19
Shante had never seen Deandrea act like this before. She was rude and insulting. She was taking out her anger at Jarrod on everyone else. She had pushed poor Misha to the limit. Misha wouldn’t move from the door, as if she was waiting for the opportunity to kick them out.
“Misha, please forgive us. We didn’t know. Dee was only trying to make conversation.”
Misha frowned and moved to the large window. She had nothing to say to them. She was hurt. Not only from Deandrea’s comments, but from everything that was going on in her life.
Shante stood in the center of the room looking at Misha gazing out the window, as if they were not there, and Deandrea leaned back in a chair. It was time to bring healing in this room.
“Ladies, I feel we need to pray,” Shante said.
“That’s a good idea,” Deandrea said as she bounced from the chair and walked to Shante. They joined hands. Misha did not move from the window. “Misha, come and pray with us.”
Misha huffed. She didn’t want to do anything else with them. Prayer was different. It wouldn’t hurt anything. She sluggishly approached the two who held out their hands to her.
As Deandrea prayed for forgiveness, Shante couldn’t help but feel sorry for Misha. They were having fun until Deandrea messed things up. She should not have invited her. She wanted to talk to Deandrea about her problems but she had more issues. Shante could never leave her husband and children, especially her children, no matter how mad she was at Max. Deandrea’s nonstop opinionated talking had gotten on Shante’s nerves too. Frankly, she was tired of it.
Deandrea’s cell phone rang as she concluded her prayer. She glanced at it, saw that it was Jarrod, and sent it to voice mail.
“You should talk to your husband and stop treating him like that,” Misha said, looking at Deandrea.
Deandrea’s eyes widened, and she took a step toward Misha.
“Misha, we should stay out of it,” Shante said as she leaped between the two of them.
“You should stay out of my business,” Deandrea fired back at Misha. Her body stiffened.
“You’re in my room. Therefore, it is my business,” Misha said just as quickly as Deandrea shot at her. “Your husband is a man of God. You should honor the anointing on his life.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Deandrea inched closer to Misha. “You need to take care of your own house. You’re the one who’s embarrassed of your husband.”
“I’m not embarrassed of my husband. You don’t know what it is like to be me—Mrs. Bernard Taylor. You’re not with me when people push me to the side to be with him. You’re not the one people all over the world are talking about, and most of it is a lie. You’re not the one where women threaten to take your husband every single day of your marriage.”
“Now, I can say I have that problem,” Shante interjected. “Women approach Max all the time. Bold, daring women, and ones who don’t care if he’s married or a minister of the Gospel.”
“You can say that again.” Deandrea waved her hand in the air. “As long as you are married, you’re going to have women approach your husband. That’s why you have to pray for him every day. Some women come in the church only to make a pass at my husband. They quickly find out we don’t play that in our church.”
They finally had a connecting factor, something they all had to deal with. Deandrea walked away from the two women and flopped on the sofa. Shante walked to the small dining table and sat in one of the chairs. Misha joined Shante at the table.
“When Jarrod and I first got married, I was so dumb. I thought no woman would be attracted to him because I wasn’t, at first. Then I saw a woman make a direct pass at him, and I almost lost it. I asked God to show me the women before they approach him.”
“Well, did He?” Misha asked with much interest.
“Yes. Usually I can spot them when they walk in. When he travels, I have to trust God to give him a spirit of discernment so he can see the traps of the enemy. Temptation is everywhere. You have to pray as a wife of a minister.”
Misha listened to Deandrea. She had to learn to deal with the burden of being married to Bernard Taylor. He was famous, and women were attracted to the money and fame. It didn’t help that he was good-looking.
“I almost got in a fight with a woman at the church. She was all up in Matthew’s face. I wanted to let her know she wasn’t dealing with a little girl fresh off the farm,” Misha laughed. “I guess it was the wrong thing to do. But, it felt good at the time.”
“Misha, you can’t go around fighting women over your husband. You have to pray,” Shante said, hoping to give her some clear direction and godly advice.
“I know. I’m learning. But, it did feel good,” she said, continuing to laugh.
“Was she scared?” Deandrea asked.
“I think I was more frightened than she was. I’m glad Matthew has security. You can talk a whole lot of junk with two big bodybuilders standing with you.”
The three of them screamed with laughter. Misha was tiny and fragile looking. It was hard imagining her trying to fight anyone.
Shante sat at the table with her hands folded in front of her, relieved the tension had left the room. “Hey, is anybody hungry?”
“Tay, if you don’t stop eating like that, you’re going to be as big as a house before that baby is born,” Deandrea remarked.
“I don’t care. I’m hungry. I have to order room service. Y’all want anything?” she asked them.
“Maybe some fruit,” Misha answered.
“Nothing for me,” Deandrea said.
Shante reached for the phone, placing her room service order and charging it to her room, then sat the phone on its cradle.
“Shante, you’re famous. Have you ever been approached by an admirer . . . of the opposite sex?” Misha asked.
Shante returned to her seat. “All the time. Men in the church are just as bad as the women. But, they approach you differently.” Shante stood, lifted her shoulders and leaned into Misha. “Uh, Pastor Patrick, are you happy at home?” she said in a deep voice, mimicking the men that approached her. She sniffed. “You smell mighty fine. Is that husband of yours treating you right? Apparently not; he’s not here. If you were my woman, I’ll never let you out of my sight.”
Deandrea and Misha laughed at Shante’s crude imitation.
“Then there are the ones that use or misuse scripture to make a pass at you. Always talking about greeting you with a holy kiss. There is nothing holy about the kiss they want to give you.”
“How does your husband deal with it?” Misha asked.
“When I tell him, it doesn’t bother him. He usually takes it as a compliment that his wife is so fine, men still approach me. I haven’t seen him get mad or jealous yet. Hopefully, he won’t. He knows I love him and am committed only to him.”
Deandrea and Misha nodded their heads in agreement. A knock at the door startled them. Shante beat Misha to the door. It was room service with their order. Shante reached for her food as soon as it was placed on the table. She lifted the cover off the plate and picked up her cheesesteak. Misha tipped the waiter and closed the door.
“Shante, you better stop eating like that,” Deandrea said as Shante munched on her sandwich.
“I’m eating for two now. That’s my excuse, and I’m going to stick with it and suck the life out of it for as long as I can.”
That was her plan. Although Shante was a minister, people expect her to be perfect. Sometimes, she didn’t feel as if people were seeing her as a preacher but a movie star. They wanted her to have the same characteristics as the latest theatrical princess. Her agent told her to watch her weight and get Botox injections to smooth out the lines around her eyes. Then there were the scars on her face she wanted Shante to see if she could have removed. But her scars were her ministry. Shante ministered to women who had been in abusive relationships like she had and the scars were the outward signs of her deliverance. She would never have them removed.
Misha ate the fruit salad she had in front of her. Deandrea reached for a fry off Shante’s plate and put it in her mouth.
“I love my husband. I really do,” Deandrea said as she sat back on the sofa. “Sometimes it’s hard. I gave up everything for him.” Her eyes shifted downward.
Shante felt bad for her. Deandrea always acted as if everything was perfect with her. Now, she realized Deandrea could turn it on and off at will.
Misha joined Deandrea on the sofa. They were back in the friend zone.
“I love my husband too. I know it can be hard,” Misha added.
“You don’t understand. Sometimes I feel like a single parent. He’s never at home. We never spend time alone. The children barely know him.” Tears filled Deandrea’s eyes. She adjusted herself and continued. “I try to schedule time alone, but he always has something better to do—a meeting, a revival, a conference. It’s never ceasing. I’m concerned about his health. I don’t know how long he will be able to keep this up.”
“It sounds like you are lonely,” Shante said, trying to understand her situation.
“It’s more than that. It’s like he’s forgotten he has a family until he needs us. We are the ones that stand when he introduces his family before he preaches. It’s almost like he’s saying ‘These are my trophies, look at them.’ When it is over, he puts us back on the shelves until he needs us again.”
“It couldn’t be that bad,” Misha stated.
“You don’t know the half of it. He used to tell me how beautiful and intelligent I am. We used to make time for each other. We could talk for hours about anything or nothing at all.”
Misha walked back to the window. She folded her arms around her body and leaned against the wall. Her eyes seemed distant. It was the same look she had when she shook Pastor Edmunds’s hand.
Deandrea continued her rant of the trials of Deandrea Fuller. Shante knew it was hard for her. Could Max feel the same way? Shante tried to give him lots of attention when she returned home. She prepared meals for them and left cooking instructions for Max before she left to preach. She wrote Max and the boys special notes, letting them know how much she loved them. She called them regularly when she was away. As soon as she stepped in the house from one of her trips, Max was there, waiting for her.
“You know, one day I got really frustrated and talked with an attorney,” Deandrea confessed.
Shante snapped back to the conversation. “No, Dee, you didn’t.” She stopped eating and joined her on the sofa.
Deandrea continued, “I’m not going to do anything. That day, I only wanted to know my options. Jarrod and I have a lot of property, and I needed to find out where I stand if we ever came to that. I don’t want to divorce him. I only wanted to know.”
“Who has your ear?” Misha said out of the blue.
“What?” Deandrea questioned her.
“Who has your ear?” Misha walked boldly toward them. “Who have you been listening to? I’m not talking about the attorney. Somebody else has your ear. Who is it?” she asked fearlessly.
“You keep trying to push my buttons. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Deandrea rolled her eyes.
“That’s how you know I’m telling the truth. Now, I ask you again, who has your ear?”
Misha stood her ground and didn’t back down.
Deandrea twitched in her seat. She stood and paced the floor. “One day I was at the church. Jarrod was gone . . . again. One of his friends dropped by the church to see him. He invited me to lunch since Jarrod wasn’t in. At first, I turned him down. But he was insistent. So I went.”
“You’re having an affair?” Shante gasped.
“No, girl. We only went to lunch. I had fun though. I have to admit it. It was like when Jarrod and I started dating. I missed that. He drove me back to the church, and I never saw him again.”
“Is that it?” Misha asked. “Is that all you did?”
“Misha, if I didn’t respect the anointing on your life, I probably would have cussed you out by now. But I know it’s God.” Deandrea walked back to the sofa and sat down. “He calls the house for Jarrod. When he’s not there, we have a good conversation. I enjoy talking to him.”
“That’s dangerous territory. Remember, lust . . . then sin,” Shante said.
“It’s nothing like that. We only talk,” Deandrea said, her mouth curved to a wide smile.
“Do you know how dangerous ‘just talking’ is? Talk allows you to become intimate in other ways before you step into a physical relationship,” Misha added.
“Yes, Dee. That’s how adultery starts, with conversation. You should cut it off, especially since it’s Jarrod’s friend.”
“I did. I realized it was the wrong thing to do. Now, if Jarrod is not there and he calls, I don’t even pick up the phone. I want to. I know if I did, I will hear compliments and will feel special when I get off the phone. Jarrod does not make me feel special. He doesn’t compliment me anymore. He’s gone all the time. We haven’t had sex in months. He takes care of other people’s families more than his own.”
If Deandrea was expecting Shante and Misha to say it’s okay for her to do a little creeping, she was dead wrong. Neither could condone such actions. This man was no friend of Jarrod’s if he was so willing to come in his house and entertain his wife when he was gone.
Shante had so many questions she wanted to ask but was afraid to. Deandrea’s situation was making her look at her relationship with Max in a different way. She never thought about Max cheating on her. Max had integrity. Listening to her friend, she began to wonder if this was God showing her how Max really felt.
She tried to focus on Deandrea’s continuous whining. Frankly, Shante wished she would shut up. She could relate to Jarrod’s ministry. They both were on the road a lot. She knew how draining it could be. Deandrea didn’t understand.
Misha moved back to the sofa and wrapped her arm around Deandrea. Shante wasn’t buying the pity party Deandrea was having. She was playing hard on Misha’s sympathy.
“I wish he would realize that I need him too. He doesn’t care,” Deandrea cried.
“You don’t care,” Shante said.
“Yes, I do. If I didn’t care, I probably would have divorced him a long time ago. I gave up everything to be with him. I had my own business, property, money and ministry when I met him. Now, it’s all about him.”
“No. It’s all about you,” Shante fired back.
“What’s your problem?”
“I’m sitting here listening to you whine and complain about your life. Have you ever thought about how Jarrod feels when he comes off the road? Do you ever think about how tired he may be? What do you do to welcome him home?”
Misha sat quietly on the sofa not intervening in their conversation.
“Everybody can’t be perfect like you and Max.”
“Perfect? Perfect? How can you say something like that? You don’t know what goes on in my house. You think we’re perfect?”
“Look at the two of you. You have the perfect marriage, family and church. You don’t have all the drama Jarrod and I have. He respects you. You guys knew each other for years before you got married. You still get along. He hasn’t taken you . . . from you. So to me you are perfect.”
Shante shook her head and walked away. Deandrea didn’t know half of the story. She was on the outside looking into what she felt was the perfect world. She didn’t realize even in their house, everything seemed out of control. But, Shante was not going to tell her that.
“Stop acting like a jealous little girl,” Shante said to Deandrea.
“I’m not jealous of you. I want to be me, not Copastor—me.”
“Shut up! Please shut the heck up,” Shante shouted so loud the neighboring guests would probably complain.
Misha’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Yeah, I said it, and I’m not taking it back. All you have done since you’ve been here is complain about Jarrod. You don’t know what it feels like coming home after a tiring trip ministering the Gospel. It is draining being on the road with everyone pulling at you and making demands on your time and energy. When you get home, all you want to do is sleep for three days. But you can’t because being home has its own issues. Jarrod is probably drained and tired, and he has to come home to your whining and complaining. If I had to listen to it, I’d talk over you too.”
“What are y’all doing? Both of you are ganging up on me,” Deandrea cried.
“You don’t understand. Max and I are far from perfect. We have our problems like everyone else. Foot, we even had sex before we got married.”
A loud gasp filled the room.
Shante rewound the words in her head. Oh no, I didn’t say what I just said . . . did I?.
“Well, well, well, the famous Shante Patrick and her husband were busy with the hanky-panky before they were married,” Deandrea said with a satisfied smile on her face. At last, misery had company.