Chapter 1
Arykah Miles-Howell and her best friend, Monique Lynnette Morrison-Cortland, along with Monique’s cousin, Amaryllis Price, and Amaryllis’s best friend, Bridgette Nelson, sang and danced to the music of R&B group Kool & The Gang.
“Oh yes, it’s ladies night and the feeling’s right. Oh yes, it’s ladies night; oh, what a night,” the ladies sang.
For the past four months the full-figured beauties had rotated each other’s livingrooms, on every third Saturday evening, for their monthly “fat girl” party. This particular evening the living room in a five-bedroom, six-and-a-half bath estate, in Covington, a subdivision in Oakbrook Terrace, was filled with joy and laughter.
Hostess Arykah changed CDs and led her girlfriends in the electric slide as each of them held flutes filled with virgin Bahama Mamas.
“Come on, sistas. Step it to the left, now rock it to the right, take it on back, now jump two times. Uh-huh, uh-huh, now jump again. Now swing it all around and take it to the ground,” Arykah instructed along with the CD.
Collectively, the ladies would tip a scale at nearly nine hundred pounds. A lavish buffet table consisting of honey barbeque buffalo wings, taco salad, a tray of rolled salami and ham slices, and fresh baked Hawaiian bread sat front and center in the home’s two-story foyer.
“Ain’t no party like a fat girl party,” Bridgette, a size fourteen and the smallest of the group, said as her bulging eyes roamed over the food. Two dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts was the first of the feast to catch the ladies’ eyes when they had entered Arykah’s front door earlier that evening.
Sweating to the music, Monique was the first to sit down on the plush white Berber carpet to catch her breath. She let her head fall backward on the cushion of the custom-made, ivory-colored Nicolette suede chair.
“Come on, cousin. I know you ain’t tired yet. This is only the second song,”Amaryllis teased.
Monique absorbed the sweat beads on the tip of her nose into a Kleenex tissue. She had become a newlywed just four months ago and her then size twenty figure had grown bigger, to a size twenty-two W. “I ain’t as thin as I used to be. I can’t do all of that bending and twisting and jumping. And I told Arykah that I was on a diet. If she was a true friend, she wouldn’t have served all that fat food.”
Arykah took a sip of her exotic drink while keeping up with the dance movements.
“It’s a fat girl party, Monique. You know how we do it. Did you expect me to serve a lettuce, tomato, and cucumber salad? What the heck were you thinking?”
Monique inserted the tissue in her blouse to soak up the wetness in her cleavage.
“Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, a salad with fat-free dressing would have been a nice change.”
Arykah stopped dancing and placed her hand on her right hip. She then shifted all of her weight onto her right leg. “What, are we rabbits now? I think there’s a bag of carrots in the fridge. You want me to get you some? Keep in mind, Monique, you’ve inhaled four doughnuts and just about ate all of the salami. And don’t even go there about bending, twisting, and jumping, because you ain’t got a problem with bending, twisting, and jumping for that superfine husband of yours.”
Monique chuckled. “That’s because Adonis understands that ten good minutes is all I’m good for. And when my ten minutes are up, he does all the work with my two hundred forty-seven pounds.”
Bridgette, Amaryllis, and Arykah burst into laughter.
“Does he work it, girl?” Bridgette asked.
“Adonis works it so good, I think he had Energizer batteries implanted,” Monique added.
Amaryllis snapped her fingers in the shape of the capitol letter Z. Over the past year, she had allowed herself to balloon from a petite figure eight to a size sixteen. Amaryllis blamed her emotional eating binge on two bad relationships. “All right, cousin, I ain’t mad.”
“I know that’s right,” Bridgette said.
Arykah was out of breath. She collapsed on the floor next to Monique, panting for air. “Do you remember where we were only four months ago? I was doing my realty thing and wasn’t even thinking about a man,” she said to Monique.
Monique wiped sweat from around her neck. She thought back to the mistake she had almost made with her ex-boyfriend, Boris Cortland, who just happens to be her husband’s cousin. “And I was about to destroy my life. Marrying Boris would have been like committing suicide.”
Bridgette and Amaryllis joined Monique and Arykah on the floor. “I remember it like it was just yesterday,” Amaryllis said.
“Me too,” Bridgette added.
Arykah shook her head from side to side in disbelief. “Monique, when you called out Adonis’s name at the altar, I almost fainted. Even though he and I had planned and hoped that things would turn out the way they had, I was stunned that it actually did. I was so happy when you called from Jamaica, and told me that Adonis had proposed to you in midair. You said you needed a maid of honor, and I begged Lance to come to Jamaica with me.”
“Who would’ve thought that Lance would propose to you only minutes before Monique walked down that sandy aisle?” Bridgette asked Arykah.
“And who would’ve thought the two of you would have a double wedding?”Amaryllis added.
Arykah looked at them both with a gleam in her eyes. “God thought it.”
Two hours after the sun had risen over Lake Michigan, Pastor Lance Howell lay in the middle of his California king-sized bed. He was waiting for his wife to emerge from their massive walk-in closet. Sunday mornings were fashion show time in the Howell household. Arykah appeared in the closet doorway. She was dressed in a navy Dolce & Gabbana silk sarong dress that tied on the left side of her waist and hugged every curve of her plus-size figure.
“Okay, Bishop, tell me what you think of this one,” Arykah said.
Lance exhaled loudly and extended his arms behind his head. “Cheeks, why do you make me go through this torture every Sunday morning? I think it’s lovely on you, just like the other nine outfits you tried on prior to that one.”
“What about the length of this dress? My knees are showing.”
“So, what?”
“You don’t think it’s inappropriate for the first lady to show her knees in church?”
Lance got up from the bed and walked over to Arykah. He wrapped his arms around her wide waist and snuggled her neck. “Why don’t you just go to church naked so I can watch your butt cheeks jiggle when you walk? You know I like that.”
Arykah chuckled. “You need to get saved. If your congregation could hear half of the things that roll off of your tongue, they would vote you out of the pulpit.”
Lance playfully tapped his wife’s behind on his way to the shower. Arykah’s backside was his favorite area on her body. And he’d nicknamed her accordingly.
“Cheeks, they can do whatever they want. It won’t change the fact that I am in love with my wife.”
Arykah took off the dress and laid it on the bed, among the other outfits she had modeled for Lance that morning. She slipped into her bathrobe, then followed him into the master bath. She sat at her vanity, next to their his-and-her marble sinks, where she applied moisturizer to her face.
“So, you and I have a deal, right?” Lance asked from the shower.
Arykah rolled her eyes into the air. She knew what he was referring to, but asked the question anyway. “What deal are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you allowing Mother Pansie Bowak to sit in on your counseling session with Sister Darlita Evans after morning service.”
“Lance, Darlita asked if I would meet with her to discuss how she should handle her husband’s third adulterous affair. It’s a private issue, and I think it would be wrong to add a third party to the session. Besides, Mother Pansie doesn’t like me.”
Arykah faced opposition the moment Lance announced to his congregation that he had married a woman who wasn’t a member of the Freedom Temple Church Of God. Lance knew the rules of the church; that it was forbidden for the pastor to marry outside of the immediate church family. Though he was raised to believe that rule, Lance chose to follow his heart.
When Lance asked Arykah to stand and he introduced her as Lady Elect Arykah Miles-Howell, few people clapped or offered a smile of congratulations. Mother Pansie, along with the entire Mothers Board, stormed into his office immediately after the benediction to express their disapproval. The mothers pleaded with their pastor to see that it wasn’t fair to the hundreds of single women sitting under his nose, Sunday after Sunday. Surely, he could have chosen a more traditional lady, unlike Arykah Miles, who was much too bold, very outspoken, short tempered, and not likely to be controlled.
“Pastor, think about your reputation. She’s not first-lady material.”
Lance embraced each mother. He thanked them for caring about his well-being, then ushered them, one by one, from his office. Truth be told, Lance was in love with the too bold, very outspoken, short tempered, and not likely to be controlled, Arykah Miles.
“What makes you think Mother Pansie doesn’t like you, Cheeks?” he asked from the shower.
“She told me so.”
“Maybe you misunderstood her. What were her exact words?”
“She said, ‘I don’t like you.’ I wanted to tell her to kiss my behind, but I know I must respect my elders, no matter how old and wrinkled they may be. Plus, I promised God that I would stop cursing.”
Lance didn’t respond right away. He rinsed the soapsuds from his body, then lathered the sponge again. He knew Arykah wasn’t exaggerating; Mother Pansie had openly expressed her dislike for his wife on many occasions.
“Bishop, her skirts are too short and her lipstick is too red. Bishop, you shouldn’t allow her to wear high heels that tie up around her ankles with diamonds on them. It draws too much attention to her legs. Bishop, first ladies should not be seen with blond streaks in their hair. Bishop, why do you allow her to wear her arms out in the sanctuary? Bishop, why did you allow that woman to keep her maiden name? She’s openly disrespecting you when she doesn’t carry your name and your name alone.”
“As church mother, Pansie Bowak has been counseling the women for years. But I would like for you, as my wife, to take over that responsibility. Just think of it as a training session. I only ask that you allow Mother Pansie to sit in on a couple of marital counseling sessions so that you can get a feel on how troubled marriages should be handled.”
Arykah applied Johnson & Johnson’s baby oil gel to her elbows and the heels of her feet. “Humph, I already know how troubled marriages should be handled. I believe that if a husband or wife cheats, it’s up to the injured spouse to decide if they want to stay in the marriage. There is absolutely no excuse for adultery. But if the marriage is strong enough to survive it, then to God be the glory. But this Negro has stepped out on Darlita three times. And I’m well aware that the morally correct advice that I should give her is to turn the other cheek. But heck, Darlita only has two cheeks, Lance. And she’s already turned them both.”
Lance stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stood behind Arykah and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m worried about how you’ll handle this situation with Darlita. Remember that God hates divorce.”
Arykah was about to cut a hangnail when she stopped abruptly and looked in the mirror up at her husband’s reflection. A serious expression was displayed on her face.
“And He hates adultery too.”
What was Lance to do? He married a woman who was headstrong and sugarcoats nothing. He imagined Arykah advising Darlita to set the house on fire with her husband in it.
Lance stood Arykah up and turned her around to face him. “I know it’s a struggle adjusting to the role as the first lady, but when you’re giving advice to the women, you must always refer to the scriptures. You can’t give advice based on your personal feelings on a matter. I don’t want to see every woman who is dealing with infidelity leave your office with a made up mind to divorce her husband. That’s why I think it’s important to have Mother Pansie sit in on a couple of sessions.”
Arykah turned her head away from Lance. He cupped her behind and squeezed.
“Please, Cheeks. Do this for me.”
Arykah smiled even though she knew what she was up against. Mother Pansie was old school and from the South. She believed that women were inferior to men and a dutiful wife should always do what she’s told.
After the benediction two Sundays ago, a young lady confided in Arykah that she was troubled in her marriage. She confessed that she had been a punching bag for her husband’s stress relief method for the past eight months. She told Arykah what Mother Pansie had told her; that if her husband didn’t beat her, he didn’t love her.
Hot under the collar, Arykah marched the young lady straight to Lance’s office. “Bishop, we have a problem.”
Behind closed doors, Lance listened as the young lady revealed that her husband was facing a layoff. Their mortgage was being threatened, and her husband wouldn’t seek counseling to deal with his emotions. She had become subjected to rape and beatings on a daily basis.
Lance looked at his wife and discerned her spirit. The expression on Arykah’s face was horrifying. He had married a firecracker and knew without a shadow of a doubt that Arykah wanted to advise the young lady to drug her husband, wait until he fell asleep, then cut off his private member and arms. That was a sure way to cease the torture she was going through.
Lance could’ve counseled the young lady himself but wanted to afford Arykah the opportunity to step in as his wife, as his right hand, and as the first lady, to become a mentor to the women in the church. Arykah was from the streets. She hustled for years to get to where she was. But Lance still saw signs of Arykah’s roots taunting her. Though she wanted very much to be delivered from her abusive past relationships, Lance knew he had to continue to cover his wife in prayer and work through her struggles and insecurities with her.
But Arykah was now a pastor’s wife. Lance silently prayed for God to write on her tongue. He cleared his throat and loosened his necktie in preparation for damage control.
Once he gave Arykah the go-ahead, there would be no telling what would come flying out of her mouth.
“First Lady, what do you advise this sister to do?” he nervously asked.
Both Arykah and the young lady sat in chairs opposite of Lance. Arykah held the young lady’s hands in her own. “I want you to know that God loves you, and He didn’t create you to be anyone’s punching bag. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. It is unacceptable for a man, any man, to put his hands on you in anger. If Mother Pansie told you that your husband loved you while beating and raping you, she was mistaken.
“Your body is the Lord’s temple, and no one, not even your husband, should be allowed to abuse and destroy it. If he isn’t willing to seek counseling for his abusive behavior, then you should pack your things and leave. Because the next time he lays unholy hands on you, you may not survive it. And you should seek professional help from an abuse therapist for yourself. It isn’t normal behavior for you to have accepted your husband’s fury for so long. Ask the therapist to help you find out why you willingly tolerated his mood swings.
“And you have to learn who you are in God. My husband taught me that women must realize their worth and own it. Because if we don’t own it, we become vulnerable. And vulnerability is a pathway for the devil to destroy us, often through the very ones who claim they love us.”
Lance was well pleased with Arykah’s Christ-like attitude. Maybe he could go ahead and sit Mother Pansie down after all. He’d have to wait and see. He tightened his tie around his neck and leaned back in his chair while he watched God work through his wife.
Arykah dabbed the young lady’s tears with a Kleenex tissue that she had pulled from a box on Lance’s desk. “And you have to always protect your gates. Gates are openings that lead to your soul. Through our eye gates we may have seen our parents become victims of spousal abuse. And because we see it, our souls accept it as normal behavior.
“That’s a trick of the enemy. Our ear gates can become flooded with damaging words spoken to us through verbal abuse.
“I once dated a man who constantly told me that I was too fat, that I wasn’t pretty, that I was unattractive, and that I would never be loved by a man. And I believed that lie for years before Bishop Howell deposited a word of release into me. I tolerated that man’s behavior because it was what I had become used to.
“And we have to protect our vagina gates also. Mother Pansie may have told you that it was impossible for a husband to rape his wife, but that was absolutely not true. How do you feel when your husband forces himself on you for sex?”
The young lady sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I feel violated because he’s so rough with me. He never kisses me. Never asks how I feel or if I’m in the mood for sex. He just tells me what he wants, and then takes it from me and demands that I do things I don’t want to do. And sometimes he bites my breasts until they bleed. And after he’s done, he calls me dirty names.”
Arykah was flabbergasted, and Lance was appalled. But he sat silent and let Arykah do her thing that she was doing so well.
Arykah knew all too well what it felt like to be in the arms of a man that didn’t love her. Listening to the young lady’s story brought tears to Arykah’s own eyes. She squeezed the woman’s hands for comfort. “When I’m with my husband, I feel safe and secure. I feel protected and adored. He cares what my feelings are. There’s no dirty name-calling. There’s no hurt or pain. Only love, comfort, and security. When a man takes his wife’s body by force and inflicts sexual pain upon her, he’s raping her. And what you must do is start loving yourself and get out of this relationship because it’s not holy, which means it’s not of God.”
Arykah looked across the desk at Lance to see, through his facial expression, if she had crossed any lines. Lance softly smiled at his wife and nodded his head in agreement with everything she had said. He was well pleased.
“Bishop Howell and I will always be here for you, and we want you to feel free to come to us for anything. We are your spiritual parents, and we’ll do all that we can to encourage you and keep you strong in the Lord,” Arykah assured the young lady.
Lance stood and encouraged the young lady to follow Lady Arykah’s advice. He assigned certain scriptures pertaining to strength, courage, and peace for her to study.
He led the three of them in prayer for the young lady’s strength and peace of mind.
The young lady hugged and thanked them both, then walked out of Lance’s office and closed the door behind her.
Arykah looked at Lance. “You need to deal with Mother Pansie.”
That meeting was still fresh in Arykah’s mind as she and Lance stood in the middle of their master bath. “Lance, you know what happened the last time Mother Pansie counseled a young lady, but if you want her to sit in on the session with Darlita and me, then so be it.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, we’re a team.”
Lance kissed Arykah passionately and guided her back to the bed.
“Do we have time for this before church, Bishop? Don’t you have to preach in a couple of hours?” she asked, wanting Lance just as much as he wanted her.
Lance removed Arykah’s bathrobe. He let his towel slip from his waist. “This will help me preach real good.” He enjoyed his wife in between the Egyptian cotton sheets.
Later that morning, on the South side of Chicago, the sanctuary at Freedom Temple Church Of God was filled to capacity. Every seat, approximately five hundred of them, was spoken for. The congregation was in high praise when Lance and Arykah appeared in the doorway entrance to the center aisle.
The praise and worship leader signaled to Adonis Cortland, the head musician, to lower the organ’s pitch while she announced their pastor and first lady. “Please stand and receive Bishop Lance and Lady Elect Arykah Miles-Howell.”
With Arykah standing on his right, Lance passionately placed his open palm on the small of her back. Arykah wrapped her left arm around Lance’s waist, and they walked confidently as husband and wife down the center aisle. As he did Sunday after Sunday with a smile on his face, Lance escorted Arykah to the first pew and greeted Monique, Arykah’s personal assistant, with a peck on the cheek.
Four months ago when Lance walked into the sanctuary for the first time as a married man, he moved his ten deacons from the front left pew to the front right pew. He reserved the front left pew for Arykah, her guests, and Monique. Arykah was now in Lance’s full view.
Mother Pansie hadn’t taken that rearrangement too kindly. It had been tradition that the mothers sat behind the deacons on the left side of the church. But with the deacons sitting across the aisle, Mother Pansie had to constantly look at Arykah’s back side.
Lance sat in the pulpit among his assistant pastor, Minister Carlton Weeks, to his left. The associates sat on the right side of Lance. Minister Darryl Polk, Minister Tyrone Williams, and nineteen-year-old Minister Alfonzo (Fonzie) Kyles, whom Lance was leaning toward promoting to youth pastor, each shook Lance’s hand and gave him a hearty, “God bless you, Bishop.”
Lance looked at Arykah, then winked his eye and smiled. She returned the gesture.
Monique nudged Arykah with her elbow and whispered, “I saw that, First Lady. You and the bishop should know better than to partake in foreplay in the sanctuary.”
Arykah chuckled and leaned into Monique for privacy. “If you would’ve been in our bedroom two hours ago, you would’ve seen some real foreplay.”
Monique gasped, and it caused a few heads to turn their way. She met Arykah’s lean and kept her whisper, “On a Sunday morning?”
On the pew behind them, Mother Pansie tried desperately to hear Arykah and Monique’s conversation. She saw the wink Lance had given his wife. And because Arykah and Monique were leaning into each other whispering and gasping, Mother Pansie concluded that their conversation may not have been appropriate for the sanctuary. She tapped Mother Gussie Hughes, who sat on the right of her, on the knee and nodded her head in Arykah and Monique’s direction.
Mother Gussie, affectionately known as “Momma G,” hadn’t liked Arykah since the day she had first called the church asking to speak to Bishop Howell. As the church’s secretary, she had interrogated Arykah about why she was calling. Once Arykah revealed that she wasn’t a member but just a friend of Bishop Howell, Mother Gussie felt she was just another single lady all too eager for the pastor to place a ring on her finger.
Mother Gussie had had her own plans for Lance’s future. As soon as her granddaughter would have gotten paroled and delivered her third child, Mother Gussie had planned to bring her to the church and introduce her to the pastor. But only weeks after she had answered Arykah’s phone call, Bishop Howell introduced her as his wife.
Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie both turned their noses up at the form-fitting, crimson-red, knee-length crochet dress Arykah had decided to wear to church that morning. They couldn’t help but notice the three-carat diamond platinum studs shining in Arykah’s ears. Her lobes were completely hidden. Arykah’s hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that revealed the matching six-carat diamond teardrop necklace around her neck. As Arykah giggled and whispered in Monique’s ear, the mothers saw her bright red lip gloss. Her perfectly decorated eyelids were adorned with false eyelashes.
Arykah felt their stares. She purposely placed her left hand on Monique’s right shoulder to give the mothers something to really be hot about. When Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie caught a glimpse of the massive diamond ring, coupled with the diamond tennis bracelet on the first lady’s wedding finger and wrist, their breaths caught in their throats.
Arykah heard the gasping sounds and turned around with a smile. “Hello, Mothers. It is so good to see you both on this fine Sunday morning.”
The looks on the mothers’ faces confirmed to Arykah what she already knew. They didn’t like her and preferred she didn’t speak to them. But Arykah didn’t wait for a response. She knew it wasn’t forthcoming anyhow.
When her mission had been accomplished, Arykah turned back around and found Lance’s eyes staring into her own. He gave her a half smile and slowly shook his head from side to side, indicating to Arykah that she should be ashamed of herself for meddling with the mothers. She winked her eye at Lance. He smiled broadly, then turned his head to focus on the choir rendering in song.
The mothers hadn’t seen Arykah’s feet yet. She felt Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie would probably have a heart attack if they saw her red stilettos that were adorned with Swarovski crystals.
Many congregants approached the altar for prayer after Bishop Howell had preached a lengthy sermon on prosperity. The associate ministers came from the pulpit to assist their pastor with laying holy hands on the people. Lance called for Arykah to stand by him when he ministered to women. That was new for Arykah. She hadn’t understood what Lance wanted her to do at that time. When he ministered to a woman, he’d ask Arykah to give her an encouraging hug. Arykah felt honored to be in ministry with her husband. It was exhilarating.
The last woman Lance instructed Arykah to hug was Darlita, the woman she was to counsel after morning service. She stood before Arykah with a tear-stained face.
Because Arykah knew Darlita’s story, she immediately pulled her into her arms and began praying for Darlita’s strength and sanity. Arykah was the first to pull away when she had finished praying, but Darlita didn’t let go. She held on to Arykah as if she was in a safety zone. It was as if Darlita felt that if she let go, her world would collapse.
“Come on, sweetie, let’s go to my office,” Arykah said.
Monique saw Arykah guide Darlita from the sanctuary and knew that was her cue to grab Arykah’s things and follow them. Mother Pansie also saw Arykah leaving the sanctuary with Darlita. As soon as Monique stood to leave, so did she.
Upstairs in Arykah’s office, that was adjacent to Lance’s and just as large, Monique placed Arykah’s Bible and purse on top of the desk and stated that she was going back down to the sanctuary to pay her tithes and offerings.
Soon after Monique had left Arykah’s office, Mother Pansie burst into the room. She was out of breath from rushing up two flights of stairs. “First Lady, the bishop asked me to sit in on this meeting you’re having.”
Arykah wanted to curse, but remembered her surroundings and the promise she had made to God. “That’s fine, Mother Pansie, come on in.” Arykah placed two chairs on the opposite side of her desk for Darlita and Mother Pansie, but Mother Pansie had positioned herself comfortably in Arykah’s chair behind the cherry oak wood desk.
“That’s my seat, Mother.” Arykah made the statement as calmly as she possibly could, but Mother Pansie was already working on her last nerve. When Mother Pansie had taken her rightful seat, Arykah told Darlita that Pastor Howell had requested that Mother Pansie, the president of the Mothers Board, sit in on the counseling session.
Before Arykah started the meeting, she silently prayed that the Lord would help her control her emotions, but came to the conclusion that if anything popped off between her and Mother Pansie, it would be her husband’s fault.
She opened her right desk drawer to briefly glance at a poem she had written for herself shortly after some of the women at Freedom Temple revealed their true feelings about her position as the pastor’s wife. The poem was for her own self-encouragement whenever the enemy came upon her to eat of her flesh.
Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere
Me in my high heels and short skirts
Decorated in things that sparkle and shine
That’s right, ladies
Pastor Howell is all mines
He chose me because I am the cream of the crop
Looking at y’all, humph, do you even shop?
Take a long, wide glimpse of your today
Give it up, haters, because I’m here to stay
Don’t need to explain nothing to you
Only to the one I’m married to
I see you looking, can’t help yourselves
Compared to me, you’re like bookends on a shelf
Trying to be a nice woman to you in church
Having to bite my tongue is hurting me so much
My girl, Monique, got my back with her raw words
To make all you wannabes run like a charging herd
So, keep on whispering, talking, pointing, and looking
I promise you, I don’t care
Whether you accept me or not
I ain’t goin’ nowhere
Arykah shut the drawer and kicked off her stilettos under her desk. “Mother Pansie, Sister Darlita is here seeking counsel. Her husband has committed adultery a third time. He isn’t a member of this church, and according to Darlita, he doesn’t want to give marital counseling a chance.”
The first thing that came out of Mother Pansie’s mouth to Darlita was, “It’s your own fault that your husband is unfaithful.”
“How in the heck is it her fault?” The words flew out of Arykah’s mouth at the speed of lightning before she had a chance to catch them, not that she really wanted to.
Mother Pansie looked at Arykah with raised eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
Arykah swiveled her high-back leather chair in Mother Pansie’s direction. “What do you mean it’s Darlita’s fault that her husband is unfaithful? What is his responsibility to the marriage? Surely you’re not suggesting that Darlita forced her husband to put his shaboinka inside of another woman.”
Mother Pansie’s eyes bucked out of her head. She placed her hand over her heart as if she was going to pass out. She wished Bishop Howell could have been there to witness his wife’s outspokenness. “With all due respect, First Lady of only four months, if a woman keeps her house and takes care of her husband’s needs, he wouldn’t stray. And it would be wise for you to take heed to this advice I’m giving.”
It hadn’t bothered Arykah when Mother Pansie reminded her of how long she’d been the pastor’s wife. Whether she’d been married for four months or forty years, she would not sit there and allow Mother Pansie to make Darlita think that her husband’s infidelity was her fault.
The enemy got the best of Arykah. She forgot that she was there to counsel Darlita.
She set her gaze on Mother Pansie. “First of all, my marriage is on point. And you will not sit in my office, in my presence, and convince this sister to accept the blame for her cheating husband. The devil is a liar.”
Mother Pansie was vested; she had put in her time. She had been the church mother for over thirty-five years. More than half of the women in the church, she helped raise from infants. She refused to let some fat heifer from the street walk into the church and take over her position and teach the women to be disrespectful and rude. She scooted forward in the chair and pointed her finger at Arykah. “Now see, I don’ told the bishop that you weren’t first-lady material. You need to show some respect. You only been married a short while. What do you know about being a wife? Sometimes a woman’s gotta go through—”
Arykah stood up from her desk and raised her voice. She wouldn’t let Mother Pansie complete her sentence. “I don’t give a rat’s behind how long I’ve been married! And as far as respect goes, old woman, you’ve got to give it to get it.”
Darlita sat still. She didn’t know what to do.
Mother Pansie stood up. She breathed in hot coals and exhaled fire. She raised her pitch to match Arykah’s. “Just who in the heck do you think you’re talking to, li’l girl? You ain’t nothing but a two-bit tramp that latched on to the bishop. Ever since you been here, you ain’t done nothing but walk around here like you’re better than everybody else.
“I don’t care how bright your bracelets and earrings shine or what you’re driving. You’re still trailer trash, and you need to crawl back under the rock you came from.”
Arykah instantly felt herself being drawn into a zone. She was so mad that she literally felt her head spin three hundred sixty degrees around on her shoulders. The little girl from the movie The Exorcist had nothing on Arykah. Arykah was possessed and fully under the devil’s command. She stepped out of herself to watch herself perform a scene from The Matrix movie. Arykah had never performed a back bend in her entire life, but at that moment, she was as flexible as a rubber band. In a circular slow motion, she bent backward and was getting ready to leap forward over the desk.
“That’s enough, Mother!” Lance stood in the doorway to Arykah’s office with an expression on his face that she had never seen before. Someone was in trouble. Arykah didn’t know whether it was her, Mother Pansie, or the both of them.
“You see, Bishop? Do you see what happened now that you’ve brought this floozy into this church?” Mother Pansie asked Lance.
Arykah was fit to be tied. “Floozy? Who are you calling a floozy?”
Mother Pansie stood her ground. “I didn’t stutter. I called you a floozy with your fishnet stockings and fake hair. You ain’t got no business—”
Lance slammed the door behind him, which cut Mother Pansie’s words off. “I said that’s enough! I can hear the two of you way down the hall.”
Mother Pansie looked at Lance. “That’s because your wife doesn’t know her place.”
Arykah was getting ready to comment, but Lance held up his palm to silence her.
“Have you finished your session?” he asked Arykah.
“No, I haven’t.”
Lance spoke to his wife but focused on Mother Pansie’s eyes. “Take Sister Darlita to my office and finish your session.”
Arykah hastily grabbed her Bible from her desk and escorted Darlita across the hall to Lance’s office.
Lance mentally calmed himself before he spoke to Mother Pansie. “Never again are you to speak to my wife in that manner.”
“But, Bishop, she—”
“Never again, Mother. Is that understood? Arykah is my wife and whatever she does, she does it under my authority. I won’t stand for you, or anyone else, to disrespect her.
“And effective immediately, she will be overseeing the women in marital counseling—alone.”
Lance may as well have slapped Mother Pansie across her face. She snapped her head back in disgust. “What?”
“It’s time, Mother. You’ve held the ball long enough. I have a wife now, and I trust that she can do the job.”
Without saying another word, Mother Pansie opened the door and stormed out. Lance would soon realize that he had just declared war.