Diary of a Mad First Lady Read Online Free Page A

But I noticed one lone individual sitting in the back of the church. I could barely believe my eyes. It couldn’t be her. Sure, she looked a little different with her hair longer, but even from a distance, I could tell it was her. To those who were unfamiliar with her, she was like any other parishioner coming to the worship service; but to me, she was my worst nightmare.
    The glee that had filled my heart just moments before was replaced by a twinge of hatred, just at the sight of her. I knew that it was wrong to feel that way, but nobody understood the hell this woman had put me through—and I was far from forgetting it. As a matter of fact, it might have been safe to say that I was still mad as hell.
    My husband’s nudging sliced through my thoughts. I turned and glared at him because in that moment, I didn’t want to be jolted from my anger. Surely, this woman had come back to terrorize me. But this time, she would meet her match. This time, I wouldn’t pray as much as I did before, because when I prayed, God normally spoke some sense into me. I didn’t want any sense; I wanted to kick her butt, because I was one mad first lady.

Chapter Two
    Michelle
     
     
    My eyes were so fixed on the woman who had interrupted my flow of worship that my husband practically nudged a hole in my arm, trying to get my attention.
    “Michelle,” he said as quietly as he could.
    I jerked my head around and gave him the coldest stare. “What?” I shouted back through gritted teeth, and this time, a fake smile.
    “What are you doing?” The puzzled look on his face matched my own, as I was trying to figure out why he was asking such a stupid question.
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “We are the only ones still standing.”
    I followed his eyes to the congregation, and sure enough, we were the only ones who were not seated. The announcement clerk was reading today’s announcements, and I could hear a few people whispering among themselves, no doubt trying to figure out if something was wrong with us.
    My legs were as heavy as steel, but I forced my limbs to slowly move backward as I sat down in my seat with embarrassment all over my face. I turned back to my husband’s questioning eyes, and I knew that I had to give some sort of explanation for my behavior.
    “I’m sorry, baby. Believe it or not, Daphne is sitting in the back of the church,” I managed to get out.
    “What? Daphne?” he said as his eyes scanned toward the back of the church. “You must be mistaken. She’s in a mental institution, baby. How could she be sitting in the back of the church?”
    “I don’t know. If I knew that, I wouldn’t be so flustered,” I said. Suddenly, it came to me. Daphne’s two years in the mental institution were up.
    “Baby, don’t worry about Daphne. Even if it were true that she was here, there’s nothing she can do to you here. Before she even gets close, an army of people will be there to stop her.”
    Did he just hear me? She is here.
    And, obviously, she couldn’t be stopped, because she was sitting in our church. I wanted to scream this to Darvin, but he had already turned his focus back to the service. I know it had been two years, but was I the only one who remembered just how subtle and conniving this woman could be? It was these traits that landed her directly into our lives.
    Her desire to be intricately involved in the ministry matched our own need to have more volunteers. With her passion and willingness to work and make unending sacrifices, she quickly stood out from among the others.
    While most were talking, she was busy doing. I had accepted her against my better judgment. As a result, she’d dined with us. She’d shopped with me. She’d spent long hours talking to my husband about various ways she could help us improve the ministry. She’d traveled with me to my speaking engagements and had served me just as if she’d been called by God to do specifically that. And in all of that, I was too blind to