Charlotte slipped on her fuchsia satin robe, tied the belt, and left her bedroom. She’d just finished showering for church, and now she was headed to Curtina’s room to make sure she was up and getting ready.
She stopped in front of Curtina’s door and knocked three times. But there was no response. So she tried opening it—only to discover it was locked. She knocked again much harder. But there was still no answer, and Charlotte was through being cordial. “Curtina, open up this door! And I mean open it now!”
Finally, Curtina opened it, but the moment their eyes locked, Curtina raised her eyebrows, turned away, and went back over to her bed. She plopped down on it, picked up her phone, and started typing.
Charlotte walked into the room and folded her arms. “Didn’t we tell you to stop locking that door?”
Curtina gazed up at her mother but then continued typing.
“And why aren’t you getting dressed for church?”
Curtina still kept typing, likely some pointless text message to one of her little girlfriends, but said, “I will in a minute.”
“Put your phone away. Now. And get in the shower.”
Curtina never missed a beat. Her fingers kept moving, as though Charlotte weren’t even in the room.
But Charlotte was done playing with her. “Give me that phone,” she yelled, storming closer to the bed and snatching it from her. “And you’ve got five seconds to get your behind up and into that bathroom.”
“Give me my phone back,” Curtina yelled, reaching for it.
Charlotte moved away from her and looked at the screen. She read the words twice, each time feeling stunned…and hurt: Any min she’ll be bargin in2 my room like sum madwoman tellin me 2 get ready. She n my dad make me sick.
“Mom, please give me my phone.”
Charlotte shook her head and squinted her eyes at her daughter. “Wow…just wow. So, this is what you think of your father and me? After all we do for you?”
“No.”
“Then why are you talking badly about us to Taylor? Why are you being so disrespectful? Maybe what we need to do is take this little phone of yours for good.”
Curtina sighed with disgust, rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, stomped into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
Charlotte took a few deep breaths, because what she wanted more than anything was to burst in there behind Curtina and do what her own mom would have done to her, had she mouthed off that way when she was twelve years old. But for as long as Charlotte had officially been Curtina’s mother, ever since she was two, Charlotte had never as much as spanked her, let alone slapped her or yanked her back to her senses. But God help her, today she truly wanted to, and it was taking everything in her to govern her temper. Curtina was spiraling further and further out of control, and this smartphone of hers was the sole cause of it. She was on it all the time, either texting her two best friends, Taylor and Lauren, both of whom were too grown for their own good, or browsing, commenting, or uploading photos to Instagram and Snapchat. Charlotte didn’t know what she and Curtis were going to do with her, because over the last few months, she’d begun isolating herself more and more. She went to school and church—by force—but when she was home, she spent all but mealtimes in her room. And sometimes she talked back to Curtis and Charlotte as though they were children. Interestingly enough, she did this more to Charlotte than she did to her father, because as much as Curtis loved his baby daughter, he never allowed her to get away with as much as Charlotte sometimes did.
But while Charlotte stood there, debating whether she should summon Curtina back into the bedroom, she just didn’t feel like fighting with her like she was a thirty-year-old woman. So instead, Charlotte left and went back to her own room. Once there, she closed the door and sat on the edge of her bed.
For the last month, she hadn’t been sure why alcohol had suddenly begun crossing her mind again on a regular basis. Especially since she and Curtis were happy. To be honest, they’d never been happier. But she knew the problems that they were starting to have with Curtina had something to do with it. And none of it made much sense, because as little as one year ago, Curtina had still been the kind of daughter any parent would have been proud to have. She’d done what she was told with very few objections, she’d gotten straight A’s in school, and she’d held the highest respect for not only her parents but also other adults. As of late, however, she’d become a difficult girl who Charlotte and Curtis didn’t know, and it was making Charlotte want to drink.
Although, Charlotte did have to admit that Curtina wasn’t the only problem she was battling, as she was also tired of being first lady of the largest church in Mitchell. The reason: It was all way too much for her to deal with…every…single…day…of…every…single…week.
Charlotte shook her head, wishing she could crawl back under the covers. But as her mind wandered from one thing to the next, she thought about her other children and her sweet little grandson and smiled. They were all doing well, and Matthew and Stacey had just celebrated their second anniversary. Charlotte loved Stacey a lot more than she had Matthew’s first wife, Racquel, and what she admired most about Stacey was that she loved and treated MJ as though he were her own. Shockingly, Racquel had seemed fine with the idea of Matthew getting remarried, and she also didn’t seem to have a problem with Matthew keeping full custody of their son. She’d been released from the mental institution for a while now and certainly could have petitioned the court for joint custody, but Charlotte could tell she truly wanted what was best for MJ.
Charlotte also had a much better relationship with her stepson, Dillon, someone she once hadn’t been able to stand, and of course, Alicia was still more like a younger sister and close friend to Charlotte than she was a stepdaughter. So Charlotte was sure that, to the outside world and even to those close to her, her life seemed perfect.
But it wasn’t. She certainly wanted it to be. However, being first lady to nearly seven thousand members was more than a notion. Worse, she was tired of smiling every Sunday morning whether she wanted to or not. She was tired of pretending to be the happiest woman on earth even on the days when she didn’t feel well, or she simply wanted to stay home, resting…just because. And sometimes, she desperately wanted to spend the day out, enjoying herself. Because for the life of her, she didn’t understand what was so wrong with that. She did love God with all her heart and she knew the importance of worshiping and fellowshiping with other believers, but sometimes she just wanted to be free. She wanted to snatch away the mask she sometimes wore only to satisfy Curtis, her family, and the congregation. Once upon a time, she’d loved dressing to the hilt and purchasing the best clothing money could buy—and being one of the most well-known first ladies in the country. But now she was tired of worrying about what everyone would think, particularly church people—those at Deliverance Outreach, those at local churches, and those in every other city nationwide. Because truth was, she was churched out. She was tired of living her life in a vacuum. Tired of doing only the kind of things that holier-than-thou Christians expected a first lady of a church to do. The kinds of things that some of those same holier-than-thou church folks weren’t even doing themselves. Not to mention the fact that many of them were doing wrong every chance they got.
But to be clear, it wasn’t that Charlotte wanted to return to a life of sin, because she didn’t. No, what she wanted was to live a life that didn’t involve public scrutiny, judgment, and unrealistic expectations. She wanted to focus on connecting with women who genuinely cared about her and not spend her time smiling and making cordial conversation with those who didn’t. Those who talked about her behind her back. Those who wanted her husband and didn’t try to hide it. Thankfully, Curtis never paid them any mind, and if they approached him in the wrong way, he always set them straight. And more important, Charlotte knew how much Curtis loved her and how dedicated he was to their marriage. Still, it bothered her to know that some wannabe mistresses would always find their way to the church. Women who had no moral values, let alone any God in them. Women who were willing to stoop as low as Charlotte once had herself a few years ago. Foul women who wanted to take her place.
So she just wanted out. She wanted to take a break from Sunday morning services, weekly Bible study, all women’s ministry activities, and everything relating to organized religion. She needed some time off. A much-needed, self-ordered sabbatical, if you will. Because if she didn’t get it soon, she was going to do a lot more than just think about alcohol. She was going to consume it, enjoy it, and not feel guilty about it. She wouldn’t drink to get drunk the way she had in the past, but she would at least have a glass of wine. She would do it to settle her nerves, and so she wouldn’t have to think about Curtina and her awful attitude. She would do it so she could forget about everything church for a while and be normal.
She would do it because if she didn’t, she might lose her mind.