The First Lady (21 page)

“You’re not dressed for church, Sister Monique. And come to think of it, I haven’t seen you in church for a couple Sundays or so. Is everything—”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the clerk interrupted, “but this box is damaged. Would you like to exchange it for another?” He was waving the pregnancy test in front of me like a flag. The damn thing might as well have been a neon sign for Alison that read,
sister monique thinks she’s pregnant!

I stood there momentarily frozen as I looked at Alison. To my surprise, I saw concern in her eyes. In all my years attending First Jamaica Ministries, no woman of the congregation had even tried to fake concern for me.

“Ma’am, do you want this one?” the clerk asked.

“I’ll take that one,” I told the clerk. I was so embarrassed.

“Your total is $23.58,” the clerk said, but I barely heard him. My mind was racing, trying to come up with anything at all that I could say to Sister Alison at this point.

“Miss, your total is $23.58,” the clerk repeated.

“Oh yes, I’m sorry.” I turned to the clerk and pulled two twenty-dollar bills out of my purse. I handed the money to the clerk and grabbed the pregnancy test. I wanted to rush out of the store without another word, but I managed to offer a quick “Good-bye” to Alison so as not to appear too rude as I stepped away from the counter.

I had just made it to my car and was unlocking the door when I heard that familiar call once again. “Sister Monique? Sister Monique?” Alison called.

Why was this woman following me? Did she just not have a life? Maybe what I had imagined to be a look of concern on her face was really amusement. I just wanted to get out of there, so I ignored her as I nervously tried to unlock my door. When I fumbled and dropped my keys, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“Sister Monique, you left your change in there.” She wasn’t going away, so I turned to face her. Alison held out my change in her hand. Her face wore that same look again, and despite my momentary doubts, I still believed it was concern she was feeling for me.

Keeping my head down, I scooped the money from her hand. “Oh, thank you, Sister Alison. Hope you enjoy church.”

“Wait a minute, Sister Monique.” I tried to put my key in the door, but Alison reached out. “You left your receipt too.” She held the paper out to me, the words HOME PREGNANCY TEST clearly printed on the itemized slip. I knew she had to have seen the words as she handed me the paper. “I saw what the clerk was holding. I also saw you put the box down on the counter,” she confirmed.

At that point, the flood gates opened and the tears just began pouring out. I took the receipt from her with trembling hands. I was scared. Scared of being pregnant and scared of what Alison might go back and tell the people in the church. Although I hadn’t been back in a few weeks and wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to return, I wanted it to be on my terms. This news might be enough to make some of those women bar the doors if they ever saw me approaching the church again. Then Alison did something that made me think she wouldn’t be running back to the women of the church to share my heartache.

“Now, now, it’s gonna be all right.” She wrapped her arms around me, and the anointing in her started to comfort me.

Even as I was feeling the relief of her kindness, I couldn’t help but think,
If only these were the bishop’s arms around me.
I wanted to smack myself for being so unrealistic.

“You wanna talk about it? Why don’t you get in my car and I’ll drive us down to that coffee shop on Farmers Boulevard? That way we can talk about things, okay?”

I didn’t know what I wanted at that moment, but I knew I didn’t want to be alone, so I nodded my head in agreement.

“But what about church?” I asked her. “I don’t want you to miss church. And your husband’s sick.”

“He’s a grown man. He’ll be all right. And some things are worth missing church for,” Alison assured me as she took my arm and began leading me to her car. “And you being pregnant is one of them.”

Ten minutes later, we were sitting down in the coffee shop, discussing my situation over a cup of coffee.

“What makes you think you’re pregnant?” Alison asked.

“I’m three weeks late. My period is never late.” My eyes were starting to fill up again. I couldn’t believe I was sharing this information with someone I didn’t know very well, but I was too emotional to care at the moment. Besides, Sister Alison had never given me any indication that she was as cruel and catty as some of those other women. She basically kept to herself and took care of her child and her husband, who was paralyzed after a vicious mugging.

“Oh, wow. That’s not good. Not good at all.” She shook her head and frowned, but her expression seemed void of any judgment about the fact that I was unmarried and possibly pregnant.

“Tell me about it. I’m forty years old. The last thing I need to be is pregnant.” I wiped my face as tears began to roll down my cheeks again.

“So, do you know who the father is if you’re pregnant?” Her question was like an unexpected slap across my face. Maybe she was judging me after all. It almost sounded like the father’s identity was of personal concern to her. Did she know who the father might be? I wondered.

“Of course I know who the father is! And before you ask, he’s not married, okay?” I did not appreciate her question or her sudden attitude, so I gave her some attitude back. “Don’t tell me that you’re one of them too.”

“One of who?” Her voice had picked up a defensive edge.

“One of them gossiping women at the church who thinks they know me and everything I do and who I do it with,” I snapped. “Or even worse, you’re one of them women who just listen to the gossiping women at the church. Not that it matters, because one’s no worse than the other.”

Alison was briefly silent, and her face softened. “You’re absolutely right, Sister Monique, and I’m sorry,” she apologized. “And, no, I’m not one of them, but yes, I guess I did allow the devil to use me as a listening ear instead of rebuking their words. Again, I’m sorry.”

Everything about Alison seemed genuine, so it was easy to accept her apology. “But anyway,” I continued with a less aggressive tone, “I know exactly who the father is
if
it turns out that I am pregnant.”

I know she wanted to ask me who he was, but she probably didn’t want to risk looking nosy. Then we’d be right back to where we were a few minutes ago. I wondered if she had any idea but decided she couldn’t. If she thought it was the bishop, she wouldn’t be sitting there so calmly. After all, she was his secretary and the former first lady’s best friend. Come to think of it, since she was Charlene Wilson’s friend, I was surprised she hadn’t already prejudged me … or maybe she had. Hell, I didn’t know who I could trust among those churchwomen, but I decided to take a chance on Sister Alison for the time being.

“Well, have you told this man that you might be pregnant? He does have some say in this, doesn’t he? Maybe he’ll want to get married.”

I shook my head vigorously. Up until Alison asked, I’d forgotten about what telling the bishop would mean, what it would do to him, what it would do to his life. It would possibly mean destroying him as a man of God, perhaps even destroying the church. But raising the baby on my own would be hard. Was I willing to sacrifice my way of life, and a child’s right to its father, just to save the bishop’s career?

“So, are you going to tell him?” Alison pushed. “I don’t know,” I told her after considering it for a short time. “I just don’t know. He’s a pretty important man and I love him. I just don’t wanna ruin his life.”

A
LISON AND THE
F
IRST
L
ADY

I dropped off Monique at her car and headed straight for the cemetery. But when I got there, it took me a while to get out of my car. I sat behind the steering wheel, wondering how I could break this news to her. Of all the possible scenarios she and I had discussed before her death, a pregnancy never even entered our minds.

When I finally stepped out and walked to the first lady’s gravesite, I paced around for a good five minutes without saying a word. Suddenly, a vision of Charlene seemed to appear out of nowhere. She wasn’t wearing the same beige-colored dress she always wore. She was wearing red—the devil’s colors. And I have to admit, it scared me. Did she already know? Lord knows I would do anything for Charlene, but what I’d heard from Monique was something I did not want to tell her.

“I guess you’re wondering why I’m so quiet. Well, I’ve got some bad news … really bad news, and I just don’t know how to tell you.”

I paced around for a few more seconds. All the while, I could hear her pleading with me to tell her what was going on. I tried to open my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out, at least not at first.

When I could finally form the words, I said, “I was on my way to the church this morning to open up the Sunday school when I saw Sister Monique pull into the pharmacy. I hadn’t seen her at Sunday services or around the church in a while, and I figured it would be good to get an update. She seemed to have dropped out of the race for the bishop’s heart, but you never know what a woman like her is doing behind the scenes.”

I sat on the grass next to Charlene’s headstone and continued, plucking blades of grass nervously as I spoke. “I sat in my car in the parking lot for a while before I went into the pharmacy. I figured I’d casually bump into her and strike up a conversation, but I was totally unprepared for what I saw, Charlene.” I paused, pulling up larger clumps of grass as I tried to stir up the courage to finally drop the bomb. “Lord have mercy, Charlene. You’d never believe what that woman had in her hands. A pregnancy test!”

I could just see the first lady’s face now. She would be angry, yes, probably fuming. But she’d be hurt too.

“Well, you know from that point on, I had to find out whether the pregnancy test was hers or not, so I became Alison the church mother. I took her over to that little coffee shop over on Farmers Boulevard and listened to her spill her guts for close to two hours. That woman is so warped that she actually tried to convince me she’s not a tramp and hasn’t messed around with any of those men she’s rumored to have slept with. But you know I know the truth. You’re the one who told me about all those men she’d been with.”

I stood up, brushed the blades of grass off my dress, and began pacing again. In the pharmacy when I first saw the pregnancy test, I had tried to convince myself that Monique and the bishop hadn’t really slept together and that Monique’s child was fathered by someone else. Unfortunately, by the time I finished talking to Monique that morning, I was pretty well convinced that Bishop T.K. Wilson was the man she believed was the father. And if Charlene were holding out any hope that the bishop hadn’t really been with Sister Monique, I would sadly have to burst that bubble now.

“I’ll tell you something, Charlene. Sister Monique has brought one scenario into this whole thing that we never planned for, and that’s a baby. ‘Cause I’m telling you, that girl is pregnant.” I stared at her tombstone and heaved an apologetic sigh. “Not only is she pregnant, but I’m also sure she’s pregnant by the bishop.”

I hated being the one to bring this terrible news to Charlene, but I had promised before her death that I would help orchestrate her husband’s courtships from behind the scenes and make sure he married the right woman. Even though we’d hit a serious bump in the road, I wasn’t about to step out of the driver’s seat now.

“Charlene, what I need to know now is what you wanna do about it. We never wrote a letter for this.” I sat down again and waited for an answer that I knew would, realistically, never come from my friend. For the first time, we’d just have to let things take their natural course.

It had been a very busy day, with a christening and a wedding ceremony to perform. Now I was at home, changing out of my suit and into a tuxedo for the awards ceremony hosted by the civic group 100 Black Men. I was supposed to be getting an award, but I’d much rather have stayed home to watch the big fight on HBO with James. Of course, I couldn’t admit that in front of my date.

Lisa Mae was waiting for me downstairs, eager to get to the elegant affair. She looked beautiful in her evening gown, and I would be proud to have her by my side that night. We’d been dating a little more than three months, and this would be our first affair together outside of the church. At the church, however, she’d already been taking over some of the duties of a first lady. Not that I minded. She’d actually taken a lot of weight off my shoulders.

The thing that bothered me, though, was that after all that time, we still hadn’t really gotten to know each other on a personal level. Oh, it was nice to have someone to accompany me to parties and events, and she was skilled at the art of public life. She knew just what to say to make people like her and feel good about themselves at the same time. This trait would serve her well if she did become the next first lady of First Jamaica Ministries—something I’d been giving a lot of thought to and something she seemed to be hinting at more often the past few weeks. But if we were really going to be together, it would be nice to spend an evening together, just the two of us. We hadn’t eaten a meal alone since our first date, when we went to the Olive Garden, and even then we’d had the scholarship committee playing chaperones, one or more of them passing by our table every few minutes under the pretense of heading to the restroom. It always seemed like someone from the church was hovering over us, or even more often, her friend Loretta. This was an issue I would have to discuss with her at some point soon, but tonight would once again have to be about our public courtship, not a private relationship.