The First Lady (7 page)

I wiped the tears from my eyes, then spoke to my friend. “Hey, Charlene, I gave them all their first letters. All in all, so far everything is working out exactly the way you planned. Marlene and the bishop are supposed to go to dinner tomorrow night. Gurrrl, she is walking around Forty Projects with her hair all done up like she’s about to go on
America’s Next Top Model.”
I laughed, and I swear I could hear Charlene laughing with me.

“And from what I hear through the church grapevine, Lisa Mae’s about to make her presence felt in the next few days. From what her best friend, Loretta, has told me, she’s had her eye on the bishop for a few weeks now and feels the church is ready for a new first lady.” The thought of Lisa Mae being the next first lady brought a smile to my face because she was my personal favorite of all the candidates.

“Oh, and once again, I have to give you credit for thinking of everything. If I hadn’t taken the job as the bishop’s new secretary right before you passed, I wouldn’t have known any of this. Fast-ass Monique Johnson tricked the bishop into dinner at her house the other night, saying she was having some bogus meeting with the bookstore committee. I did some checking, and get this—I couldn’t find one person who was even on this supposed bookstore committee. No need to worry, though. He was only there for about two hours, and you know if he was there any longer, I would have walked my behind right up to her door and said, ‘Sorry I’m late for the meeting.’ If I have anything to say about scheduling them, you can bet that from now on, any meetings with her will be held at the church.

“I guess you’re wondering what’s going on with Savannah Dickens, but I don’t have much to say except that the bishop’s had dinner with Deacon Dickens this past Sunday. The bishop didn’t even mention her, other than to say she cooked the food. One thing’s for sure, I’m going to keep my eye on the deacon because he’s been hanging around the administration wing of the church a lot lately, and I’m sure he’s up to something. I just haven’t figured it out yet.” I knelt down and straightened up the vase and flowers.

“Well, Charlene, I gotta go to work before I’m late, but I love you, and I’ll keep you posted.” I started to walk away, then turned back toward the gravesite to take one more look. I still missed Charlene so much, but I knew she was in a good place now. If she couldn’t be at the bishop’s side, then I must play my part to be sure that a worthy woman filled her shoes. I knew what I had to do to help my friend rest in peace.

I arrived early at First Jamaica Ministries for my date with Thomas Kelly. Tanisha’s friend Niecy had truly done her thing. My hair was hooked up, and I knew I looked good, so I mingled around with the women who were leaving one of the many different Bible study classes. I couldn’t be more proud of the way I looked as I stood in the room with the other women. Over the years, my drug abuse had taken its toll on my appearance. There were countless times when I felt so ugly, and I was embarrassed to be around other women. But now I was clean and I was taking good care of myself, so I knew I looked as good as—or even better than—plenty of these women.

Most of the women from the Bible study class headed over to a table with all types of cookies, cakes, and a bowl of punch. I knew I was going out to eat with Thomas Kelly, but to curb my appetite, I walked over to the table and helped myself to a few cookies and a cup of punch. While I stood there, I listened to a loudmouthed, brown-skinned woman who looked like she could have played linebacker for the New York Giants. She was running her gum as if she were a candidate for a political office. Twenty women there were hanging on her every word.

“Now, y’all know I’m not one to run my mouth,” the woman said. She looked each woman in the eye, including me, challenging anyone to speak the truth about just how much she did run her mouth. “But this church needs a first lady to keep these men in line and these hot-to-trot floozies’ skirts below their knees.”

“Mmm-hmm. You tell ‘em, girl,” a woman from the crowd shouted.

“Now, we all know that Bishop Wilson’s a good man. I don’t think any of us has a doubt about that. But no man, not even a man of God like the bishop, can stay strong with all this temptation running around. Y’all know who I’m talkin’ about.”

“We sure do! You tell ‘em, Loretta,” another woman said.

“And we all know there’s only one woman who has experience dealing with this type of church matters, has dealt with the responsibility of being a first lady, and can keep the bishop happy, if you know what I mean. And that’s my good friend, Lisa Mae Jones.” Everyone applauded as the woman pointed at a tall, light-eyed, fair-skinned woman. Lisa Mae had a presence that mirrored the former first lady’s. She stepped forward, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit her smile lit up the room.

Now, she could run for political office,
I thought,
and she’d have my vote.
The way things were going, it did look like she was running for office. Her candidacy for first lady seemed to have been discussed prior to this meeting, and Loretta was simply giving a little nomination speech before the churchwomen’s candidate spoke. When Lisa Mae Jones started to speak, she looked humble but not at all surprised by Loretta’s suggestion that she should be the bishop’s new wife. I had to suppress my urge to sneer at this woman who had suddenly become my competition for T.K.'s affections.

“Thank you, ladies,” Lisa Mae said humbly. “As many of you know, my good friend, the former first lady, Charlene Wilson, wrote a letter asking me to take care of her husband, the bishop, and the church after her death.”

I had to rest my hand on the table to keep from falling over when I saw what she held up. It was an envelope exactly like the one I’d found taped to my door. What the hell was going on? Charlene had written me a letter asking me to take care of her husband, and now here was another woman who had supposedly got the same message from the grave. I didn’t yet know if I should be mad, but I was definitely confused.

“What you don’t know,” Lisa Mae continued, “is that Bishop Wilson and I have developed a very special friendship over the last year. One that I hope can blossom into a meaningful relationship.” She pulled out a tissue and wiped her eyes. My stomach did a little flip. I felt like I was gonna be sick watching this woman’s show. “You see, to be truly honest, I don’t want the responsibility of being a first lady again, but if that’s what it takes to spend the rest of my life with a man like Bishop T.K. Wilson, then I’ll be the best first lady this church has ever seen.”

I heard the last of her words and the applause they gave her as I walked out of the building. So, I was not the only one Charlene had given her blessing to, and this Lisa Mae seemed to have her shit together. She also had the support of the women of the church, which had to count for something. I’d never even considered that being with Thomas Kelly meant being the church’s first lady.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I’d never been so hurt and embarrassed in my entire life. Why was this woman playing with me from the grave? She knew I wasn’t qualified to be the first lady. Well, I wasn’t about to let her or anyone else make a fool of me. I began to walk home, thinking that Thomas Kelly and his high-and-mighty church were better off without me. Good luck to this Lisa Mae woman, and good riddance.

By the time I got to 109th and Guy Brewer Boulevard, the drug boys were out in full force, and I was so angry and humiliated that I actually contemplated getting high to pick up my mood. Thank God I didn’t have any cash on me and the drug boys didn’t take debit cards. I’d planned to ask Thomas Kelly to take me to an ATM machine so that I could pay for our dinner, although I’m sure he wouldn’t have let me. Nonetheless, I took my lack of cash as a sign and started to walk down Guy Brewer Boulevard toward Rochdale Village, where I knew there was an NA meeting. It would be good to be around people who were supportive and knew what I was going through.

During the meeting, I actually got up and testified, something I’d rarely done since I graduated from the Apple drug program three years ago. Afterward, around eleven o’clock, I got a ride with a lady who lived on 110th Street. All I had to do was walk a few blocks to get home. I was feeling pretty good after the meeting. Matter of fact, I’d completely put the earlier events at the church out of my mind, at least until I stepped out of the woman’s car and spotted Thomas Kelly’s Cadillac standing at a traffic light. That light-skinned woman from the church was sitting in the front seat. Any good feelings from the NA meeting left me immediately as I watched the light turn green, and Thomas Kelly drove away with this woman who was sitting where I should have been. Don’t ask me why, but that shit set me off. I was so mad, I could’ve spit fire. And the next person who approached me was gonna feel my wrath.

“Hey, Ma, whatchu need? Whatchu need?” Reggie shouted, running up on me like I was carrying a million dollars.

“Look, Reggie. I’m not in the best of moods, and I ain’t got no money, so leave me the fuck alone,” I snapped. “If I have to tell you one more time that I don’t use that shit no more, then I—” My whole body tensed up. I just wanted to hit someone.

“Relax, Ma,” Reggie said, putting his hands up and slightly backing away from me. “I was just running a special today is all. I got a two for one. I know you used to like a deal.”

I didn’t have to say a word. I’m sure Reggie could tell by the look in my eyes and my clenched fists that he had one second to get away from me. He took two steps back but still continued his sales routine. “I understand the no-money thing. And, seeing as how you used to be my best customer,” Reggie said with a villainous smile, “I’d be willing to extend you some credit.”

“I don’t do drugs no more.” I said it with as much strength as I could muster, to convince myself as much as him that drugs were not what I needed. I started to walk away, but he followed me step for step.

“You sure, Ma? I got this new shit they call Monster. My customers are saying it’s the best shit they ever had. Each hit’s like your first.” Reggie stepped in front of me. “You remember your first hit, don’t you, Ma?”

I did remember my first hit. It was the one thing in my life I wished I could forget, because it haunted me like the plague. That first hit was the one that turned my entire life upside down and landed me where I was now, a recovering addict who had lost the love of her life because of drugs, still struggling daily just to stay away from the poison. But as bad as things turned out because of that first smoke, a part of me recalled it fondly. It’s hard to even describe how that first time makes you feel. Most addicts will tell you they spend the rest of their lives trying to relive that feeling, and I was no different. I was clean now, but something inside of me would always remember that first hit with longing. In a moment of weakness, it would be so easy to pick up another pipe to try again for that “first high” feeling. And the disappointment I’d suffered tonight was making me feel weak.

I started to roll my neck and swing my arms, motions that had become almost reflexes whenever I thought about getting high. The more Reggie talked, the weaker I became. I could almost feel the smoke filling my mouth and lungs. The only thing that was missing was the rush. I knew I had to get out of there, ‘cause I was starting to jones.

“Excuse me, Reggie.” I stepped around him and started to walk faster, but he must have known he’d gotten into my head because he kept pace with me once again. “Reggie, why are you following me? I told you I ain’t got no money, and you know there ain’t no such thing as credit.”

“Yeah, I know, but you gotta try this shit. Look, Ma, you know you want this, and I want you to have it. So, I’ll tell you what. You ain’t even gotta use it now. I’ll give you two for free.” He stuck out his hand as we walked. “Here.”

I looked down at the drugs in his hand and slowed my steps. I could feel the sweat forming on my brow as my conscience kicked into overdrive. I wanted to scream and run from the danger I knew I was in, yet part of me wanted to grab the drugs and take them with me. It was so much work resisting the temptation of crack every day, especially with people like Reggie constantly trying to get me started again.

I stared at Reggie for a long moment, wishing he would just disappear, before I finally sighed and said, “Okay, Reggie, you want me to take them from you? I’ll take them, but I’m telling you now, I’m gonna take them upstairs and flush them down the toilet, so don’t get your hopes up. I ain’t gonna be a return customer this time.” I took his packages and stuffed them into my purse, meaning every word I’d said. I was going to get rid of the drugs as soon as I got inside. Maybe then, the next time he saw me and I was still sober, this pain-in-the-ass dealer would know I meant what I said, and he’d stop trying to tempt me every time I stepped outside my damn door.

“Just remember, Ma, next time you pay!” he yelled, walking in the opposite direction. “Next time, you pay!”

As I entered my building, I felt like the drugs were burning a hole in my purse, sending out waves of desire to my brain. My hands shook as I put the key into my mailbox in the lobby. I could feel my resolve weakening, and now I wasn’t so certain I’d be able to flush the crack down the toilet when I got upstairs. I cursed myself for being stupid enough to even put my hands on the drugs I now had in my possession. But my strength to resist returned to me when I pulled out my mail and saw a reminder of my biggest reason to stay clean and sober. There was an envelope from my baby Aubrey’s school, containing his report card.

He didn’t have straight A’s, but there were three A’s, and no C’s, D’s, or F’s, which meant he made the honor roll. While Aubrey had always been a good student, this was the first time I could say that I had played some part in his success. Before, he managed to get good grades even though his momma was a crackhead. Now he was getting even more A’s because his momma was a
recovered
crack addict, and I was able to help him with his schoolwork every night.

I was so proud of him—and of myself—that I felt like going to get him from his friend Jimmy’s house so we could take the bus over to Green Acres Mall. We could go to the twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart and buy him that PlayStation 3 he wanted. But as I headed up to my apartment, I decided against it, because if I bought it now, what would he have to look forward to on his birthday next week? But I was going to get rid of these drugs for him and make him some of the chocolate chip cookies he liked.