The Veil (13 page)

“Oh yeah. What is it?” He stood looking at her with a big, wide smile.

“Not every woman who sees you wants you. Not every woman who hears you sing wants you. Once you get that in your head, your life will be a whole lot better. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go.”

Misha started her car and pulled out of the space, leaving him standing in the road where her car had been parked. She looked in her rearview mirror and could see the two men on the sidewalk laughing as Bernard slowly walked toward them. She took a deep breath, letting out all the tension she felt. She handled that situation pretty good. She felt empowered.
A famous gospel artist. Be for real.
Her lips curved, smiling. She pressed the gas, trying to get home to eat her food before her ribs got cold.

Bernard Taylor stood alone on the sidewalk, staring in the direction Misha sped away from him. There was something special about that girl. He wished he had approached her differently. She was beautiful. He could still see her big, deep brown, doe eyes that smiled even when she wasn't smiling. Her voice was filled with sassafras and sweet tea, challenging him. No one outside his family had ever dared to do that before.

She never heard of me?
He liked it. His lips curved upward, forming deep dimples along the sides of his mouth. He wished he'd had one of his guys get her tag number. He would really like to know who she was. Maybe they would run into each other the next time he was in Atlanta. He would send up a special prayer just for that. Shaking his head, he walked back into the restaurant.

Friday evening Misha was surprised to get a phone call from Roger, saying he couldn't find anyone to preach and asking her to do it. She reluctantly agreed although everything in her spirit was telling her not to do it. She was already tired from taking up tickets at the football game and watching another brutal defeat of the Westdale Eagles, so she decided to wait until Saturday to begin studying for her sermon.

After all, it was just Roger. She did not have to impress him with her preaching style to get a return invitation. Besides, she needed the money. If she only got a couple hundred dollars, it would help. Her sermon would not be long. She could get in and get out without having to deal with Roger too much. She could show up right after service began, but in time to walk into the pulpit with the other guests. Hopefully, they would give her a check during a special presentation during the service. Then, she could leave immediately after benediction. Sounded like a plan to her.

Saturday went by and she did not have a sermon. No scripture popped out at her as she studied. She decided to preach one she already had. She had nervous tension as she drove to Roger's church wearing her white suit. She prayed along the way that God gave her strength to preach. She needed God's help to strengthen her since she was traveling alone. She did not dare tell her grandmother she was preaching at Roger's church, knowing how she felt about him.

She pulled into a space on the side of the church and watched the people going into the church. After praying quietly in her car, she walked into the church and asked an usher for the pastor's office. The usher escorted her to Roger's office. When she walked in, she noticed she was the only woman there. Roger was sitting in a large chair behind a desk and he jumped up as if he was surprised to see her there. She walked around the room, introducing herself to the men in the room. Roger asked her to have a seat and one of the men stood up to give her a seat.

There was another knock on the door. As the door opened, Bishop Moore entered the room. Roger jumped up and hugged him. The other men stood and Bishop greeted each one of them. When he got to Misha, he hugged her and asked her why she was there.

“Roger invited me to preach.”

Bishop looked at Roger. Roger sat back in his chair without saying a word.

“When? It's men's day. I have on my schedule I'm supposed to preach this morning,” Bishop explained.

Misha knew Roger had set her up. She knew he was a little too anxious to get her to come. He even called her Saturday night to be sure she was coming. Now, she was looking like an idiot in front of all those men. She knew why God did not give her a sermon. How could she have been so gullible? She wanted to believe he was sincere. He knew she would help him with his ministry. This was the final straw. She had enough of him. However, she had to get out of that office—that church.

Misha opened her purse and pretended she was looking for her calendar. “Bishop, I probably got my days mixed up. I was pretty sure it was today. I can't find my calendar. Well this is awkward. I guess I'll go out in the sanctuary and enjoy the service.”

“No, you don't have to go. Sit here with us, daughter. I haven't seen you in a while. How are you doing? Roger said you were sick.”

“It wasn't anything serious. I think I'll go out and sit in the sanctuary. It was good seeing you again, Bishop.” Misha walked out into the hallway. She could hear the men in the office laughing loudly. She headed straight for the exit door.
How could I have been so stupid?
Roger was not going to ruin her day or any days to come. Something welled up in her stomach—a silent strength. She knew she had to experience this to see how far Roger was willing to go to make her look stupid. He was an idiot she did not have time for. The decision was made not to speak to him again and maybe, just maybe, he would leave her alone.

 

 

The next day, during her planning period, she was called to Mr. Davis's office. When she entered the room, she saw Roger sitting in a chair, crying. “I'm sorry. I'll come back.” She turned to leave the room.

“No, Ms. Holloway. This concerns you. Come in and have a seat,” he said stoically.

Misha walked into the office. Mr. Davis closed the door and returned to the chair behind his desk. Roger was looking out the window, sniffing. Now there was anger welling in her belly. She knew he was up to something dirty. How dirty was yet to be seen.

“Ms. Holloway, Roger tells me the two of you have a history. He's still pretty shaken up about yesterday.”

“Yesterday? What do you mean yesterday?” She looked over at Roger, who was still looking out the window.

“He said you showed up at his church uninvited and tried to force him to let you preach. He said there are a number of witnesses who will testify to this.”

“Testify? Roger?” She looked over at Roger again. He was sitting in his chair with his head lowered. Misha knew he was only pretending he was upset. Her heart began to beat fast. Sweat beaded on the palms of her hands. She wanted to go off on him but she could tell by the look on Mr. Davis's face it wasn't the time.

“Mr. Davis, Roger invited me to his church to preach. He even called me Saturday night to see if I was coming. When I got there, I found out it was men's day and our father in the ministry was preaching. If he said I showed up uninvited, it's not true. Is it, Roger?” she asked sternly.

Roger still did not look up. Misha shook her head in disgust, a frown forming on her face. Now Roger was trying to get her fired. “Roger, tell him the truth. You invited me. Tell him.” Misha pleaded for Roger to tell the truth.

“Ms. Holloway,” Mr. Davis said. “I'm trying to keep this between us. However, I cannot accept this type of behavior in my school. Because the incident did not happen on school property, there is really nothing I can do about it. But, if you bring it to my school, or me, then it will become a problem. You have been a good teacher. I nominated you myself for rookie teacher of the year. In all my years of working with the school, I have never had a problem like this before.”

“He's lying. He invited me. Roger, how could you do this to me? We dated for almost four years and now you are treating me like this?” Misha exclaimed, not hiding her disbelief. “I haven't done anything to you. I've even tried to help you by referring students to your program. I know you are a good worker. I don't understand why you're treating me like this. I thought you were bad when you had Gloria come up to me and threaten me, but this is stooping too low.”

“Gloria? What does she have to do with this?”

“Apparently, she and Roger have something going on.”

“Is this true, Roger?”

He shook his head no.

“Ms. Holloway, I have to warn you I cannot allow this behavior in my school. I won't put this in your personnel records. But if something like this comes up again, I'm going to have to notify the district.”

Misha was so upset she trembled. Her SWATs roots were deep in her soul and were about to show up. Girls from southwest Atlanta are too strong and don't take a whole lot of crap from people. Roger was about to push her back over the edge. Her hands gripped the armrest, preventing her from reaching over and choking him. Mr. Davis asked Roger to leave them alone. Roger exited the room without saying a word.

“Look, I know how hard it is to end a friendship. Roger said you were only friends. Just stay away from him. Don't have anything to do with him. I would hate to lose you as a teacher. You're a good educator and that's hard to find these days. Now, pull yourself together. Would you like some water?”

She shook her head no. “Mr. Davis, you have to believe me. He invited me. He said his speaker cancelled and he needed someone on short notice. I wouldn't have gone if he didn't say he was in a tight fix.”

Mr. Davis wiped his face with his hand. “Just try to stay away from him. Please, I beg you. Leave him alone.”

“You don't have anything to worry about. I didn't fool with him after we broke up over a year ago, and now with all of this, I definitely won't have anything else to do with him again.”

Misha walked out of the office feeling emotionally drained. She walked into the teacher's lounge to try to get herself together, until she saw Roger and Gloria sitting closely at a table, laughing and talking. He looked as though he got over his emotional breakdown quickly. They stopped talking when she walked through the door and stared at her. She turned around and walked to her classroom. Why would he do something so childish to her? It was as if they never meant anything to each other. Her grandmother saw it from the beginning. She should have listened to her.

His antics did teach her one thing—to no longer accept any invitations to speak that were not in writing. She had nothing to prove he had, in fact, actually invited her to preach. She had no defense. It was his word against hers. She vowed never to be in that situation again, not only with Roger, but also with anyone who asked her to preach.

Misha walked down the hallways that were decorated for Spirit Week, trying to hold back her anger. Revenge would be so sweet—cut his tires, sugar in the gas tank, set up a “watch out for rats” Web site with his picture. So many crazy thoughts ran through her head she had to laugh at them. Amber came out of a classroom, interrupting her thoughts.

“Ms. Holloway, you're coming to the game Friday, right? Remember, you promised to help the homecoming committee with the parade.”

“Sure, Amber. I'll be there. You better get to class before the bell.”

“It's my lunch break. So, I'm cool. Besides, we still have work to do on the float. I've got to look good after they crown me homecoming queen.”

“You're so sure of that. The students don't vote until lunch Thursday.”

“Oh, I'm going to be homecoming queen, then Miss Westdale High. I rule.” Amber began doing one of her cheerleader kicks, waving her arms in the air—her blond hair waving with her movements.

“That's enough of that. Now get to the cafeteria.” Misha was glad she ran into Amber in the hallway. Her upbeat attitude and cheerful, positive outlook and silliness made her smile and for a brief moment made her forget about Roger.

The rest of the day passed by slowly as Misha continued to keep her mind on her work. She debated to herself if she should talk to somebody about the incident. She knew the only one she could trust was her grandmother. She did not want to tell her because of the way she felt about Roger. But she needed to talk with someone. She did not want to talk to Judy. For some reason, she felt Judy had some drama of her own. She didn't have a pastor she could talk to. She had to talk to someone. At the end of the school day, she took a deep breath and headed to her grandmother's home, deciding that was her only option.

Misha could see her grandmother in the front yard, raking leaves. She pulled into the driveway and got out of the car.

“Hey, Grandma. What'cha cook?” She tried to sound cheerful.

“Got some turkey neck bones and rice.”

“You're the only one I know who cooks that kind of stuff. Do you have any left?”

“It's on the stove. Come on. I fix ya a plate.” The two of them walked into the house and Misha quietly fixed herself a plate. “You're quiet today.”

“I got things on my mind.”

“Well, child, nothing a good meal won't fix.”

“I wish it was that easy, Grandma. I think Roger is trying to get me fired.” Misha began telling her grandmother about the invitation and the men's day program. She told her how embarrassed she was to be called to the principal's office and how she felt seeing Roger there crying like a little girl. “He was trying to make me look crazy. Like some lunatic stalking him. I hadn't talked to him or seen him in months until he came to my school to work. He's even got one of the teachers threatening me.”

“I don't see why you fool with him anyhows. Tell he ain't no count.”

“He was good to me.”

“If he was, I ain't seen it. He talks to you so bad, almost made me cuss.”

“I didn't realize it then. Looking back, now I do. He was real critical of me. How could I have gotten mixed up with him? I feel so stupid.”

“Don't beat yo'self up. We all make mistakes. It's going to be all right. We'll pray him outta there. That's what we're gonna do. You needs your job. That's a good job.”

This made Misha happy. If anyone could get a prayer through, it was her grandmother. She knew it wouldn't be long before Roger was completely out of her life. She began to attack her food like she did when she was a little kid. She loved her grandmother's food, even though she would never admit to anyone she ate neck bones. She licked her fingers and talked at the same time. “Grandma, I'm going to the Remnant Church Sunday. You wanna go?”

“Remnant? That one of those churches . . . What y'all call them?”

“Mega church.”

“Whateva. Too big for me. What you going there for?”

“I don't know. It's been in my spirit to go. Maybe it's where the Lord is leading me.”

“Well you just do what God tells you. I'm fine. The bus pick me up Sunday.”

“Okay. Well, if you change your mind, give me a call.”

“I sho' will. You tell yo' mama?”

“Now, Grandma, you know I don't tell her anything.”

“You gon' hafta learn how to get along wit' yo' mama. She spoil but you spoil, too. I spoil both ya. I'm not gon' be 'round fo'eva.”

“Stop talking like that. You ain't going nowhere.”