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.
6
M ARLENE
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
6
M ARLENE
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
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