Free Diary of a Mad First Lady by Dishan Washington Page B

probably would have floated right to it.
    The man in the dusty suit stepped up to the van, opened the door, and extended his hand toward me. I looked at him with eyes of confusion, and the smile on his face suddenly looked sickening to me.
    “Ms. Carlton, your chariot awaits,” he said as he pointed to the vehicle.
    The big white blob parked in front of me was in no way a chariot. The oversized red letters boldly displayed on the side of it read:
     
MOUNTZIONBAPTISTCHURCH . . . ACHURCHWITHAVISION .
     
    I blinked my eyes over and over in hopes of making the van and the man disappear. I simply could not believe that Darvin would send this man, who looked as if he had just stepped out of the Soul Train line, to give me a ride to church. The nerve of him.
    “Ms.,” he said impatiently, “I wish I could stand here all night, but I have other people to pick up. Are you going or not?”
    If visions of Darvin and his kindness earlier in the day hadn’t suddenly come to mind, I would have marched through the same doors that I’d just exited, and gone back to my apartment. But I figured that the least I could do was go to his church to pay him back for giving me a ride home. And besides, he was as fine as the day was long. Surely, there was a good explanation behind this whole thing.
    So, I reluctantly entered the van and was immediately greeted by an elderly woman wearing a dress that looked as if it dated back to the ’70s, and a small boy who appeared to be her grandson.
    I returned the greeting with a simple nod of my head. Had it not been for the fear of wrinkling the expensive suit that I was wearing, I would have sunk deep into the seat with no regard for anyone noticing that I existed.
    I was so grateful that no one knew me in Atlanta, because I wouldn’t have been caught riding in a van to church.
    I survived the ride and was in awe when we drove up to the massive edifice. I don’t know why I was expecting anything less, because Darvin didn’t seem to be the type to be affiliated with anything other than the best. On the other hand, I didn’t think he would send the church bus to pick me up, but he did. I thanked God that the ride home would be different, and it was that thought that brought the sunshine back into my day.
    The driver came around and opened the door for all of the passengers and I carefully stepped out. Since it was my first time attending, I had no clue where to go. The other passengers seemed to be so familiar with what to do, so I followed everyone else.
    I walked into the spacious foyer of the sanctuary and beheld the expensive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I admired the marble tile that appeared to have been flown in from another country, as well as the life-size statues of lions that were protected by chain ropes. I was more than impressed with what I saw, and I was eagerly looking forward to the service that was yet to begin. I’d been in church all of my life, but had never really gotten involved. I felt a change coming on, and from the looks of it, Mount Zion Baptist Church would benefit from my plethora of talents. My mother used to always tell me that if I didn’t start using the gifts God gave me, He would eventually take them away. Now that I was about to have me a churchgoing man, I certainly didn’t need that to happen.
    I followed the signs that led to the sanctuary and walked inside. If the foyer wasn’t enough to capture your attention, the sanctuary didn’t disappoint.
    With TV cameras, special lights, and the plush carpet, the atmosphere was breathtaking. Mount Zion was definitely the opposite of what I was accustomed to seeing at home in Florida. The church that I grew up in was a small white church that had wooden floors and pews, yellow jackets buzzing in the summer, and the smell of fried chicken in every room. So, this was a new perspective of church, and I was enjoying it already.
    I took a seat in the back of the third section about midway down the row, hoping