the parking lot. One of them, Drew, had pursued Hope when she first came to the church. She’d considered it briefly, before finding out he was also trying to talk to every other skirt in the building. He was a born flirt and cute in a Pillsbury Doughboy way. He was shaking his head as he crossed the pavement. Hope flashed a stop-and-talk-to-me-because-yes-I’m-in-somebodyelse’s-business-but-I-need-to-know” smile. He stopped.

  “I was getting ready to come over and offer counseling,” Hope began as she turned to match steps with Drew, who continued into the church. Hovering at the front door and talking in conspiratorial whispers were Sistahs Almighty and Alrighty. Great, Hope thought. Now everybody’s gonna know.

  Drew kept walking toward the classroom doors and, trying each knob, found one unlocked. He opened the door. Hope quickly looked around to make sure no one saw her and stepped inside.

  “So how are you, Hope?” Drew asked quietly, leaning back against the door as she stepped across the room and sat in a chair.

  “I should ask how you are! I thought you were going to have to call backup.”

  “Oh, that wasn’t nothin’.”

  “Well, ‘nothin’’ almost ran me over. Who is she, another Mrs. Brook wannabe?”

  “You know how it is.” Drew was being pointedly evasive. Hope was not amused—or deterred.

  “I haven’t seen her around here.”

  “Me either.”

  “So who is she? Obviously somebody who knows about the church since she drove into the parking lot, and obviously somebody who knows Pastor since she almost attacked him!”

  “Well,” Drew began, walking over to take a chair next to Hope. “You know how many women throw themselves at Pastor. She just joined the crowd.”

  “So you’ve never seen her before either? You don’t know who she is?”

  “Naw. Never seen her before.”

  “So what was she saying to Pastor?”

  “Something about him not returning her calls, blah, blah, blah.” Drew tried to lighten the mood. “The woman is probably on crack!”

  Probably not was what Hope thought. “Hummm,” was all she said.

  “So, pretty lady,” Drew drawled, grabbing Hope’s hand and raising it to his lips for a kiss. “When am I going to get that oh-so-elusive telephone number?”

  Hope smiled as she gently pulled back her hand and stood up. “When you finish calling the ninety-nine numbers you’ve already gotten from all the other sistahs in our church family. God bless you, brotha!” When Hope opened the door, she looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear, then quietly closed the door behind her. It would do no good for Sistah Almighty or Alrighty to see her coming out of a church classroom with one of the menfolk.

  As she stepped into the foyer from the hallway, she noticed the very occupiers of her thoughts coming through the front door. Knowing she was one of their least favorite people didn’t stop her from greeting them. “Hey, Sistah Stokes. Sistah Wanthers.”

  “How do.”

  “Hello.”

  They both eyed her suspiciously. Hope lowered her voice and leaned forward. “Now, you ladies know we aren’t supposed to gossip, but I know you saw what happened in the parking lot, and I know you’ll agree we need to pray for Pastor King. That woman almost ran me over.”

  Sistah Stokes couldn’t resist the dangling worm. “What?” she said aloud and then dropped her voice to a whisper. “Well, who was she?”

  “Let’s take this conversation outside, ladies,” Sistah Wanthers interjected sternly. “It ain’t right to have gossiping and such up in this here sanctuary.” Then she almost ran over Hope trying to beat her through the door. Hope didn’t know Sistah Alrighty could move so fast! They all headed for the exit doors and stepped outside, walking toward the edge of the building. “Now, what kinda nonsense was the girl saying? I don’t hear as good as I used to,” Sistah Wanthers said as she inched closer to Hope.

  “Calm down, Elsie!” Sistah Stokes admonished. “Let the girl have her say.”

  Hope smiled. It was said that the act of war made strange bedfellows, and if there was someone out there trying to ruin their Pastor’s marriage, the war was on.

  “The lady was screaming she was in love with Pastor. Now, I know I haven’t seen her at church before, so I don’t know how she knows about him or the church. But we know how the enemy can cause delusions. Pastor might not even know that woman, and here she is causing a disturbance almost on the doorstep of God’s house!”

  “The devil is a lie!” Sistah Almighty bellowed. “Ah shantae ee roe sandala ma shee key ah.” It had taken this dyed-in-the-wool Baptist a while to surrender to the notion of speaking in tongues, the holy language, but this was a serious situation, and she needed to feel her help coming. She continued with unbridled zeal. “The blood of Jesus! Ee roe a shanta my handalah roe hah!”

  Sistah Alrighty, who’d never yielded to the holy language, became impatient with her entreating friend. “Will you hush up?” she hissed, then softened a bit at the thought of telling someone not to pray. “What I mean is, we need to pray, but, uh, we first got to know just what to pray about!” Then she turned to Hope. “What else did she say?”

  Hope raised her hand to hide a smile, coughing quickly instead. “I don’t know, but she was hysterical. And then Joseph grabbed her and pulled her away from Pastor’s car. I think we’ve just got to pray a hedge of protection around Pastor Brook to keep him from the traps of the devil.” Hope looked at her watch again. It was obvious there was no information here. “Well, I’ve got to go to work, ladies. Be blessed.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You, too.”

  Sistahs Almighty and Alrighty watched quietly as Hope crossed the parking lot in her stylish, snug black suit. They weren’t aware that they were frowning as she opened the door to her car and got inside. Hope fastened her seat belt, adjusted the mirror, put the car in gear and took off slowly, waving to the sisters as she passed them. They waved back, smiling, watching the car until it disappeared around the corner. Then they slowly turned to face each other, the smiles turning upside down.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Sistah Almighty asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Sho’ is,” Sistah Alrighty countered, pausing for effect. “That the pot best not call the kettle black. She betta pray, all right.”

  “Unh, unh, unh. Sho’nuff. Best she prays for herself before she prays about somebody else.”

  “Lord have mercy.”

  “Ee roe shantalah my hayah dah ee tah,” Sistah Almighty began again. This time Sistah Alrighty bowed her head, beginning her own intercession with God as they both turned toward the church and began walking inside. Prayer, after all, was something that could be done in the house of the Lord.

  God was with her and she was going to be okay

  “White woman! Did I hear you say…White woman!” Sistah Maxine was wearing out a trail in the living room carpet, from the fireplace to the window and back to the couch. “Don’t tell me my son was wallowing in some peepee!”

  Tai’s head shot
up. Mama Max was always hard to follow when she was angry. And Tai hadn’t seen her this angry in quite some time. She’d waited a week to tell her what happened, until she herself had calmed down enough to get the words out without choking.

  “Peepee?” Tai asked, a quizzical look accompanying the question.

  “Yes. Pee. Pee. Pink pussy.”

  “Mama Max!”

  “Yes, I said it. Those hussies are always after our Black men. They got everything else, now they want them, too!” Mama Max sat down on the couch briefly, only to jump back up and start pacing again. “Triflin’ heifa! I bet she looks like a mangy dog!”

  “No, Mama, she’s actually very attractive,” Tai stated matter-of-factly. “You know King only likes the best.”

  “Humph,” Mama Max said, crossing the floor and sitting down with a thud. “Attractive. Yeah, like the AIDS virus.” Both ladies became silent, deep in their own worlds, their own thoughts. After several moments, Tai stood up.

  “You know, this isn’t King’s first affair. And all of the other women were Black. I admit, at first it really bothered me, too, that she was White. But wrong is wrong, no matter what the color. I’m not pissed anymore because the woman is White. I’m pissed because she’s with my husband.” Tai paused, scowled. “And he’s with her.” She headed to the kitchen. “You want some coffee, Mama Max?”

  “Yeah, baby,” Mama said distractedly. “With a shot of hundred proof!” she added, smiling.

  “I do have some Bailey’s if you want.”

  “Bailey? Who’s that?”

  “It’s a liqueur that tastes like that Irish-flavored creamer you like so much. I’ll let you try some of mine and see if you like it.”

  Mama Max said nothing as she sat staring into space, squinting her eyes as she peered far beyond the natural realm. Tai went to the kitchen and returned carrying a tray with a coffee urn, two cups, a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream and a few mini-croissants. She eyed Mama Max as she set the tray down and began pouring the coffee. Mama Max had not changed positions.