by Carl Weber
When I returned to the den, I found my mother, Donna, and Shorty huddled around the television. Shorty had probably turned it on to distract them from their troubled thoughts, but it proved to be no help. Every local station had interrupted their regular programming to bring viewers a news flash, a peek into the shattered lives of the Wilson family.
Popular minister and Queens borough presidential candidate Bishop T.K. Wilson was exposed today for having a love child with known crack addict and convicted felon Marlene Jones. Ms. Jones, who was just recently released from Rikers Island after serving a sentence for possession of crack cocaine, announced that her daughter, Tanisha Jones, was the love child of a five-year relationship she had with Bishop Wilson. Ironically, this information was made public at Bishop Wilson’s church, where he was presiding over the wedding of his son, Dante Wilson. Dante Wilson was about to be married to Tanisha Jones, until it was revealed that the bride was his half sister. We will bring you more information on this breaking story as it becomes available.
I shut the television off in disgust. This brief news report was obviously only the beginning of a storm of unwanted attention my family would be receiving. In fact, I knew it was only a matter of time before the news vans would be parked outside our house and the phone would be ringing off the hook. Probably the only thing that had delayed the reporters’ arrival was the six hundred guests at the wedding. I wondered how many of them were still at the church, waiting in line for their chance to be interviewed and get their fifteen minutes of fame.
Donna was the first one to finally speak. “I can’t believe the bishop would do this,” she said, rising slowly from her seat. She began to pace back and forth across the room, holding her swollen stomach as if it might fall to the ground.
“Donna, honey, will you please sit down?” Shorty pleaded. He tried to gently lead her back to the sofa. “I know you’re stressed, but think about the baby. The doctor said you should stay off your feet.”
“No, Shorty, I don’t wanna sit down. What I want is for the bishop to come home and explain what the hell is going on.” She balled up her fists, placed them against her forehead, and let out a scream.
“Madonna, calm down,” my mother said in a commanding voice. I was relieved to see her coming out of her trance. “Shorty’s right. You should sit down. Your pregnancy is stressful enough as it is. We don’t want you going into premature labor.”
Donna’s body seemed to crumple under the emotional strain. Shorty grabbed her and guided her back to the sofa as she sobbed, “I want my daddy.”
“Son, are you all right?” my mother asked softly as she reached for my hand. I was still speechless as I sat beside her with tears welling in my eyes.
My mother wrapped her arm around my shoulder and I laid my head on her breast like a child. We were supposed to be comforting her, but she was the one showing incredible strength in the face of all of this. I had always known she was a strong woman, but she hadn’t shed one tear. This amazed me, because the public drama had to be tearing her up inside.
“I hate him. I swear to God, Ma, I hate him.” I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I’d never felt so much pain in all my life. I wanted to step outside my body at that point and be anybody but me, because as far as I was concerned, my life as Dante Wilson was in ruins.
My mother stroked my head as she soothed me. “Don’t say that, baby. You just don’t understand. None of you will ever understand.”
Though her voice was calm, her face looked drained, as if the last few hours had taken their toll on her. For the first time, I could see her real self through her always flawless makeup, and I noticed that she was getting old. Her hair was turning gray around the edges, and a few wrinkles creased her usually smooth olive complexion.
“No, Ma, I understand perfectly. He’s a lying, cheating, deadbeat bastard. I can’t believe he did this to me. For Christ’s sake, my relationship with Tanisha was incest, and everyone with a TV or radio knows about it! He’s ruined my life.”
I felt like I needed to run to the bathroom again. Every time I thought about Tanisha being my sister, my stomach started to do flips. We’d made love so many times I couldn’t even count them.
“Dante, please don’t judge your father. He loves you. He loves all of you.”
I couldn’t believe what she had just said. How could she stand by that—that snake?
“I don’t want his love. I don’t want anything from him. Right now, I hate the fact that he’s even my father.”
She sat up, releasing me. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you ever say that again,” she said in that same calm voice. “He may have made some mistakes, but he is always going to be your father.”
The door opened, and we all turned to see the bishop enter the house. Donna’s sobs became louder, and my stomach lurched. Just the sight of him made me wanna throw up again. My mother rose and went to my father. I wanted to jump up and smack him, yet she was approaching him with such tenderness. His face was blanketed with the look of defeat.
“It’s over,” he told her quietly. “I spoke to the party chairman and withdrew from the race.”
“No, T.K.!” My mother wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her face in his shoulder, and finally released an ocean of tears.
“It’s okay, Charlene. It’s going to be okay.” He stroked her hair gently as she sobbed against his chest.
“Okay?” I shouted in a rage. “What fucking world are you living in? It’s not going to be okay! Nothing is going to be okay, and it’s all because of you!”
My mother lifted her head. “Dante, stop it.”
“No, you stop it. Stop defending him. Can’t you see what he’s done? He humiliated you. You’re the laughingstock of the church, and soon we’ll all be the laughingstock of the whole damn city! I can see the headlines now. Bishop T.K. Wilson and his incestuous family.”
“I said stop it! You don’t understand.” My mother’s tears had dried up, and the anger that should have been directed at the bishop was being unleashed on me.
“No, Charlene, let him speak. He’s entitled. He’s had as bad a day as any of us.”
I took a step toward him. “You don’t know the half of it, you…you fucking bastard. And you’ve got the nerve to call yourself a man of God. You ain’t a man of God. You ain’t nothing but a heathenous devil worshipper.”
“Don’t cross the line, son,” he warned.
“Why not? Who are you to tell me what’s right and wrong at this point? Look what you’ve done. Tell me something. How many other times did you screw around on my mother? I bet you’ve been through half the congregation. How many other brothers and sisters do we have out there, huh, Bishop?”
“Dante, stop it,” my mother snapped.
“Dante, when the time is right, I will tell you and your sister about my relationship with Marlene, but not until your mother and I have a chance to talk.” He was using that same austere voice he usually reserved for dealing with irate church members, and it was pissing me off.
“Tell me now, goddammit!” If he wasn’t going to speak, I would get him to open his mouth another way. My fist flew toward his jaw. He moved out of the way pretty quickly, but I still managed to graze him. Shorty jumped on me from behind before I could get in another swing.
“No, bro. You can’t do this. He still your father.”
As I struggled to free myself from Shorty’s grasp, there was a loud banging at the door. Everyone froze. This was it, the first of the reporters who would be coming to invade our privacy and pry into our pain, all hoping for that front-page story. The banging continued, and Donna finally stepped to the window and pulled back the curtain. She turned back to us with a look of wide-eyed confusion.
“It’s Deacon Black and Deaconess Wright.”
My mother glanced at the bishop then at me. “It’s okay, Donna. They’re friends. Let them in.”
Donna opened the door and the visitors entered.
“Bishop,” Deacon
Black said in greeting.
“Deacon, Deaconess.” The bishop nodded. “How can I help you two?”
“Bishop, I’m going to get right to the point,” Deacon Black said. “We just left an emergency meeting of the deacons board, at Reverend Reynolds’s request.”
“Reverend Reynolds called a meeting? Good.” The bishop’s face showed approval. He was probably expecting to hear that Reverend Reynolds wanted to discuss how the deacons could help their bishop, so I know he was taken aback when he heard the deacon’s next words.
“Well, I don’t know about that. He felt it was the obligation of the deacons board and its ministers to discuss today’s events, to discuss conduct he viewed as unbecoming of the pastor of our church.”
“Reynolds said this?” The bishop seemed wounded, and everyone else was shocked. We all thought Reverend Reynolds was his closest ally in the church. He was like family.
“He said that and a whole lot more,” Deaconess Wright added. “He asked the board to fire you.”
“What? They can’t do that,” my mother protested.
“No, they can’t, Charlene,” the bishop told her. “But only because the church bylaws say that a pastor can’t be fired without an open meeting of the board in which I myself and any member of the congregation are given a chance to speak on my behalf.”
The first lady sighed with relief. “Thank God.”
“But they can suspend you with pay until the next deacons board meeting. And that’s exactly what they did, Bishop.” Deacon Black frowned.
“That meeting’s not until next month. Who’s going to run the church until then?” my mother asked.
“That’s the main reason why the deaconess and I came over here, First Lady Wilson. To inform you and the bishop that Reverend Reynolds has been appointed acting pastor for now. And when it’s all over, I think he and his new wife plan to have both your jobs.”
42
The First Lady
“Bishop Wilson, you’ve heard the opinions of Reverend Reynolds and some of the other members of the board. They seem to think that the recent media attention to your alleged indiscretions is harmful to the church’s reputation, and therefore they are calling for your removal as pastor of First Jamaica Ministries. Before we take this to a vote, we’d like to give you an opportunity to say a few words and answer a few questions if you don’t mind,” Deacon James Black, the chairman of the deacons board, told my husband.
The deacons board meeting was packed with friends and foes. I, for one, was glad that this day had finally come. We had been through a living hell the last month. The media were still dragging T.K. through the mud about fathering Tanisha and his relationship with Marlene, and the church had not made a public statement either supporting or rejecting their bishop. My good friend, Deaconess Wright, assured me T.K. still had a few supporters in the church, but I knew that Reverend Reynolds had started his own little campaign to erode that base of support. It had become very clear that he was looking to get rid of the bishop and settle right into position as the new head of the church. Unfortunately Deacon Emerson and Anita were now two of his biggest supporters. With T.K.’s future so uncertain, he and I were on pins and needles all month as we waited for this day, so I was relieved it had arrived. It would at least answer the question of where my husband stood with his once-loyal deacons board, so that we might be able to move ahead with our lives, with or without T.K.’s position in the church. I must admit I had no idea what we would do if T.K. was dismissed.
Our relationship with Dante, however, would still need much more time to heal. Dante had moved out right after the wedding. When T.K. and I went to him, asking him to listen to our explanation, he refused. He was vowing never to speak to his father again or forgive me for supporting him, and though it was breaking our hearts, we both knew enough to give Dante time. We prayed that someday soon our son would come back to us, ready to begin repairing our damaged family.
Donna had been angry with her father, of course, but her love for him was strong enough to withstand the truths that were revealed. Although she was back on bed rest and due to deliver within the next few weeks, Donna had insisted on coming to the deacons meeting to support her father, and for that I was grateful. I just wanted to see my family whole again.
I watched my husband as he stood and looked around the room, preparing to answer the board’s charges. As he made his way to the podium, his expression was very serious yet stately. This was the man I had loved for so many years; even under the greatest pressure, he displayed such confidence, such courage. He made eye contact with each and every one of the deacons and deaconesses on the board. At some time or another he had helped each one of them, and his eyes were reminders of that fact. He stopped to pause even longer when he reached his protégé, Reverend Reynolds, his eyes reflecting the reverend’s betrayal. Ever since he’d come to our church, we’d had that man in our house like he was one of our children. T.K. had taken Reverend Reynolds under his wing, and now it was his voice that was loudest in the call to remove my husband from the church.
“I’ll make a brief statement, Deacon Black, but I won’t be answering any questions,” T.K. announced at the podium.
“Why not?” Reverend Reynolds was quick to protest. “I think you owe us all an explanation for your infidelity and the embarrassment you’ve brought down on the church.”
T.K. chuckled. “I may owe my wife an explanation. I may even owe my children an explanation, but other than God, I don’t owe an explanation to anyone else.” There was some clapping in the background from a few members who had remained loyal to T.K. throughout this ordeal. “Now, may I go on with my statement, Reverend Reynolds?”
Reynolds sat down and Black nodded his approval.
“As you all know, I’ve been the pastor of First Jamaica Ministries for the last seventeen years. In that time, we’ve increased our congregation to become the largest church in the borough. We’ve built schools and day-care centers, and started countless programs to help this community. I’ve given my life to this church. I will be the first to say that I am sorry my indiscretions have caused the media to look negatively on our church, but I will not deny my daughter or—”
“So you admit she’s your daughter?” Reverend Reynolds asked smugly.
“Yes, she’s my daughter.” The first time I had heard T.K. say those words, I felt my heart sink, but now I was proud of him. This was a true man of God, admitting his mistakes even in the face of all it might cause him to lose.
“So you did cheat on your wife? Which means you committed adultery.” Clearly, Reverend Reynolds had decided to take over the meeting. If I wasn’t so dignified, I would have smacked the self-satisfied smirk right off his face.
T.K. ignored Reverend Reynolds and continued to speak to the board. “Now, I am going to make this statement once and only once.” He held his Bible tightly. “I love my wife. I’ve loved her since the day we met, and I swear on this Bible in my hand that I have never, ever committed adultery.” There was murmuring among some of the observers in the room, but T.K. continued without pause. “Now, some of you may believe that and some of you may not, but I will leave here with a clear conscience, knowing that I am right with my Lord. So, if you want to fire me, by all means do so.”
On that note, T.K. turned and walked straight out the door. The room erupted in whispers from every corner. Some observers and board members had their doubt written clearly on their faces. To them, it hadn’t mattered how many Bibles my husband had sworn on at that podium. Deaconess Wright looked my way, her eyes expressing her sympathy. I took strength from her steadfast support and stood to speak.
“Before you vote, Deacons, I’d like to say something.” My voice was calm and even. Reverend Reynolds would not intimidate me, for contrary to what he wanted everyone to think, I knew right from wrong, and my husband was right.
I approached the podium, straightening my hat before I spoke. “As you know, I am First Lady Charlene Wilson, and I’ve
been married for over twenty years to that elegant man who just left. Now, it is my understanding that he has been placed on suspension and may possibly be replaced as pastor of this church because he has allegedly commited infidelities. Am I correct?”
“The exact charges are actions unbecoming a pastor,” Deacon Black explained, clearly confused by my question. “But yes, that is our concern.”
Reverend Reynolds had the nerve to speak to me, and in such a condescending tone that I had the urge to smack him once again. “First Lady Wilson, we all know that you have to defend your husband, but he has embarrassed the church and cheated on you. Please try to understand. We are just trying to right his wrong.”
“Don’t you dare try to act like you’re defending my honor, Reverend Reynolds. You, who ate at the bishop’s table every Sunday, and now try to kick him while he’s down. You think I don’t know what you’re up to? You…you Judas!”
“Ahem.” Deacon Black cleared his throat. “First Lady Wilson, can we get to your comments?”
“Of course, Deacon,” I responded. I had to remind myself not to let Reverend Reynolds rattle me. “If you will indulge me, I’d like to tell you all a story.”
Reverend Reynolds tried once again to shake me up. “I’m sorry, First Lady, but what does this have to do wi—”
Deaconess Wright came to my defense. “Let the first lady speak, Reverend.” Several voices in the room echoed their agreement with my friend.
