The First Lady (23 page)

“I appreciate that, Lisa Mae. But I want you to understand that I’m committed to helping her fight this terrible addiction.”

“Of course, T.K.” I reassured him. Where was this going?

“So … she’s going stay with me for a while. This way I can help her, be there to pray with her at any hour of the night when she has to fight through her body’s cravings. I’ve been through what she’s going through. It’s not easy. You need all the support you can get.”

I wanted to cry, but I was so angry, the tears wouldn’t come. What the hell did he mean, she was staying with him for a while? He couldn’t do that. Didn’t he know how that would look?

“But T.K… .” I was about to argue but then just gave up. I heard Loretta come into the room, and I turned to look at her. I’m sure my face revealed my inner turmoil, and hers reflected sympathy for my pain. I needed some of her comforting. Maybe she could help me see a light at the end of this dark tunnel my relationship with the bishop had entered. I needed to get off the phone and talk to her.

“Whatever you think is best, T.K.,” I said, feeling defeated. “Look. I’ll see you in the morning when I bring your car. I’m lying down, and I’m a little tired.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Lisa Mae.” He sounded as anxious as I was to end this uncomfortable conversation. I wondered if he’d be willing to listen to me should I need him in the middle of the night, the way he’d be helping Marlene now that she was living in his house.

“Good night, T.K.” I was so mad that the second I heard a dial tone, I threw the phone across the room.

“What is the matter with you?” Loretta asked as she ducked out of the way of the flying phones.

“That was T.K. on the phone. Do you know he moved that crackhead junkie woman into his house?”

Loretta straightened up and took a deep breath. “Well,” she started as she ran her hands down her yellow-and-pink rose-printed bathrobe, “the bishop’s only going to allow her to stay with him so long before he realizes she’s a lost cause.”

“Hmph,” I grunted. “I really don’t see how. She’s going to be living with Bishop, for Christ’s sake! Next thing I know, she’ll be sitting in the front pew during worship with her hair all done up, singing and clapping like she done already been delivered from her habit or like she ain’t but one prayer from it.”

Loretta laughed until she doubled over. “She might be one prayer away from delivery, but at the same time, she ain’t but a rock away from being a fiend.”

I loosened up and was able to chuckle myself. “Yeah, but I’m sure T.K. will keep her far away from that stuff. Ain’t no way she’s going out to get no crack while he’s around.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but just because she can’t go to the crack don’t mean the crack can’t come to her.” A mischievous grin covered Loretta’s face. I knew the way her mind worked, and I was pretty certain of where this conversation was going, but I had to test it. I refused to be the one to suggest out loud what I knew Loretta was leading up to.

“And just how do you suppose the crack comes to her?” I asked as I stood up and folded my arms.

It was as if Loretta couldn’t wait for me to ask that question. She raced over to me and started running down the plan. “We take it to her,” she said easily.

“What?” I frowned to keep myself from smiling right along with her. What she was suggesting was wrong, very wrong, and I knew it. I didn’t want to believe I would go along with the plan, but I also knew as well as Loretta did that she wouldn’t have to work very hard to convince me. Still, as someone who viewed myself as a good Christian, I had to at least try to resist the temptation to play so downright dirty.

“Come on, now you’re talking like you’re on crack, Loretta. I’m going to make me some tea. You want a cup?”

“Sure,” Loretta said, following me into the kitchen.

“So, we take it to her, huh?” I questioned, trying to make the question sound casual as I prepared our tea.

“I’m serious, Lisa.” Loretta sat down at the small kitchen table.

“Even if I were to think twice about this twisted little plan of yours, just where on earth would we get it?”

Loretta shrugged her shoulders. Just as I had suspected, she hadn’t thought that far in advance. Nevertheless, she was willing to try to come up with a solution. “Well, hell, I’m sure we could go right over there to one of those corners near Forty Projects and cop something.”

“Cop something,” I repeated, using Loretta’s street lingo with a little laugh. “Loretta, you been watching
New Jack City
again?”

Loretta giggled. “Something wrong with that?”

As crazy as it was, I actually began to contemplate her plan as I poured each of us a cup of tea. Could I really go through with it? I mean, was it really so important to me to become the first lady of First Jamaica Ministries that I was willing to compromise another person’s life? Well, yes, I decided, it really was. Not only did I have my heart and soul set on being by the bishop’s side, but there was no denying that I would be the best woman for the job. That church needed me. After all, who else could fill Charlene Wilson’s shoes as well as I could? Certainly not Marlene, drug addict or not. And if I let her stay in T.K.'s house long enough to get clean, she might have her own scheme up her sleeve—one that would have her still living in his house, in the perfect position to take my prize. No, I couldn’t let that happen. We would have to be careful not to supply her with enough crack that she could overdose, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked Loretta’s idea. All we needed to do was give her enough to make it clear to T.K. that this junkie was a lost cause.

“You really think she’s just one rock away from losing it again, huh?” I questioned.

“Mmm-hmm,” Loretta said, blowing on the cup to cool her steaming tea.

“Let’s say we did take the crack to her. How in the world would we get her to smoke it?”

“Here’s what I know of recovering addicts: give ‘em any type of mood-altering substance, and it will lead them straight back to their drug of choice.” Loretta looked inside her teacup. “Suppose we put brandy in some tea and then offer it to her? She’ll be too high to know what hit her.”

I nodded. “Okay … okay … I see where you’re going with this.”

“Before we go, we could somehow leave the crack there for her to discover. Someplace she’d be sure to find it, though, like the bathroom, perhaps.”

I don’t know how Loretta thought of that scheme so quickly, but she had me excited. “Loretta, as strange as it sounds, your plan could actually work. We just have to make sure T.K. is out of the house on some kind of church business. We could pay a visit to Marlene then.”

“Sounds good to me.” Loretta grinned slyly.

“All right, then, Operation Crackhead is officially a go.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Loretta said. She raised her glass, and we clinked our cups together.

“Cheers,” we said in unison.

I have to admit, I felt ten times better after talking to Loretta. She’d never let me down during my times of need—a true friend indeed. Knowing Loretta and I would be off to complete the first part of our mission in the next few days put my mind at ease. Given our plan, it would be only a matter of time before that crackhead would be out of my man’s house. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, I thought with satisfaction.

I hung up the phone with Lisa and released a heavy sigh. She’d been a real trooper, but I knew she wasn’t happy with the idea of Marlene staying at my house. I would have felt the same way if I were in her shoes. But with Tanisha and Dante down in D.C. taking care of their baby and Aubrey, somebody from the family had to help Marlene, and that person was me.

I checked in on Marlene, who was sound asleep in the guestroom, and a single tear traced a path down my cheek. At one time, Marlene was the prettiest woman I’d ever seen. Now, even after a long bubble bath and wearing a clean nightgown I took from Charlene’s closet, Marlene still looked like a vagrant. I touched her matted hair. The three braids looked like dreadlocks.

“Marlene, girl, what have you done to yourself?” I whispered, shaking my head. “You were so beautiful.”

I closed my eyes, letting my imagination travel into the past, and I remembered who Marlene was when I fell in love with her, before the drugs took over.

Lord, how could You let this happen to her? She’s a good person.

I pulled the covers up over her shoulders, tucking her in, then turned out the lights and left the bedroom. “Sweet dreams, Marlene,” I said. “May tomorrow be a better day for all of us.”

I walked downstairs to my study. Stooping in front of the closet, I rummaged through the boxes piled on the floor until I finally found what I was searching for. Picking up the old shoe box, I carried it to my recliner and sat down. When I removed the top of the box, I looked at the photos piled inside, taking them out one at a time. Each picture contained a memory from my teen years. I saw pictures taken at King’s Dominion, Virginia Beach, football games, basketball games, the prom, and my first day at college. Marlene seemed to be in every one. I still considered myself lucky that she even wanted to date me back in high school. Every boy in the school wanted to be with Marlene Hernandez, the fly half-black, half-Dominican girl with the dynamite figure.

I paused when I came across the picture of Marlene and me at our high school prom. Our Jheri-curl hairstyles made me laugh out loud, especially when I noticed the Jheri-curl juice on the shoulders of my powder-blue tuxedo and on her light-blue prom dress. We thought we were hot stuff back then. And I guess we were. You couldn’t tell us nothin'.

I loved Marlene so much back then, I would’ve killed somebody over her. She was the first woman I ever slept with, and you know what they say about a man and his first—he’ll never forget her. And I never forgot Marlene. Even after Charlene and I were married, I prayed to God every night that Marlene would be safe. I had no way of knowing for sure if she was doing okay, because once I left Virginia, we lost contact. But no matter how much distance was between us or how much time had passed, I always held a special place in my heart for Marlene Hernandez. Even now, I would do just about anything to have the woman I fell in love with become herself again and be drug-free for good. She was such an important part of my life, and with Charlene gone, I couldn’t afford to lose much more. I still really didn’t understand how things turned out the way they did. Then again, who was I to understand God’s will?

I closed my eyes and shook my head. God knew my heart; I would spend an eternity trying to help Marlene if I had to. But I knew I might not be able to do it alone, so I went over to the desk to retrieve the phone.

“Deacon, how are you?” I asked when Deacon Dickens answered.

“I can’t complain, Bishop. How about you? To what honor do I owe this call?”

“I was hoping I could speak to Savannah. Is she there?”

“No, Bishop. I thought she was with you.” He sounded alarmed.

I was at a loss for words. I knew that Savannah had chosen not to tell her father about her musical aspirations, but she never told me she was using me as her alibi. I didn’t want to lie to Deacon Dickens, but neither did I want to reveal the truth and ruin things for Savannah. So, feeling like a dummy, all I could do was stutter, “Oh … um … well… um … I just… um …”

I guess he sensed my discomfort, because the deacon actually offered an explanation for me. I don’t know if he believed his own words, but at least the awkward moment was ended. “Oh, so she must’ve just left, huh? Well, she isn’t in right yet, but I’ll be sure to have her give you a call. Or better yet, Bishop, you should give her a shout on her cell. Do you have the number?”

“No, I don’t,” I answered, wondering if this small admission would somehow compromise Savannah’s plans.

Deacon Dickens recited the number, seemingly unfazed by the fact that I didn’t already have it; then he bid me a good day. “Now, Bishop, I suggest you keep that number handy. You may need it again sometime.”

“You’re right, Deacon. I will.” And if Savannah could help me the way I thought she might be able to, then he was right, I would probably be dialing her number frequently. Just not for the reasons that Deacon Dickens hoped.

As soon as I disconnected the call with the deacon, I dialed Savannah’s cell phone.

“Hello,” she answered tentatively. She probably didn’t recognize my phone number, and since she was out of the house under false pretenses, her nerves were probably on edge.

“Savannah, it’s Bishop. Your father gave me your number.” I heard her gasp and realized that I probably hadn’t helped her nervousness one bit. “It’s okay. I know what you told him, and I didn’t give him any reason to believe anything different.” I didn’t scold her for the lies she had obviously been telling, but I couldn’t let her think I approved. “I want you to understand, though, that I did not lie to him, and I will not lie to him in the future.”

“Oh, okay,” she said quietly. Poor girl would probably be a wreck when she went home. I would say a prayer for her to be forgiven for the string of lies she would surely have to tell her father that night.

“Do you have a minute to talk to me?” I asked.

“Um, yes, I can talk. Is everything okay? You don’t sound like yourself.” Her own worry about the predicament with her father vanished quickly, and now she was concerned for my feelings. Savannah was a sweet girl. Her selflessness made me think she was just the person I needed to help Marlene.

“Well, to be honest, it was quite uncomfortable talking to your father after he said he thought you were with me.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Bishop. I’ve been at the studio. Is he angry that I lied?”

“I don’t know that he’s figured it out yet. But I don’t want to get into that now. I called to ask a favor of you.”

“A favor. What kind of favor?”

“My very good friend, Marlene, who is also the mother of my daughter, Tanisha, is living with me now. She’s relapsed on crack cocaine, and I need some help. I couldn’t think of anyone else to call except you.”