The Veil (2 page)

“Well, if you have to go.”

“Mimi, I love you. One day I'm going to make you Mrs. Roger Dale Williams. I promise. I can't afford it now. My ministry is just beginning to get started and—”

“Don't think about all that. What's important is the two of us are together now. God has a set time for everything.”

“I know, but there are days I really want to be with you. We've been together almost four years and I'm tired of coming home to an empty apartment.”

“Then let's just do it. Let's get married. My income is decent.” Misha sat up on the sofa. She was tired of coming home to an empty apartment too. With their combined salaries and the elimination of one apartment and its bills, they could make it just fine. She felt they had known each other long enough to get married, although she would get a nervous feeling every time she or he mentioned it. Even now her stomach trembled as she talked about it.

“Mimi, we have two car payments, two student loans, and don't forget my credit cards. We can't afford it right now. I promise you, soon. We're going to touch and agree our finances will get better and we'll be able to come together.”

“Then pray, Roger.”

Listening to Roger pray, Misha secretly prayed he would find another, better-paying job soon. Since he'd gotten this job, she was seeing less and less of him. It took so much of his time. She prayed it would be soon as she longed to be held and touched as a man would touch his wife on a daily basis.

It had been a long time since she had sex. But she wanted more than sex. She wanted to make love to Roger, as husband and wife. She wanted it to be special. Something that was fruitful in mind, body, and spirit—an act that would bear witness to their love and could be seen on their faces, spirit, and in their children. One day soon, she hoped.

Sunday had finally arrived. Six months of counseling with Bishop along with six months of classes with Elder Pringle on the doctrine of the church, the day had finally arrived. Misha was nervous as she stepped into the pulpit to deliver her initial sermon. She sat down in the center chair, which gave her a clear view of the entire church. Familiar faces filled the pews, waiting patiently for her to speak. The children in her junior missionaries group were sitting together on one side of the church near the front. Her family was sitting in the center pews. The deacons, dressed in gray and black suits, were lined up across the front row of all three sections. The youth choir sat behind her in the pulpit. She could hear the children moving restlessly as they prepared to sing.

She finally stopped stressing about how she looked when Roger picked her up to take her to the church. He had always loved her natural hair. Today her kinky twists were pulled back in a conservative wrap. Her chocolate-brown suit made her feel as though she could be a preacher. It was uncomfortable and not what she was used to wearing. But Roger made her feel like she was the only woman alive who could rock the straight-laced suit.

Glancing to her left, she saw Roger smile as he stepped into the pulpit and sat in the chair next to her, his right eye giving her a quick wink. Watching the other ministers file into the sanctuary and sit behind the deacons in the second row of the center seats, her legs shook nervously. Finally Bishop Moore walked proudly into the sanctuary and everyone stood as he entered. He stepped up to the podium and began addressing the congregation.

Everything looked different from Misha's view in the pulpit. The church had three aisles of seats. Her family was sitting in the center aisle. She leaned to the side to get a better view of something other than Bishop's rear end in front of her. Inhaling long, slow, deep breaths, she hoped no one noticed her heart beating so fast her chest moved up and down to the rhythm of the beat. Leafing through the notes she held in her hand in a poor attempt to keep her hands from shaking, she briefly looked over them.

There was no reason for her to be nervous. She spoke in front of people all the time as a teacher and at the church. But this time was different. She could feel the enormity of the occasion. It was a big step in her life. God had placed her in a position to bring people into His presence or drive them away by what she said. The thought made her hands tremble even more.

Again, she tried to focus on the crowd. She could see her family smiling. She looked at her mother: the perfect missionary dressed in her royal blue suit and large matching hat that only rivaled First Lady Moore's large white hat with feathers. She couldn't believe this was the same woman who whipped her with an extension cord many times for nothing, and locked her in the closet to keep her from playing with the other kids. Their relationship had been strained for many years. Her mother didn't believe she would go to college or make something of herself. College was her only escape from the hell she called home. So she went to Howard to get as far away from her as she could. However, she missed being with her father, brother, and grandmother.

Misha focused her attention on her grandmother's small body sitting between her mother and her brother on the pews. Their enormous size made her grandmother look frail and weak. Her stare caught Misha's attention and she waved at her. Misha smiled and slightly waved back. She was glad her grandmother was able to make it to the program. At eighty-two years old, she didn't get out much, especially at night. It was beginning to get dark outside and the darkness made her nervous. She liked to be at home when it got dark. But today, she made an exception.

Misha looked at her grandmother's face that had the perfect makeup on it. Always the elegant woman when she went out of the house. At home, she only wore housedresses, winter, spring, summer, and fall, without fail. Her hair was silver and rolled into tight curls that looked like she just took out the pink hair rollers Misha was so used to seeing her wear around the house.

Looking farther into the crowd she eyed the deacons sitting in the front row. She used to think they were nodding in agreement with Bishop. Now she could see some of them were only asleep. How could they be asleep at the beginning of the program? Other people in the crowd were already nodding off too. She shook her head as she began to focus on other people in the church. It was like she could see the joy, peace, hurt, and fear of the people who had gathered to hear her speak. She felt the weight of their pain in her heart. She placed her hand on her chest and continued to breathe deeply. Closing her eyes, she prayed silently to herself for strength to get through this day.

The lyrical voices of the choir singing brought Misha out of her prayer. Her hands were clammy, damp, as they connected with every clap to the music. Bishop stood again to introduce Roger. He seemed so formal to her. She knew this was serious, no time for joking.

“I don't know about y'all, but tonight, I'm nervous. This is one of my own. I'm not going to introduce her. Minister Williams knows her best. But I do want to say she is one of us. She got saved right here in this church and I have watched her grow as a person, a Christian. I love her like my own child. I love all my sons and daughters in the ministry,” he said, turning to look at Misha. “Your family here?” he asked.

Misha stretched her finger toward her family. Bishop asked them to stand as the congregation applauded.

“I know y'all love her. We have adopted her here. We love the work she does here with the junior missionaries and the youth choir. I'm not going to get into all that. I'm sure Minister Williams will tell you all about it. I want y'all to know we love her and are looking forward to hearing her preach.” He turned to look at Misha again. “Are you nervous?” he asked, smiling at her.

Trying not to look nervous, she lifted her hands and over-exaggerated them shaking; and the laughter that followed removed the tension in the pulpit.

“Minister Williams, come on up here.” Bishop walked to Misha and embraced her. “You'll be all right. Take your time and let the Lord use you,” he whispered in her ear. Misha nodded, hugging him tightly.

As Roger stood at the podium introducing her and telling the congregation how much he loved her, Misha sat back in disbelief of where her life had taken her. She was the same girl who used to come into this church with a hangover and only a couple of hours of sleep when Roger would come to pick her up and take her to church. She only came because of him. She did like the preaching, but she loved the party.

As Roger stood at the podium going through her list of accomplishments, including her nomination for rookie teacher of the year last year, flashbacks of how she met him quickly breezed through her mind. It was a cold October day and she was leaving a sorority rush meeting when she met him: standing outside, protesting fraternities and sororities. He walked up to her and called her a beautiful woman of God and began talking to her. She didn't care what he said. The smell of his Obsession cologne was taking her away deep into his beautiful gray eyes. She looked at his ebony skin and perfect smile and thought she would go anywhere with him. That night she had plans to go to the club, but she wanted to get to know him.

He walked her down Georgia Avenue to her dorm and prayed for her before he left. He later called her and invited her to church the following Sunday. When he arrived to pick her up, she didn't tell him she had just gotten in from the club. She had a little too much to drink and her head was pounding. The loud noise in the church was making her feel worse. She wanted to stay with him all day, but not with her hangover. After church, she made an excuse not to go to eat with him. Without complaint, he took her back to her dorm.

She was delighted when she found out he was from Atlanta too. He was so positive and involved with different organizations at the school, unlike some of the guys she grew up with. He was a volunteer at Loaves and Fishes, a local soup kitchen in Washington, and seemed to keep busy and stayed focused. She liked him so much she let him believe he convinced her she would go to hell if she pledged a sorority or a “secret society” as he called it. She never told him she didn't pledge because she didn't have the money.

Her lips curved slightly upward thinking about how they would go out and he always made it a point to get her back to the dorm by eleven. He didn't know that when he left, she would change her clothes and meet her friends to go to the club. She liked him but he was a square. He talked about God and his career all the time. She stayed with him because he was so fine and dependable.

He talked a lot, and although she found some of the things he was saying hard to believe, she stayed anyway. No one else was knocking on her door for a date. Besides, he was a free ride home to Atlanta. Somehow she became attached to him, although something inside of her was telling her to stay away from him. Against her better judgment, she stayed with him even when she began to realize they had little in common.

The day he took her to his home church in Atlanta was life changing. Bishop Moore stood to preach. She had never heard preaching like that before. It was so different from the preaching she heard in the church she grew up in. His message was more life application than repetitive statements. She held on to every word. There was something about him that drew her to the altar that day. Not only did she get saved, she joined the church. She was later baptized there and now she sat, waiting to preach her first sermon.

She heard the choir finishing their second song. She stood and walked to the podium. It was time.

 

 

“Daughter, where did you learn to preach like that?” Bishop yelled over the noise at the restaurant.

“I guess it was all those years of sitting in the Pentecostal church growing up, and your teaching of homiletics and hermeneutics.”

The private room in the restaurant was filled with Kingdom Faith people. When they got together, they were loud. There was a feeling of family, with everyone happy and joking with each other. First Lady Moore complimented Misha's mother on her hat, and they were deep in discussion about shopping.

“Well now that you're a minister, we can really put you to work in the church. You ready?” Bishop asked Misha.

“Well, Bishop, I guess I'm as ready as I can be. I'll have to talk with Roger first.”

“Anything we should know about? Should I get out my formal white robe? You know, the one I use for weddings?”

“Bishop, don't start. Let Mimi enjoy this day first,” Roger quickly chimed in. Everybody at the table began laughing loudly as Roger wiped the imaginary sweat from his brow.

Misha looked over at her grandmother frowning at Roger. “Grandma, are you all right?”

“Chicken's kinda dry.”

“Grandma, I'll go get you something else. What would you like?”

“No, baby. I'm fine. Ti'ed though.”

“It's getting late. Mama, we better go. Y'all, I had a good time,” Misha's mother said, getting up from the table and grasping her mother's arm and helping her up from the chair. She walked over and kissed Misha on the forehead and spoke to everyone as they left the restaurant.

The kiss felt cold and dry to Misha. She knew her mother only did it for show. She really didn't mean it like she loved her. They barely spoke to each other. She had forgiven her mother for the abuse, but it didn't change their relationship. Her mother was so bitter and negative that Misha didn't like being around her and only talked to her when she had to.

She watched as her mother left the restaurant and soon after, others followed. “It is getting late, Bishop. I have to get up early for school tomorrow because I have bus duty. Thank you for the gift. Thank you, everybody, for the gifts,” Misha said.

“Is that all I get for the gift I brought you?” Roger asked.

“The robe is beautiful, Roger. I'll thank you later,” she answered, flirting with him.

Part of their group in the restaurant said, “Oooooooo,” and started laughing.

“Come on, y'all. It's not like that. Get your mind out the gutter. I'm a preacher now. The Bible says be holy.”

“But you're not dead,” someone said and everybody started laughing again.

Roger put Misha's gifts in the car while she hugged Bishop, First Lady, and all of the other people in their group leaving the restaurant. The day was over and she finally had some time alone with Roger. Getting into the car, he leaned over and kissed Misha softly on the lips. There was a knock at the window. “Be holy,” the young lady outside the window said and started laughing. They laughed too as Roger started the car and drove to Misha's apartment.

Arriving at her apartment, Misha and Roger loaded the gifts in their arms and slowly climbed the flight of stairs leading to her apartment. Placing the gifts on her small dining table that divided the living room from the kitchen, Roger reached for Misha's waist, pulling her into him, allowing their bodies to rock from side to side. “Stay a few minutes,” Misha requested.

“I thought you had to get up early.”

“I do. This is the first time we've been alone all day. Stay with me. Just a few minutes.”

Misha held his hand as she led him to the small brown sofa in the center of her living room and sat down. She kicked off her shoes, tossed a couple of pillows on the floor, and curled up on the sofa with her head leaning on his chest. He embraced her and they sat silently for a few minutes.

“Did you see my license?” Misha said, running to the table and picking up the framed certificate she was given at the end of the program. “Can you believe it? Misha Holloway, a preacher?”