Never Say Never (16 page)

She nodded. “That's what Pastor Ford said, too.”

“Pastor Ford is right.”

“And Mama said that LaTrisha is with Grandpa, too.”

I nodded because I could feel my emotions rising inside of me. I said, “So, see? LaTrisha's not by herself.”

“But suppose Jesus doesn't know her, and He won't play with her?”

I couldn't remember another time when words made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. “You don't have to worry about that. Jesus knows LaTrisha really well.”

“He does? When did He meet her?”

“A long, long time ago.”

“Before we were one year old?”

“Yes,” I said, needing to keep this really simple. “Before then.”

“So, do you think He's playing with her?”

“I don't know how it really works in heaven, but I know that everyone who's there is very happy and excited to be there.”

“If LaTrisha's happy, she wants me to be happy, too. 'Cause I'm not happy since she died.”

There was a boulder growing in my throat. “She's going to want you to be there, but she doesn't want you to come for a long, long time. Because there's something else that she wants you to do.”

“What?”

“Since she's with Jesus and since she's happy, LaTrisha wants you to stay here with your mom and dad and take care of them so you will all be happy.”

The little girl didn't move. Her eyes were filled with wonder, as if she was listening to a fairy tale.

I continued, “LaTrisha wants you to stay here because she doesn't want your mom and dad to be by themselves. Because if you go with LaTrisha, who will take care of them?”

“Nobody.” She thought for a moment and tears filled her eyes. “Then they'll be sad.”

I nodded. “And you don't want them to be sad, do you?”

She shook her head. Then suddenly she jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I'm sorry, Doctor H.,” she said. “I'm sorry.”

I hugged her back. “I know you are, sweetie. So, now you have to make me a promise.”

She leaned back and stared into my eyes.

I said, “You have to promise that you won't do anything like that again.”

“I promise,” she whispered.

“And you should go and tell your parents, okay?”

“Okay.” Slowly, she slid off the bed and moved toward her bedroom door. But right before she stepped into the hallway, she returned
and took three of the animals from her bed and placed them in the middle of her sister's bed. Then she left the room.

I sat still for a moment, then pasted a smile on my face so that I could go and hear LaTonya's brave declaration to her parents.

Our conversation had been simple, though I knew that turning LaTonya around wasn't going to be easy. She was a young child who didn't understand the concept of death, yet she now had to be counseled just as anyone who had thoughts of suicide. That meant she would be on my schedule four days a week, added to a calendar that was already bursting at the seams.

The elevator doors parted and I felt like falling to my knees and crawling to our apartment. But I made it standing upright. When I stepped inside, I called out to Jamal, even though the condo was completely dark, completely silent.

I dumped my briefcase by the door, shrugged off my jacket, kicked off my shoes, then grabbed my iPad from my bag. Even though I usually went into our second bedroom, which was our office slash library, and worked until midnight, I wasn't going to do that tonight. My plan was to jump into bed, check a few e-mails, and then hang out with my husband.

But when I walked into our bedroom, the lights were already off, and Jamal was already in bed, snoring softly.

I stood at the door for a few minutes and sighed. For the last few nights, since Chauncey's funeral, this is where I'd found my husband, even though normally he never went to bed before midnight. But from the moment we'd come home from the repast on Tuesday, this was where Jamal seemed to spend all of his time. He was just sleeping and hardly talking.

I walked to my side of the bed, flicked on the nightstand lamp, then turned, to see if the soft light woke him up.

He didn't move.

Gently, I put the iPad on the bed, then strode into my closet. It didn't take me more than a minute to strip, replace my suit with my favorite USC T-shirt, then climb into bed with my husband.

In the past, Jamal would feel my presence and wake up. But not tonight.

I leaned against the headboard and opened my iPad, but I didn't even hit the e-mail icon. Instead, my eyes stayed on my husband.

Jamal had always been so sociable, so active. But now, even when I called him during the day, he was in bed. Trying to sleep away his days and his nights. Of course, this was grief, but grief was a spirit that gripped people and kept them wallowing in sorrow. One of the first lessons in Psych 101: the longer a person stayed depressed, the longer it would take them to come out of that state. It had only been a few days, but I wanted Jamal to get up, get out, and get moving.

Work wasn't the answer; he hadn't even been released to return to the fire station, which honestly was fine with me. I wasn't sure if I ever wanted him to return to work. But I had to find something for him to do. Some way for him to begin to make the climb back to his normal life.

Putting my iPad aside, I rolled over until my body was pressed against his and I kissed his neck. Soft, butterfly kisses that I continued until I felt him stir. When he rolled over and faced me, his eyes were already open.

For a long moment we just lay there on our sides, face-to-face, staring.

Finally, I whispered, “Hi.”

“Hi. You just getting home?”

I nodded. “It was a long day, but I couldn't wait to see you.”

That brought a smile to his face, though he didn't say anything.

“What did you do today?” I asked.

“Not much.”

Although I was sure that I already knew the answer, I asked, “Did you go out?”

“No.”

“Oh . . . I was thinking that maybe you would have gone over to Miriam's. To check on her and the boys.”

“No, they're all right. Mama Cee and Charlie are still here, so they don't need me.”

Of course that wasn't true, but it wouldn't do any good to tell Jamal that. He already knew it. We needed to talk, though I hesitated because I didn't want to be his therapist. I just wanted to be his wife. But right now, I wasn't sure if there was a difference. “Jamal . . .”

He shook his head, already knowing where I was going. “I don't want you to be my psychologist, Emily,” he said, like he always did.

“I promise that's not what I'm doing, but you can't keep your grief inside. You need to talk, just talk. And I promise I won't say anything.”

He hesitated, and after a few seconds, he began, “I can't explain it, but it feels like I'm drowning in grief. It's making me feel crazy.”

“You're not crazy. You're normal.” My words were just instinct. Truly, I had meant to keep quiet like I promised.

He continued, “Besides you, there're only two other people in the world that I have truly loved. My grandmother and Chauncey.” He paused. “And now they're both gone.”

He sounded so sad, and all I wanted to do was hold him. But if I did that, he would stop talking, and he needed to get this out.

After a deep sigh, he said, “I should be getting over this . . .”

“It's only been a little more than a week,” I said. “Trust me, there's no expiration date on grief. But you're going to get through this,” I said, wanting to encourage him. “Your strength is one of the things that I admire about you.”

“You say that all the time.”

“Because it's true.”

“I don't feel that way right now.”

“I know. But you know, one of the things that you can do, one of the things that may help, is if you get up and get out. Do some things you like. Go running on the beach, go hang out with some of the guys. Any of those things will help you take your mind off Chauncey, even for just a little while.”

This time, there was no hesitation. “I don't know if I want my mind to be taken away.” He reached for me and pulled me close. “I don't want to talk about it anymore.”

“All right,” I said, feeling as if we'd made some progress, even though I wanted more.

But for now, I just lay in his arms, glad that he'd opened up a little and praying that tomorrow he'd give me a little bit more.

15

Miriam

M
y telephone hadn't stopped ringing.

First, the call had come from Emily, early this morning as she drove to her office. The next one was from Michellelee, as she sat in the back of the town car that took her to the television station each day. Then Pastor Ford, a few members of Hope Chapel, and even some of Chauncey's firefighter brothers.

So many calls, but really, it was just one conversation. The calls were so similar, I could have recorded my voice and then just pressed Play without any of them noticing.

“Hey, Miriam; I was just calling to check on you. How are you?”

“I'm good.”

“And the boys?”

“They're good, too.”

At this point, everyone sighed as if they were relieved that they now had permission to carry on with their day and their business. Now they wouldn't have to worry about being part of some rescue mission to save me and my sons.

“Well, just know that I'm praying for you,” the calls continued.

“I know that. Thank you.”

“Of course, and you know it will get even better with time.”

Emily had added that she would call me later, Michellelee had said that she was going to stop by after work, and Pastor told me that I could call her at any time if I ever needed anything.

Then everyone hung up. And though they may have felt better, not one of them knew my truth.

People probably would have been upset to know that I'd stopped telling them what I was thinking or how I was feeling. They were all tired of hearing it anyway. Of course, no one ever said that, but I could tell that's how they felt. Their weariness showed in the ways their eyes kind of wandered when they were standing in front of me, or in the pauses I heard on the phone, which let me know they were multitasking and hardly listening.

It was okay, though. I thought about the number of times I'd had to listen to a grieving spouse, or son or daughter. Listening to someone who had immersed himself in sorrow was a heavy burden for everyone who was around. I got that now. So since the funeral, I kept my cares to myself . . . and Jamal.

I tossed the
Essence
that I'd been flipping through aside, then wandered over to the living room window. The sun shone brightly, as if it were proud to be hanging high in the sky on this autumn Friday. I peeked up the street, then turned and looked as far down the street as I could. There was no sign of my sons, though I didn't really expect to see them.

I'd been so grateful when Charlie had gathered the boys and taken them all out bike riding about an hour ago. The boys seemed grateful, too, since they hadn't been out of the house that much. Now, even they were ready to go back to school.

Turning toward the sofa, I stared at the phone, willing it to ring. But then, I wondered, why was I waiting for Jamal to call? Couldn't I call him?

I grabbed the telephone, but when I picked it up, someone was already on the line.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Miriam.”

“Jamal!” I exclaimed. “I was just calling you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to check on you,” I said. “For once.”

“Well, that's why I was calling you. What's going on?”

“Nothing much. Charlie took the boys out and Mama Cee is resting, so I was just sitting here and thinking about you.” I paused. That was not exactly what I meant, so I rephrased, “I mean, I was wondering how you were doing.”

“I knew what you meant, 'cause I've been thinking about you. How're you feeling?”

I sighed as I sat on the sofa and tucked my feet beneath me. “It's been ten days, and I can't believe this, but my heart hurts more now than when I first found out. All I ever do is cry.”

“I know,” he said. “I think it's the shock. It's wearing off and reality is setting in.”

“Not that I expected to be over it. I mean, I'm sure it will take years, but I really want to start feeling better. Little by little, I just want to see some sunshine, you know?”

“I know.”

“Well, everyone says it'll get better.” I shrugged.

“Emily thinks that getting out might help. Maybe you need to get out, too. Maybe we can get out of the house together.”

I swung my legs off the couch. “That would be great. I've been staying close to home 'cause it feels safer here. I never know when I'm going to break down.”

“I just haven't had the energy to go out.”

“Energy isn't my problem. I've been doing so much cooking
and cleaning and anything I could find to keep my mind off Chauncey.”

“Maybe I should've tried that. I've been trying to sleep it away. So, this just proves that Em is right.”

“Of course she is. Your wife is brilliant,” I said, and we laughed together.

“Then good. Let's go out tomorrow. I'm hoping that Emily won't be working and the three of us can do lunch.”

“Okay, I'll check with Mama Cee and Charlie to make sure they'll be able to watch the boys.”

“Cool. How much longer are they going to be here?”

“I don't know, but not much longer. I worry about Mama Cee and her asthma.” I stopped. This was the point where I could tell Jamal about my move to Arizona, though something inside of me wanted to keep that to myself. So I just said, “I love having them here, but I have to make sure that Mama Cee's health is okay.”