Читать книгу Sex In The Sanctuary - Lutishia Lovely - Страница 10

“Man, this sounds serious,” Derrick groaned as he loosened his tie and rested his head back against the chair in his large home office. He methodically rubbed his eyes and then his head, realizing too late that after preaching in two services he didn’t have the energy for this conversation.

“It is, Brother, it is,” King responded, his voice low and equally fatigued. They were silent for a moment. Then Derrick cleared his throat and sat up, his head in his hand.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. What can I do?”

“That’s a question for you to answer.”

King sighed. He’d been dealing with this issue by himself for months, and while glad to be able to unload and get the advice of his dear friend, he didn’t feel any better. “You know I love Tai.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derrick replied. “That’s why I don’t understand this whole thing, because I know you love her. She’s the mother of your children, man, four beautiful babies.”

King sighed again, but was otherwise silent.

Derrick continued, “Does she know?”

“She suspects. But then she always suspects.”

“She has her reasons.”

“I know, but that other stuff happened a long time ago.”

“When it comes to affairs and a woman’s memory, a long time ago is like yesterday.”

“Yeah, I guess.” King leaned back into his wing-backed chair. He was still at the church, in his office. He’d changed out of his suit, which was wet from the sweat of the last service, showered and was wearing a pair of casual navy pants and a white polo shirt with navy ribbing around the collar and sleeves. His shoes were off, and his feet rested on the edge of his massive maple desk. He picked absently at the fish dinner that his staunchest supporter and oldest member, Mother Bailey, had brought him when she found out he’d be staying through until the evening service. His Bible lay open on the other side of the desk along with a copy of the day’s program and a picture drawing of Jesus surrounded by lambs that Mother Bailey’s great-grandson, five-year-old Joshua, had colored in Sunday School. A yellow legal pad of paper was to the left of it with unfinished notes for the Sunday night message written in outline form.

“You got to think of your family, man,” Derrick was saying as King picked up the pen on the legal pad and began to doodle. “That’s your obligation—to God and to them.”

“That’s all I’ve thought about for the past six months, in fact, the past few years. I’m trying, Dee, I’m really trying. Like I said, I still love Tai; I’m just not in love with her. And this other thing, well, it may be too big for me to control.”

“What do you mean, too big for you to control?”

“It’s like no matter what I do, it won’t stop.”

“Ah, come on, King, this is Derrick you’re talking to. I’ve known you for twenty years, and I know you can do anything you set your mind to.”

“This isn’t a mind thing.”

“It’s a dick thing, right?”

“That’s cold, man.”

“Well, isn’t it?”

“It’s a spiritual thing. She’s gotten into my spirit and I can’t get her out.”

Derrick was unmoved. “Start by getting out of her bed, King. That’s the first step to getting her out of your spirit and your life.”

King changed the subject after that, confirming that everything was set for Derrick to be the guest minister at their Leadership Conference coming up in July. They talked about their children: “Yeah, Vivian’s fine, kids growing like weeds.” King congratulated Derrick again on his church’s mass choir CD debut, Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center Sings Thy Kingdom Come! Derrick reiterated his continued support for the Total Truth Association, an organization of Baptist, Methodist and other churches who’d broken away from their more traditional organizational umbrellas to embrace practices not recognized in their denominations, like miracle healing and speaking in tongues. King told Derrick about the Angels of Hope, and Derrick told King about the Kingdom Kick Boxers, a martial arts program for the church’s young men. Finally King looked at his watch, then at the pad, and realized he needed to get back to work. He’d had a sermon prepared, but as so often happened, God had another one in mind.

“Take care, bro’, I’m praying for you,” Derrick said to his brother, whose pain resonated through the telephone.

“Me too, Dee, me too.” King hung up the phone and pushed the half-eaten fish dinner aside. He crossed his arms on the desk, put his head down on top of them and started silently praying in tongues. He had been praying for about thirty minutes, had started feeling his spiritual and physical strength return, when the phone rang. The red private call light lit up. King raised his head, looked at the caller ID. Slowly, resolutely, he picked up the receiver. His “spiritual thing” was on the line.