18
Misha thought the message would be fun. A little flirting with each other would help their marriage get back on track. Sometimes, that was all it took. Guess she was wrong. She didn’t want to cause any problems. She was only trying to help. How did she know it was going to turn out like this?
Misha wanted to apologize as Shante was trying to coax Deandrea out of the stall. “Dee, I apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought your husband would like it. I thought a little flirting would put the spark back in your marriage.”
Deandrea walked out of the stall. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Misha felt bad. She didn’t mean to upset her this much. Shante moved to hug Deandrea, but she dipped out of the way and walked toward the mirror.
“I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” Deandrea finally spoke. “Jarrod actually liked it.” She looked at Misha. “Next time, before you take someone’s phone and send a message, ask first,” Deandrea said roughly. She grabbed a paper towel, wet it and wiped her eyes.
“Dee, really, we didn’t mean anything by it. We were just playing.” Shante added.
Misha didn’t understand. If he liked it, why was Deandrea crying? There was something deeper going on here. How could she get so upset about something that pleased her husband?
Deandrea straightened her blouse. She had her game face on now. She walked past Shante and Misha as if she didn’t see them.
“Don’t worry about it. She’ll be fine. I’ll talk to her later,” Shante said as she hooked her arm in Misha’s. They followed Deandrea out the door.
“I didn’t mean to hurt anybody,” Misha said.
“I know.”
For the next hour Deandrea had enough energy to go on a wild shopping spree. She didn’t ask for Shante’s or Misha’s opinion. She purchased clothing without trying them on. Misha and Shante followed her into a children’s store, and Deandrea tried her best to buy everything she saw.
They bounced from store to store following Deandrea’s antics. She seemed to find something in every store to purchase. Shante and Misha did not try to stop her. Eventually she would run out of steam. However, it was Shante who needed to rest, and the trio headed for the food court.
Misha sat at the table guarding all the purchases while Deandrea and Shante looked for something to eat. “God, what do you want me to do for these ladies? I’ve got to make sure I don’t do something else stupid. I repent for the text. I thought it was a good idea. Dee’s husband liked it. Why didn’t she? I don’t understand,” Misha quietly prayed.
Deandrea and Shante returned to the table and sat down. Shante had a large sticky bun on a plate in front of her. Deandrea picked up one of her cheese fries and ate it. The atmosphere at the table was tense. Shante was trying hard to break the tension with light conversation. Deandrea was eating a burger and dancing to a tune only she could hear, trying to act as if nothing was happening with her. Misha felt uncomfortable. She looked up to these two women. Now, she was wondering why.
When she first went into the ministry, Misha would have killed to be where she was now. Being there was much different from what she imagined. She had often thought if she ever got the chance to sit down and talk with them, it would be so spiritually deep an angel would have to translate for her. She had imagined they would inspire her in a way that would change her focus and renew her spirit. She dreamt they would hit it off and be instant friends. She had imagined they would mentor her unlike anything she ever received in the ministry. Now that she was with them, she wished she wasn’t. She enjoyed the fantasy more.
“Excuse me, miss,” a lady tapped Misha on the shoulder. “I hate to interrupt you. I don’t want to be a bother. May I ask you a question?” the woman’s voice trembled.
“What kind of question?” Misha asked.
“Are you famous? You look like a lady I saw on the cover of a magazine I was looking at in the grocery store.”
“That was her,” Deandrea chimed in. “Her husband is Bernard Taylor.”
“I’m sorry. I never heard of him. Does he play football or something?”
Misha loved it when people did not recognize her husband. It let her know there were still places they could go for privacy. She had to take note as to where this white lady with a strong midwestern accent lived. She had to keep it in mind for a retreat for her and Matthew.
“My husband is a pastor, and he sings Gospel music,” Misha said.
“I love Gospel music. I like the Katinas, Point of Grace—”
“He sings black Gospel music,” Deandrea arrogantly said.
Misha was appalled. She rolled her eyes. Deandrea needed to get over herself. In her house, they don’t insult people, especially strangers.
“He’s won a couple of Grammy’s, and some Stellar awards and Dove awards. You never heard of him? He’s anointed. He’s cute too,” Deandrea continued.
The more Deandrea spoke, the angrier Misha became. Her lips tightened in a forced smile. The lady asked an honest question. Instead, Deandrea was rattling off Matthew’s résumé. Deandrea was only repeating what she read in magazines or heard on television. She didn’t know Misha’s husband. She had to rescue this innocent victim from Deandrea’s insecurities.
“Miss, you recognize me from the cover? That was a few months ago. You have a good memory. I’m Misha Taylor. These are my friends, Shante Patrick and Deandrea Fuller,” Misha pointed to Deandrea and Shante. “You like the Katinas? I love their music too. I saw them in concert a couple of years ago. Have you seen them?”
“Once. They came to my church. Well, I don’t want to bother you any longer. You ladies have a good day,” the woman said. She walked away, then returned to their table. “Excuse me. I hate to bother you again. Did you say your name is Shante Patrick?”
“That’s me,” Shante replied.
“The preacher?”
“Yes.”
The lady jumped in the air and screamed. She grabbed Shante and hugged her tightly. Shante laughed. The lady waved over other ladies sitting at another table. The ladies joined her.
“We are here for the conference. Can we get a picture?” The lady handed Deandrea a camera. She snapped a picture of Shante and the group. “Thank you. I look forward to hearing you speak tomorrow. It has been a blessing meeting you . . . all of you. Enjoy the conference.”
The group of women disappeared into the food court.
“How can you stand that?” Misha asked Shante. “People recognizing you wherever you go. Don’t you get tired of it?”
“Never. These are the people God sent me to minister to. Sometimes ministry is not about how you preach from the pulpit. Sometimes, it’s about how you treat people when they connect with you. In the pulpit or out, it’s all ministry.”
Now this was what Misha expected to get when she came in contact with them, not the whining or complaining. Maybe they could have a good conversation. “Did you see how that lady responded to me, and then to you? She recognized me from the magazine, but she screamed for you. That’s how people act when I’m with Matthew. Sometimes they push me aside to be with him. It’s like I don’t exist. How does your husband handle it? Is he treated the same way?”
“Max? Well, he never said anything negative about it. He likes it when people recognize me. He says it sells books. He told me once he enjoyed having the virtuous wife. I think he likes the fact I have a career and ministry separate from his,” Shante said in between licking her fingers of the cinnamon cream that dripped from the pastry she was eating.
“Misha, you need to embrace being Bernard Taylor’s wife. You seem embarrassed by it.” Once again, Deandrea put her unsolicited two cents in.
“You don’t know anything about me. I’ve read the tabloids and the blogs on the Internet. They are always talking about him marrying ‘that black girl’—like he’s not black. I know he’s light skinned, but they feel he’s using me to prove his blackness.”
“Well, is he?” Deandrea asked.
I can’t believe that heifer asked me that. Excuse me, Lord.
Deandrea waited for an answer while Shante pretended to be unattached to the conversation.
“If you are suggesting that my husband only married me because I’m black, that’s not true. I knew I was going to marry him long before we met. The Holy Spirit told me when I was a child, and He is faithful because I believed.”
“Either way, that child looks just like him.” Deandrea shoved another fry into her mouth. “What color are his eyes? On one picture they’re brown. On another, they’re blue. What’s his natural color?” she asked.
Misha gripped her thigh in an attempt to control her tongue and anger. Deandrea was so insensitive, and she was pushing Misha’s buttons.
“You don’t have to tell me. Your baby has blue eyes. So his eyes must be blue too.”
“Will you cut it out?” Misha yelled. “Courtney is not his baby, okay? Is that what you wanted to know? She’s not his biological child.”
Misha scooped up her two bags and stormed out of the food court. She had to find a phone book to call a taxi to take her back to the hotel. She looked at her watch. If she hurried, she could make it back in time for evening service.
These two women were not there to get anything out of the conference. They only wanted to hang out. Misha came to Philadelphia to worship and learn something that was going to make her a better first lady. She was beginning to think her assignment was to get revived instead of ministry.
Misha was sick of dealing with these two selfish women. Shante was here to teach. Yet, she had a lot of things to learn herself.
“Misha, wait!” Shante cried out.
Misha picked up her pace. She didn’t want to be around them anymore. The respect she had for them was now gone. There was nothing either one of them could say to her to make her stay with them.
Misha felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder. “Please stop. She didn’t mean anything by it. We didn’t know. She didn’t know,” Shante said breathlessly.
“Misha, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to get in your business,” Deandrea said to Misha. She set her bags down and hugged Misha’s stiff body. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I just want to leave this place,” Misha said.
“It’s about time we all went back to the hotel,” Shante said.
The trio found the car in the parking lot and headed back to the hotel. The ride back was a quiet one. Misha stared out the window. She had to make it to service tonight. Her soul needed reviving. Her spirit was weak dealing with them. They had drained her energy.
How could she allow them to agitate her so much that she revealed a secret only close relatives knew? Now, it was going to be in all the tabloids. The pain she felt now in her belly was for her husband and his ministry. If this became a problem, it was all her fault. She didn’t know how to rectify it.
Misha rushed to her room without speaking to Shante or Deandrea. She tossed her bags on the bed and called Matthew. She had to let him know her mistake before he heard about it.
“Hey, Babe,” Matthew said. Before he could say anything else, Misha spilled everything that happened.
“Honey, don’t worry about it. Besides, what would they gain by telling people?” he asked her.
Misha’s leg shook nervously. She didn’t need any more stress right now. She had enough at home.
“Call me back on the videophone. Courtney wants to see you.”
Misha hung up the phone. She reached into her purse and pulled out her tablet, then called Matthew. She laughed at the sight of Courtney answering the phone wearing a baseball cap turned backward and dark sunglasses. Her hands reached for the cap until she spotted Misha. The baby’s fat arms reached for the tablet. She babbled.
“See, I told you we are okay. We are just chilling, watching the Binky Frogs and sipping milk,” Matthew said as he adjusted the tablet to show him and Courtney. He laughed loudly.
Matthew always had a way of cheering Misha up. She smiled at the sight of her happy family. She missed them dearly. Forget the conference. She wanted to go home to take care of her husband and child. She wasn’t needed here with these selfish women. Shante and Deandrea were ungrateful for what they had, and they needed to lie before God and repent.
A knock on her door caused Misha to end her conversation. She looked through the peephole and spotted Deandrea and Shante standing at her door. If she remained silent, maybe they would go away. She walked into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Deandrea and Shante continued knocking. Finally, Misha ran to the door and yanked it open.
“We come in peace,” Deandrea said, her lips spread in a wide smile. “May we come in?”
“I thought the two of you would be at the evening session.”
“No. It looks like you are not going either. May we come in?” Deandrea replied.
Misha stepped to the side, and they walked into the room. She closed the door and stood with her arms folded, waiting for them to tell her why they were here.
“You have a nice room. You didn’t tell us you had a suite,” Deandrea said acting as if nothing happened. “Misha, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get up in your business. I didn’t know.”
Misha did not move away from the door. She was well aware that Deandrea could not have known about Courtney. None of it was in the tabloids and blogosphere. Much of the stuff printed about them was untrue. But, people like Deandrea continued to question his identity and his sincerity in his ministry and marriage.
Misha tried to ignore it, but it was hard. She and Matthew never talked about it. He was still sensitive about the abuse he experienced as a child. She only talked about it when he brought it up. He didn’t realize that he had habits that were developed because of his abuse, and he was not aware of the things he was doing. He thought he had defeated his past. However, it continued to show up. It made him overly sensitive to other people’s opinions. Misha had to be his protector just as he had been hers. Now that she had told their secret, she felt ashamed, as if she had abused him all over again. How was she going to fix this?