The Veil (11 page)

“Grandma, I can't take your stuff,” Misha said, pushing the Bible away from her.

“I want you to have it. Not mine no mo'. It's yours, for you and yo' family. Don't you worry your head about what some docta said. Put yo' children's names in that Bible. Keep the family line going.” Misha reached over and hugged her grandmother. “Now, child, go over yonder and get that phone and call yo' mama.”

Misha picked up the phone and called her mother and told her what the doctor said. She left off the part about not being able to have children. She wanted only people of great faith to know her situation so they could touch and agree with her. As she spoke with her mother, she was looking at her grandmother and started to make faces.

“Child, bring me that phone.” She reached for the phone.

“Mama, Grandma wants to speak to you.”

“Ruth Ann, I gives Missy that Bible on the fireplace. It's hers now.” Misha could hear her mother's voice screaming. Her grandmother held the phone away from her ear as she watched Misha cover her mouth, trying not to laugh out loud. “The Lord done blessed her with healing. Ought to be happy. I's ti'ed. Here Missy.” She handed the phone back to Misha.

“Mama, I've got to go. I'll talk to you later.” She hung up the phone and laughed so hard her side hurt. “Ooooooo, Grandma, you're soooo bad.”

“I's know how to handle your mama. She be mad a few days. She get over it.”

Misha continued laughing as she helped her grandmother finish cleaning the kitchen and enjoyed the evening with her grandmother, who had a way of helping her forget about her troubles. She always had a way of letting her know everything would be all right.

Misha woke up suddenly from her deep sleep.
It's time to leave that church,
she heard in her spirit. She got up and turned on the light. She looked at the clock: 2:17. She groaned and turned on the television. It was just a dream. However, it was good she was awake because she could feel the start of her monthly visitor. It was late, she assumed, because of the surgery. She got up and went into the bathroom and did what she had to do and climbed back into the bed. She set the sleep timer on her television and curled up and went back to sleep.

She was awakened by strong cramps. Finding she was bleeding heavily, she was not alarmed because her doctor had warned her that this may happen the first month after the surgery. But she didn't expect it to be this bad. Rushing to the bathroom to take a quick shower and to take a Tylenol she prayed, “Lord, I don't want to go to church this morning. I'm supposed to help in children's church. Since I gave my word, strengthen me to do this today.” The pain in her abdomen was severe. She walked slowly bent over as she dressed for church. The room began to spin and she braced herself against the table until the feeling went away. She had to go to church—she gave her word. After much debate she left for church.

Arriving in the pastor's study where the other ministers were gathered she was greeted by her pastor with a hug. “Hey, girl. You still going with us today?” Pastor Simpson asked her. She had forgotten about traveling with Pastor Simpson to a church where he was scheduled to preach. She looked at him, trying to decide what to tell him. She did tell him she was going. The associate ministers always traveled with him when he preached. She didn't feel like it today. But, she gave her word.

“Sure, Pastor.”
I'm so sick, I can hardly stand. I want to go home and spend the rest of my day fighting these horrible cramps
. The thought was on the tip of her tongue. She kept it to herself. It would have been an inappropriate thing to say.

“We're going to eat after morning service and then we're going to the church.”

“I have something to do after morning service. I'll meet you at the church.”

After morning service, Misha drove as quickly as she could to get to her apartment. She hadn't spoken to anyone on her way out of the church. She had just been glad church was over and couldn't wait to leave. The Tylenol, which barely helped the pain, was wearing off. She could feel intense cramping and the heavy flow of blood. It seemed as if it was getting worse with each passing hour. She had never experienced anything like this before. She debated whether to call her doctor or stay at home and nurse her raging body. Since she gave her word, she would go to the service and support her pastor. She changed her clothes and put on a pair of black pants with a camisole and a long, flowing blouse that went to her knees. She changed her purse to a larger purse and filled it with sanitary napkins and tampons and headed to the church.

When she arrived at the church, she squeezed into the corner of the last pew in the back of the church. Sitting there she wouldn't disturb the service when she had to go to the bathroom. Before she left the house she had taken one of the pain pills the doctor had given her after her surgery, and her eyes felt heavy. She prayed the service would be upbeat so she could move around and stay alert. The good in it all was the pill eased her pain.

The service started and, to her delight, it was an upbeat praise and worship service. The people praised like Kingdom Faith. They sang all the old devotion songs and rocked the house with them. Pastor Simpson and the other ministers entered the sanctuary and walked onto the pulpit. Pastor Simpson knelt down to pray and then sat down in one of the upholstered chairs. He leaned over and began talking with the other pastor. After praise and worship, the pastor stepped to the podium and kept the crowd hyped up with his words of exhortation.

“We'd like to thank all of our visitors for being with us to celebrate our ushers' anniversary. If you are visiting with us for the first time, stand up and let us welcome you.”

Misha and a few others from True Life stood. Pastor Simpson stood and whispered into the pastor's ear.

“We have another minister from True Life with us today. Minister Holloway, it's good to have you visiting with us today. Come and join us in the pulpit.”

Misha knew this was the wrong day to sit in the pulpit. She had to be close to the bathroom without creating a distraction. She stood. “Thank you, Pastor. I may have to sneak out early. I don't want to disturb the service. So, I think I will sit here,” she said politely.

The pastor continued to recognize other visiting ministers and invited them to the pulpit. She was the only minister who did not go to the pulpit when invited. She could feel the tightness that moved from her lower back to her front. She got up and went to the bathroom.
Made it just in time.
As she sat on the toilet, she could feel the flow like water streaming out of her body. She had no idea it would be this bad. She had never experienced anything like this before. What was wrong with her? Was she being punished for something? Did the doctor miss something during the surgery? Should she call her doctor? No, she would look like an idiot. She was told this would happen. Deciding it was best for her to go home, she walked out of the church and got into her car. She was no help to anyone and a danger on the road after taking the pill. Luckily she was not far from home. She could make it fine. Pastor Simpson would understand why she left.

Misha took Monday off and nursed her cramps and heavy flow. After calling Dr. Trinidad, she was assured it was normal bleeding after surgery. It didn't feel normal. She was told if it did not let up in a couple of days or she felt sick, to come into the office. This satisfied her and she spent the day curled up on her sofa watching television in between trips to the bathroom. She prayed for her healing and that this passed quickly.

By Wednesday, she was back to normal. Her flow was light and she felt comfortable enough to go to Bible Study. When she arrived at the church a young man told her Pastor Simpson was looking for her. She walked to his office and peeped in the already open door. “Pastor, you wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, close the door.”

“What's up?”

“What happened to you Sunday?” he said, rocking back and forth in his chair.

“What do you mean?” She didn't want to tell him what was happening to her.

“You didn't sit in the pulpit and you left early. What's up with that?”

“I had an emergency and did not want to disrupt the service.”

“You embarrassed me when you did that. I told him to invite you up and you didn't even bother to come.” He leaned back in his chair and sat right back up again. “You know it's an insult not to go into the pulpit when you are invited. You insulted the pastor and embarrassed me. Bishop Moore told me, when I called him about your license, you would be an embarrassment to me.”

“You've been talking to Bishop about me?”

“Yeah, on more than one occasion. He calls here to check up on you. Now I have to tell him he was right. I should have listened to him. You've been here almost a year and still haven't joined the church. I treated you like one of our own, like a member. If you're going to stay here, you need to be taught how to act.”

“Pastor, I apologize. I didn't mean to embarrass you.” She could not believe what she was hearing. Apparently Bishop did not know how to let things go. He was checking up on her and continuing to talk about her. Why? Why was he trying to tarnish her reputation? One minute she was his daughter, the next she was the enemy. What was he trying to prove? She did not do anything to him. She certainly was not trying to destroy his ministry. He was trying to destroy hers.

“You did. Try not to do it again. If you don't want to sit in the pulpit, don't go anywhere with me. All my ministers sit in the pulpit to support me. I need to know you have my back. It's all kinds of demons out there and I need someone praying for me when I preach.”

“I'll remember that. Anything else?”

Pastor Simpson shook his head no. She exited the office. Another minister followed her into the ladies' room down the hall. As she hugged Misha she began to pray loud, drawing the attention of others. Now, Misha was embarrassed. None of these people had her best interest at heart.

She wanted so much to go. However, they were having a prayer meeting in the bathroom. People were screaming, crying, and falling out. Misha sat on the sofa in the powder room looking at people laying hands on each other, prophesying and crying.

This time when she heard it, she picked up her purse and eased out the door and to her car.

When she arrived home, she began to talk to herself. “I was an embarrassment to him? He has been talking to Bishop Moore about me? Neither one of them taught me anything about the ministry. Bishop Moore only taught me how to put a sermon together and that was with some books I read. He really hasn't taught me a thing. I didn't know it was an insult to not go to the pulpit when invited. I didn't know. And Pastor Simpson, he hasn't taught me a thing. Nothing. The cool pastor, the hip pastor, all of this was a disguise for the same old thing—same thing, new people. Well, if he thinks he has gotten rid of me, he has another think coming.”

 

 

That night, as Misha slept, she heard the voice again.
It's time to leave that church.
She woke up and sat up on her bed. She shook her head.
Is this really the Lord or my fight or flight coming into play?
She prayed, “God give me the strength to stay at True Life. I'm not going to let those Negroes run me out of that church. I'm a strong black woman. I'm a strong Christian woman.”

She lowered her body underneath her covers and quickly fell asleep. Her body rolled over the edge of the bed. It felt as if something pushed her out of the bed. She felt herself falling but couldn't stop it.

“God, I'm tired. I've got bus duty in the morning. I have to get some sleep.” She got up off the floor and crawled back into her bed. She was wide-awake. Nothing she did helped her get back to sleep. She got up and took one of the pain pills because she knew it would make her sleepy. She sat up and watched the clock until she could no longer see the numbers.

Her sleep was not a peaceful one. She was tormented by her vivid dreams.

Feeling the lightheaded effect of the medication, she sat on the edge of the bed. She looked at the clock. She had only been asleep for thirty minutes. She curled up on her pillow and dozed back off to sleep when she thought she felt the bed shake. She sat up again and turned on the light. The pill was beginning to make her body shake. Why was her body fighting sleep?

She walked around and watched a little television. She pressed the button on the remote until she stopped on Christian television. Shante Patrick was talking about how difficult it was for her to leave her church and start a new ministry with her husband. She testified about her walking in disobedience because she didn't want the people to feel they ran her out of the church. Then she realized she was out of order. Misha somehow knew this message was for her. She eased down the side of her bed and fell on her knees and began to repent. “God, tell me, what you want me to do?” She continued to pray until she fell asleep.

The next morning Misha woke up on the floor beside her bed. She felt extremely tired and nervous. She looked at the clock. It was 7:32. “Oh no, I'm late.” Adrenaline flowed as she hurriedly got dressed and ran for the door to go to work. She called the school to tell them she was running late and finally made it before first period was over.

When she arrived in her class, Roger was sitting at her desk, looking at some papers. “Mr. Williams, what are you doing here?” She stopped in her tracks.

“The principal asked me if I could sit in with your class until you arrived.” He set the stack of papers in his hand on her desk.

“Thank you for your help. I'm just running late this morning. Any problems?” She casually walked into the room.

“No. They're a great group of kids.” Some of the students laughed. “I've been keeping them entertained. I didn't see a lesson plan for today on your desk. I would have started their work for you.”

“I have it with me. Thanks. I can handle it now.” She stared at Roger, waiting for him to move from her desk.

“I'm sorry. I guess you need your desk.” Roger stood and walked to the door. “Bye, guys,” he said, waving to the class.

“Bye, Mr. Williams,” they all sang at once, sounding like an elementary school class.

She began to teach her class when one of the students raised his hand. “Yes, Daniel.”

“Mimi, can I go to the bathroom?” The other students in the class laughed.

Misha was shocked to hear him call her Mimi. Only one person called her Mimi—Roger. What did he say to her students? She stood stoic, trying not to show her anger. She placed her hand on her hip and asked, “Daniel, who told you to call me that?”

“Mr. Williams, he said you would understand the joke.” The other students continued laughing.

“What else did Mr. Williams tell you?”

“He said y'all went to college together and you used to party a lot.”

“What was it like going to clubs every night?” another student asked. The class seemed to think it was even funnier. Misha could feel there was something more. He was only in her class about thirty minutes. What else could he have said about her?