The Choir Director 2 (20 page)

As Bishop delivered Pippie's eulogy, his words were punctuated by the sounds of sobbing throughout the packed church. I was only hearing half of what the bishop said, because I had my own internal dialogue going on. I'd been plagued with these thoughts, running like a loop through my head, ever since Selena left me, and they weren't cutting me any slack even at my best friend's funeral service. All the things I'd done wrong in the past month had fucked up my life royally, and Pippie was the one person I could lean on. Just the fact that he believed in me bolstered my faith, made me think that I might be okay again someday. And now he was gone. Murdered.

I tuned back in to the bishop's words. “Pippie wasn't a saint, but when you were around him, he made you believe in God!” He preached the absolute truth. “He had a way of making you believe in miracles, setting a quiet example through his own life story of triumph over adversity.”

I glanced around at the folks in the audience. Pippie had impacted so many of their lives in some way. He always had a kind word and a willingness to help people, and as a friend, you just couldn't do better. Lately, I'd been calling him up at three a.m., and not only would he talk me down off the ledge, but he'd show up and do it in person. What kind of person gets up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night just so you didn't have to be alone with your demons? And I'd had plenty of those days recently. I didn't have any idea how I was going to do this without him, because without him, I was now completely alone.

“He had a way of letting you know that you mattered,” Bishop said, and I felt a pang of guilt. I wasn't so sure that I'd let Pippie know how much
he
mattered to
me
, how much I appreciated his love and friendship.

A small smile crossed my face as I realized that Pippie would have been the first one telling me not to beat myself up over something like that. Even after I told him about Selena getting sick, he didn't lecture me. His response was, “Even good people do bad shit sometimes.”

Bishop Wilson wrapped up his eulogy and returned to his seat. First Lady was in the seat next to his, but there was a coldness that was apparent between them. They weren't holding hands the way they usually would during services, and neither one stole so much as a glance in the other's direction.

The church filled with the sound of “Precious Lord, Take My Hand” sung by the choir. Before they'd finished the first verse, tears were streaming down my face. Aaron directed the choir, and after their final chord, he approached the podium, his face wet with tears too. The thought crossed my mind that if it had been me in that casket, he might not have shed one tear, and that hurt me deeply. Aaron and I were so tight; we should have been there for each other, grieving this loss, but Jackson Young had destroyed any chance of that.

“Good afternoon.” Aaron addressed the congregation, and I could see how hard he was struggling to hold himself together. I had the urge to go up there and put a hand on his shoulder, offer him support, but of course, those days were over between us. Out of respect to Pippie, I stayed in my seat, no matter how painful it was.

“Brothers and sisters, I really have no idea what I'm doing up here. What can I say to make any of this better for anyone, including myself? Tragedy seems to be hanging over me like a black cloud lately.” I heard some people in the church murmuring in agreement. Everybody there had witnessed their beloved choir director being left at the altar, and most of them probably knew about our fight. “It's all around me to the point where I can't get away from it. And this, the reason we're here today, is the worst of it. This is permanent. Unfixable. John Nixon, the man we knew as Pippie, was an amazing human being. He was, and will always be, my best friend. He was a good man.

“Like a lot of us, he made some big mistakes in life, but his love and commitment to his friends remained consistent. He was there for me when I made some pretty stupid mistakes too. He had my back through it all, the good and the bad. He was the most loyal person I knew. Once he had your back, he had it for life.”

“Amen!” somebody shouted out from the audience. I was squirming in my seat. Was Aaron taking a jab at me, talking about loyalty? Would he really take his grudge that far, to carry it right into the middle of Pippie's funeral? I turned my head, trying to look everywhere except at Aaron up at that altar, insulting me like that.

“Well, that makes me think of someone else. It makes me think about my other best friend—my brother, my heart, and the one who originally coined us ‘the Chocolate Musketeers' way back when.” I sat up in my seat, unable to believe what I was hearing.

I turned to face Aaron, and our eyes locked. The look he gave me was everything.

“Pippie made a point to remind me that ‘you can't make new old friends,' and boy, was he right,” Aaron said with a sad laugh. He moved away from the podium and spoke directly to me.

“Ross, I know we ain't been right lately, but we both know that if Pippie were here, he would tell us to get our acts together. That with him gone, we need to lean on each other, and we can't let nothing get in the way of our friendship. We owe him that. We're family, man, and I need you.” Aaron motioned toward me, a water­fall of tears streaming down his face.

“Yeah, me too,” I shouted out, overwhelmed by the love he'd just given me. Damn if Pippie wasn't right.

“Then what you doing? Get up here, man,” Aaron ordered as people jumped up and started shouting, clapping, and stomping their feet in support. I raced up the stairs and joined him, hugging and blubbering and throwing “I love you”s back and forth.

“We been through it, and now I know we have to stick together. I'm sorry. I love you, man,” I told him. I swear it felt like Pippie was watching over us, pushing us back together. This was exactly what he would have wanted.

Aaron returned to the podium, bringing me with him. He waited for the crowd to settle back into their seats before he spoke.

“After this service, we're going to go into the meeting hall for some food, but it won't be just about eating. No. There is going to be some celebrating. Pippie liked to have a good time, and it's up to us to have a good time for him.”

“Amen!” people shouted from the audience. The mood in the place had lightened considerably, until Aaron brought it crashing back down.

“Holy shit!” he said, still holding the microphone so that every­one heard him.

I hit him with my elbow, whispering, “Man, what's wrong with you? You know we're in church.” He ignored me, his gaze fixed on something in the back of the church. I looked back there, and then I understood what had him so worked up.

“Oh, shit. Tia.” The words left my mouth this time.

The entire congregation swelled in unison and turned to face the back of the church. There was Aaron's ex-fiancée, standing in the entrance of the church.

Tears were forming in the corners of my eyes as I listened to the bishop eulogize Pippie. There were a lot of people who deserved to die, more than a few I knew personally, but Pippie wasn't one of them. Pippie was the one person who had consistently shown me genuine kindness and tried to make sure I felt at home in New York. He was one of the good guys, and his death had really affected me. It reminded me how completely random and unfair life could be. But it wasn't the first time I'd experienced an unexpected loss. Maybe that's why this was hitting me so hard.

I hurried out of my seat, down the aisle to the back of the church, and out the double doors as a waterfall of tears poured down my face. It took a few minutes, but I finally pulled myself together. I wanted to be back in there to pay my respects to Pippie. As I turned to head back in, I heard footsteps rushing toward me.

“What is wrong with you? I know you are not crying over this dude,” Lynn seethed when she got close enough to see my face.

I dropped my hand from the door to the church and pulled her away from the entrance where we wouldn't be heard. “He was my friend,” I said, trying to wipe away the evidence of my connection to Pippie before it caused any further drama.

“That dude was not your friend.” She spat out the words, her tone tinged with a blind jealousy. Lynn was not the kind of person to share me, at least not emotionally, and to see me broken up over him sent her on the warpath. She grabbed me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes intensely. “All he was doing was being nice so he could screw you. And getting in the way of your goal. Remember that? The reason you came here?”

I refused to let her talk that way about Pippie without defending him. “He was my friend, and he was a really decent guy,” I responded, staring her down in the hope that she would back the fuck up.

She let go of my shoulders but stayed up in my face. “Yeah, well, you done met a whole lot of decent fucking guys over the years. In the end they all wanted one thing, and once they got it they were gone. Only difference is this one's not gonna have that chance,” she said with not the slightest bit of sympathy for the fact that the man was murdered.

I did love this woman, but she didn't understand that I could have feelings for men that didn't travel in a sexual or romantic direction. Unlike her experience of being lesbian from birth, I considered myself bisexual and had thoroughly enjoyed sexual relationships with men in the past. Lynn was my first full-on relationship with a woman. Consequently, she was always insecure, afraid that deep down, I still craved the D.

“He was my
friend
!” I hissed at her. I just wanted to be left alone to grieve without having to justify my feelings to anyone.

“So, what? You were into him?” She kept at it, unable to process the idea that a man and a woman could be just friends.

Instead of letting things escalate further, I took things in a different direction and tried to reason with her. “He looked out for me. He even went to the pharmacy and picked up my medication.”

She sucked her teeth, unimpressed. “Yeah, well, I should be the only one who looks out for you, and don't you forget it.” She grabbed me and pulled me close. I pushed her away, my anger growing.

“I can't have friends now?” I challenged. I'd been forced to become independent at an early age, so there was no way I would stand for another person trying to control me now. Not even a lover—a really good lover. I'd rather walk away and be by my damn self than be a slave to anybody.

“You better remember we are here to do a job. You need to get your shit together,” she shot back. Changing the subject was her subtle way of backing down, so I relaxed.

“I know that,” I agreed, my tears stopping as quickly as they had begun.

“Then you know that you need to go in there and use that emotion to get Aaron into our bedroom.”

That certainly wasn't my purpose for going to the funeral, but maybe she was right and there was a way to turn my grieving into an advantage with Aaron. After all, we both had a connection to him. People fell into bed at funerals and weddings for a whole lot of reasons, including shared grief. I stopped brushing away the wet spots on my cheeks and decided to let them glisten for everyone to see. I would have to thank Lynn for her smart idea later, in private.

“Let's go back in,” I said. We headed back toward the entrance, where I caught sight of someone else stepping inside. My mouth dropped open. I stopped dead in my tracks, causing Lynn to bump into my leaden form.

“What the hell, Desiree?” Lynn said, nudging me to move forward, but I couldn't take my eyes off the woman as I watched the door to the church closing behind her.

I turned around to Lynn. “You are not going to believe this.”

“What?”

“That was Tia. She's here!”

I took a moment to pause and gather my nerves before walking up the steps to First Jamaica Ministries. At one time, this place felt like coming home; the people here were my family. I had so many good memories of this church, but now everything was tainted by the pain and anger that had become my constant companions ever since I spotted Vinnie Taylor at the bar. If only I could turn back the hands of time…

But I wasn't there to relive the good old days. I was there to pay my respects to Pippie. As hard as it would be to set foot in this place, to face the inevitable stares and whispers, I owed it to him to be there. I needed to make amends in some way, even if that meant showing up to a place I'd run from the past few weeks.

If only Pippie had listened to me that night. His life might not have ended so tragically. I would live with the guilt for the rest of my life. I know some people say everything happens for a reason, but why did Pippie have to spot me driving by him that night? If only I had driven a different route, we wouldn't have ended up in the alley, and none of this would have happened.

But it was happening, and as I set foot in the sanctuary, I realized I had underestimated the reaction my presence would bring. I had foolishly imagined that I could slip into the last pew, unnoticed, and say a few prayers for his soul. Instead, Aaron spotted me from the altar, where he was standing with Ross, and soon every head swiveled in my direction, their stares piercing me.

Standing before the mass of people, my body rooted itself to the spot. Even if I wanted to run, I couldn't. When Aaron stepped down from the podium and headed toward me, I willed my feet to move, to no avail. My heart was pounding as I watched the man I loved coming down the aisle.

“Where have you been?” His voice was tinged with anger, but in his eyes I could see relief. It was the first time we'd laid eyes on each other since our wedding day. Oh, how I longed to feel his arms around me.

I stood there mute. How could I even begin to answer his question, to share with him my horrible secrets?

“Tia, answer me.”

“This was a really bad idea,” I said, taking a step back, ready to bolt for the closest door. “I can't be here.”

I turned to flee, too ashamed to face him any longer, but I felt a large hand on my shoulder, preventing me from going anywhere.

“You okay?” Bishop Wilson said in a voice that instantly soothed me. I began to cry quietly.

Monique came toward me and put an arm on my shoulder, whispering kind words in my ear. “You're okay, Tia. You're safe here with us.”

“Tia, I need to know why you left,” Aaron said, still sounding agitated. As desperate as I was to escape, he was just as desperate to get some answers. I had caused that poor man so much pain. Just one more thing I would forever feel guilty about.

“Give her a minute, Aaron,” Bishop said. “I think she needs a little time to calm down, and then maybe we can all talk.”

I was trembling as he took my hand. “Come on, Tia. Let's go in the back together,” he said to me. “Monique, get one of the assistant pastors to continue the service, please, and Aaron, get back up there. Your choir needs you.”

“But—” His face was full of resistance.

“Come on, son. Pippie deserves no less,” he said. “I'll come get you later when Tia feels ready to talk.”

Without protest, I allowed him to lead me down the aisle toward the front. I kept my eyes straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the pews. Unfortunately, that meant the only place I could look was straight ahead, where Pippie's body lay in a casket.

I paused my steps, staring at Pippie's lifeless body.

“Would you like to pay your last respects to your friend?” Bishop asked.

My eyes flooded with tears as I approached the casket. “Oh, Pippie, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry,” I whispered, then turned away, wiping my tears.

When he thought I was ready, the bishop took me by the arm and led me out of the sanctuary toward his office. It felt so strange to be back there, passing by the desk where I had worked happily, never suspecting the way my life would soon be turned inside out. There were unfamiliar objects on the desk; it was obvious someone else was working there now. That caused me a pang of jealousy, though I fully understood why they had hired someone new. As dark as my soul had become, I no longer felt worthy of that position anyway.

“Have a seat.” Bishop directed me to the chair in front of his desk.

I sat down, still shaking with emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. Coming back to this church, and especially seeing Aaron, had proven to be much harder than I imagined it would be. Now, sitting before a man I respected like a father, I felt small and pitiful. What would Bishop Wilson think of me if he knew how far from grace I'd fallen?

He sat down behind his desk and leaned forward, hands folded, waiting for me to look up and meet his eyes. When I finally did, he said, “I think it's time you told your pastor just what is going on with you.” It was a command, not a question.

I took a deep breath. “Bishop, if I did, I'm not sure you would believe it.”