The First Lady (10 page)

It took us a good fifteen minutes just to get out of the crowded parking lot. By the time we arrived at a diner, it was close to ten o’clock, and I needed a cup of coffee just to stay awake. I generally stay out this late.

“I swear, I’d give anything to do what Yolanda Adams does—singing unto the Lord all over the world for a living,” I said as we waited for the waitress to bring us our coffee. “Now that’s living.”

“Whew-wee, Sister Savannah! If you could have seen how your eyes just lit up,” the bishop said to me. “You said that like it’s truly your heart’s desire.”

“Well, it is, Bishop,” I said sincerely.

“Then why haven’t you done anything to pursue it?” he asked in an encouraging tone.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know the first thing about that business. I wouldn’t even know where to start, Bishop. Besides, I’m no Yolanda Adams.”

“You sure aren’t. You’re Savannah Dickens,” he said with authority. “You’ve got your own voice and style that you can’t compare to Yolanda Adams’s.”

“You really think so, Bishop?” I asked, waiting for more confirmation and praise, something I heard so infrequently from my father and was so glad to get anywhere I could.

“I know so,” he said as I beamed. “Why don’t we look into starting off with maybe you and the church choir doing a CD? We’ll find out about booking a studio or recording right there in the sanctuary if need be. You gotta start somewhere.”

“Are you serious, Bishop?”

“The real question is, Savannah, Are
you
serious?”

Just then the waitress placed two cups of coffee down in front of us.

“Thank you,” I said to the waitress as she walked away.

“I sure do hope your father is okay,” the bishop said while he added creamer and sugar to his coffee. “I didn’t think about him before suggesting we stop for coffee. Do you want to call and check on him?”

I was disappointed that he had changed the subject after all the praise he was heaping on me. I sighed as a shade of guilt flushed over me, both for my own vanity and for my father’s deceit. “Bishop, I hate to say this, but I honestly don’t think my father’s sick at all.”

His cup was halfway to his mouth when he stopped in midair. “What are you saying, Savannah?”

“You’ll have to forgive my father, Bishop. I’m sure he means well, but I don’t believe he fell ill at the last minute at all.” It felt like a betrayal, revealing my father’s lies this way, but after the bishop had been praising my singing in ways my own father never could, part of me felt like lashing out at Daddy. “I don’t think he ever had any intentions of going to this concert with us in the first place.”

“Well, why in the world would he pretend to be ill?” The bishop chuckled as if I were speaking nonsense.

“He deliberately wanted to get me alone with you.” Still feeling guilty about my sudden lack of family loyalty, I immediately looked down into my cup of coffee, avoiding the bishop’s eyes. I began guzzling the coffee as if it were a glass of refreshing water instead of the scalding hot beverage that it was.

“Pardon me?” Bishop said as he almost choked on the sip of coffee he had just swallowed.

“I could be wrong, Bishop, but I think Daddy feels that if you and I … you know, get together or something, it will help him politically, improve his chances of moving up in the church.” There. I said it, and there was no turning back now.

The bishop looked a little disturbed by my comment. He took a sip of his coffee, swallowed hard, and then sat in thought for a few seconds before speaking.

“Savannah, if that is true, then I hate to say it,” Bishop said with a serious look in his eyes, “but I think Deacon Dickens has some issues.”

“More than you’ll ever know,” I said under my breath.

“What was that?”

I started to repeat myself, but then I just shook my head. “Oh, nothing, Bishop. Nothing I need to bother you with.” I set down my cup and wrapped my hands around it as I stared at my reflection in the black liquid.

The next thing I knew, the bishop reached over and cupped his hands around mine. “Savannah, I know your father can be hard on you sometimes. I mean, we all have our way of raising our children, but you’re a grown woman. I know the Bible says that we must obey our mother and father, but …” The bishop paused when he saw my eyes begin to water.

“Bishop, do you think there are exceptions to that scripture?” I asked him.

“Well, Savannah, there are no exceptions to God’s word, but—”

“Never mind, Bishop,” I interrupted him. “I didn’t mean to put you in a position to contradict the Bible.”

He stared at me for a moment, then released his hands from mine. “Look, Savannah, it’s already late, maybe too late to get into certain things right now, but my spirit tells me that there is something heavy on your heart. Perhaps I can help you to allow God to lift it.”

“What are you saying, Bishop?”

“I’m saying that I’d like to counsel with you, Savannah, find out what’s going on in there.” He pointed to my head. “But most importantly, what’s going on in there.” He pointed to my heart.

There was so much I could have told that man right then and there. I had more in my head and on my heart than anyone could have ever imagined. It was so easy to show up in church every Sunday and shout, “Holy, holy,” all the while screaming bloody murder inside. But perhaps he was right. Maybe it was about time I allowed it all to be lifted from me.

“Bishop … “ I paused. “I would like to take you up on that offer. You’re right, there is so much that’s gone on in my life, things that until now I never felt I could share. But I have to warn you, I think you are going to discover things that are going to make you think differently.”

“Savannah.” Once again, the bishop put his hands on mine. Just this little bit of contact, this connection to another human being, warmed me more than the coffee could have. “Don’t worry. Nothing you share with me can make me think any differently about you.”

Staring into the bishop’s eyes, I knew he spoke with sincerity. I looked down at my hands, which were covered with his. His thumbs rubbed the backs of my hands. For a brief moment, this feeling arose from me out of nowhere. It was a feeling that made me want to lean across the table and actually kiss the bishop. And just for a moment, I wrestled with the thought of actually doing so. But what if I were wrong? What if the last thing the bishop expected was for me to lean in and slob him down? I couldn’t dare embarrass myself in such a way. So, instead of allowing my lips to kiss his, I allowed them to say, “Thank you, Bishop.”

“No need to thank me, Savannah.” The bishop smiled and patted my hands. As we prepared to leave the restaurant, my heart already felt lighter, less burdened.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Bishop,” I said when we arrived at my house. He opened my door to help me out of the car. I took his hand and stepped out onto the sidewalk, wondering if he might try to kiss me good night. He didn’t, and I was only momentarily disappointed. The kindness he had shown me that night did far more for my spirit than any kiss could have. Sure, Daddy was probably peeking out the window, watching the bishop give me a platonic pat on the shoulder and a handshake. He would berate me for not leaning in to at least attempt a kiss, but I was not going to let Daddy spoil my mood tonight.

“I’ll call you later this week to set up a time for my first counsel with you,” I said.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he replied with reassurance.

“Oh, Bishop,” I turned around and called as I made my way to the front door. “About what you said … I’m not worried that you’ll change the way you think about me.” I glanced toward the window where I was fairly certain my father was watching.

I left my apartment about four o’clock in the afternoon and walked down to Jamaica Avenue to get some money from the ATM. I hate to admit it, but this was my third trip that day. I knew my account was getting low, but I had no idea I’d totally wiped it out until the ATM spit out a piece of paper that read, CURRENT BALANCE $1.06. If I wasn’t so concerned about getting high, I probably would have cried. Four hundred and sixty dollars, the entire amount I’d saved to buy Aubrey’s PlayStation 3 for his birthday, was now down the drain, or should I say up in smoke. And I couldn’t have cared less. Fuck Aubrey, and fuck his PlayStation 3. I worked for that money; he didn’t. Besides, it wasn’t like his sister wouldn’t buy him one if I didn’t. Anyway, now I had a much bigger dilemma—I was broke and I needed some money to get high.

I thought about collecting cans, but that shit took too long. I’d probably go out of my mind before I had enough money to buy one nickel. I walked back down to Guy Brewer Boulevard in search of Reggie. A couple of days ago he’d given me two nickels for free. I was sure I could talk him into giving me two more. Shit, like he said, I was his best customer, and I’d proven that in the past two days.

When I arrived on the boulevard, Reggie was standing next to two other dope boys who worked for him. He grinned, showing all of his gold teeth when he saw me. This time, though, he wasn’t running up to me like he had done in the past. He waited for me to come to him.

“What’s up, Ma? Whatchu need?” He no longer had that “I’m-trying-to-hook-you-up” sound to his voice. Now he had a matter-of-fact, let’s-get-to-business tone.

“Hey, Reggie, remember when you told me you’d give me credit if I needed it? Well, you think I could get some credit now?”

Reggie burst out laughing like I’d just told the world’s funniest joke. Not only was he laughing, but the two friends standing next to him were cracking up too. “Are you crazy? What you think this is, Baskin-Robbins? Ain’t no free samples around here. I told you the other day. From now on, you pay.”

I wasn’t beneath begging at this point, but before I could get half a word out of my mouth, Reggie told me, “Look, get your ass outta here. You bad for business.”

“C’mon, Reggie. I’m your best customer. You know how much money I’ve spent with you in the last two days? Over four hundred dollars. And I’m gonna spend more.”

“Well, that’s your problem, not mine.” He gave his boys a slap on the hand. “Now, I told you to get your ass outta here. Nonpaying customers are bad for business.”

“Don’t do this to me, Reggie, please. I’m really hurting. You know I’ma pay you back.”

“I don’t know shit. Get your ass out of here.” He balled up his fist as if he were about to punch me.

I started to walk away, thinking about what I could pawn, but before I got too far, Reggie called me back. “Yo, Ma, c’mere.”

I had to suppress a smile before I turned to look at him. I was so relieved that he was going to reconsider giving me some credit. As desperate as I was to get high, the thought didn’t even cross my mind that there would be strings attached.

“What’s up?” I asked eagerly.

“My boy Tone over here thinks you got a phat little ass for a crackhead.” He gestured toward his friend, a tall black boy in his early twenties who had to weigh more than three hundred and fifty pounds. “He said he’ll give you a couple of nicks if you suck his dick.” They all burst out laughing, but I couldn’t see anything funny. A few days before, I would have been offended by this ugly young boy asking me to do that to him, but not now. As much as I wanted to get high, this wasn’t funny to me. It was a serious business proposition.

“So, what’s up? You gon’ suck his dick or what?”

I scratched my arms, a telltale sign that my body was in need of some smoke. I stared at the large, acne-scarred young man in front of me. It wouldn’t take me long to get him off. The question was, How bad did I want a hit? Truth is, I wanted it bad, real bad. And it wasn’t like I’d never sucked a dick before to get some money or some crack. I just hadn’t done it in a while. Back in the day, I’d turned hundreds of tricks for crack. But this wasn’t back in the day, and I wasn’t that far from remembering what it was like to be clean. I’d dodged the AIDS bullet for damn near twenty years. Was I willing to take a chance that I could dodge it another night? Because tomorrow, I was gonna get myself clean.

“Well?” the big man said, breaking his silence. He grabbed his dick and smiled, pointing at the alley with his free hand.

“Look, bitch, make up your mind. We ain’t got all day,” Reggie said.

“You ain’t got to worry. I’ve made up my mind. I ain’t sucking nobody’s dick for no two nickels. I’ll pawn everything in my house first.”

I started to walk toward my apartment with a sense of pride, but goddamn Reggie couldn’t just let me leave like that. He shouted at my back, “Yo, Ma, now you pissed me off. When you come back, you gon’ suck all three of our dicks for two nicks of crack.” I kept walking, trying to ignore the way my body seemed to be screaming for a hit.

When I got into my apartment, I went straight to my room and emptied out my jewelry box. I didn’t have much, just a couple of thin gold chains and some costume jewelry, which were not enough to pawn for one nick, let alone two. I needed something I could sell quickly. Then it hit me: Aubrey’s Xbox.

I went into the living room and stared at the game system. He didn’t need it. I had already decided I was going to talk Tanisha into buying him a PlayStation 3 next week. Without another thought, I unhooked the Xbox and took all twenty of his games, thinking I could probably pawn the Xbox for fifty dollars and the games for at least five dollars each.

I checked the clock on the wall. It was 4:30. I had to get out of the house and to the pawnshop before Aubrey came home from basketball practice. I opened the window in his room. That way, when he came home and noticed his Xbox and games were missing, I could blame it on him by saying he must have left his window open and someone came in and stole them. I mean, why would he suspect me? I got a job … even if I hadn’t been to work in two days.

I made it down the stairs and at least halfway out the door before my conscience finally kicked in. I couldn’t do this to my baby. I couldn’t blame him for something I did. He’d worked his ass off last summer at the YMCA job program to save the money to buy his Xbox and the games. And no matter how high I’d been the last two days, I hadn’t forgotten the promise I’d made to Aubrey. His early childhood had been so messed up because of my addiction, and I swore I would make it up to him, that I would never let his life become like that again. If I took his games and pawned them now, I knew it would be only the first step down a long road that would put my baby right back in hell. Aubrey didn’t deserve that. His momma was weak, not him. I turned around and went back upstairs, knowing there was only one way I was gonna get high without destroying my son in the process.