Never Say Never (6 page)

“I have been all my life and the carpet matches the curtains.”

“Ewww!” Michellelee said. “You're nasty.” But then she grinned. “Well, go for it, girl.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to start anything . . .”

“Oh, really? You don't?” Michellelee took two steps back, then looked me up and down the way she'd just done Jamal. “That must be why you just painted on that dress, 'cause you don't wanna start anything.” She shook her head. “But I ain't mad at you. Go get yours.”

Michellelee was right. I was wearing a Tadashi design that hugged every part of my six two frame. I didn't have the hips that Michellelee swayed, or the behind that Miriam rocked. But I had boobs. And my girls were on full display in this dress with the V neckline that almost went all the way down to my navel.

“Okay,” I told Michellelee. “I'm going for him.”

When we stepped outside, the car horn blared and we knew it was Miriam. She was standing outside of Chauncey's twelve-year-old Jeep when we rushed up.

“Come on,” she said, “we've got to get going. You get in the middle.” She directed Michellelee to the backseat, where Jamal was sitting.

Before Michellelee could move, I slid in. “I'll sit in the middle.” I made sure not to look at Miriam because I knew she was giving me one of those looks that could take my life away.

But there was nothing that Miriam could do. By the time she slipped into the front seat next to Chauncey, I was secure in my place. By the time we got to the Hollywood Palladium, Jamal and I were chatting as the friends that I hoped we'd be.

“So you agree with me about Bill Clinton,” I said as Jamal helped me out of the Jeep. We'd been talking about politics all the way over.

“Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong. He was my man before; I even did some work on his campaign. But with what's going down now . . .”

I grinned and turned to Michellelee with triumph all over my face. She just rolled her eyes. She'd been right. Jamal wasn't her type. He had political sense.

But the deal was sealed when we walked into the Palladium and Jamal helped me into my seat.

“By the way, how tall are you?” he asked. “About six two?”

“Good guess.”

He nodded. “So, do you model?”

I sighed, wishing I had a hundred dollars for each time I'd been asked that question. Why in the world did people think every tall white girl was a model? It had to be the same disease that made everyone think every tall black guy was a basketball player. And since I was almost eye to eye with him in my three-inch heels, I was sure he'd had that question a lot in his life. So I decided to just give him a pass and answer.

“No modeling, but my height does come in handy. I play basketball.”

He frowned. “With USC?” When I nodded, he held up his hand. “Wait a minute. You're
that
Emily Harrington?” he asked, sounding amazed. I had been a highly recruited player from high school, so I wasn't surprised that Jamal knew me—at least by name.

“Yes, how many Emily Harringtons did you think there were?”

We laughed together.

“Aren't you from Mississippi?” he asked.

“I am. And you just got back from there, right?”

The smile that he'd been wearing faded quickly and I was so sorry I'd asked.

“Yeah. I had to take care of some family business.”

Wanting to get back to the happy place where we'd been, I changed subjects. “Do you play any sports?” I asked, getting dangerously close to that stereotypical question.

But it worked because his grin came back quickly. “Yup. Basketball.”

“You're kidding.”

“I played at Crenshaw.”

“Crenshaw High? They have an amazing reputation.”

“Yup.”

“So,” I began, “you didn't want to play at the college level?”

His smile went away again. “I was accepted to UCLA, but just a couple of days after graduation, I had to leave for Mississippi. You know, for my grandmother.”

Well, since this topic wasn't going to go away, I decided to use it. “Where does . . . did your grandmother live in Mississippi?”

“In Natchez. Do you know where that is?”

I nodded. “Natchez is about ninety miles south of Jackson.”

“Which is where you're from,” he said, more like a statement, but I answered like he was asking a question.

“Correct.”

Though there were others at the table and a whole program that went on from the stage, Jamal and I kept talking, keeping our conversation to a whisper. I found out that he'd just enrolled at West Los Angeles College, the same college where Chauncey was, as a second-year student studying to become an EMT. He told me that their lifelong dream was to become firemen.

We talked about school, sports, a little bit about our pasts and our hopes for our future. By the time Jamal helped me out of my chair when the program was over and we walked back to the car, we were officially friends, the first accomplishment of my mission.
When we got back to the townhouse, Jamal walked me and Michellelee to the door while Miriam stayed in the car with Chauncey.

At the door, Michellelee said, “Good night, Jamal,” without even making eye contact with him as she spoke.

But once she stepped inside, I lingered outside with him. “It was great meeting you.”

“You, too. You're kinda refreshing.”

I didn't know what he meant by that; it sounded positive, but I was certainly aiming for something more than refreshing. “So . . . I hope to see you soon.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

Definitely! That was a great word. “Okay, I'll see you later.”

He stood right there until I stepped inside; I leaned against the closed door, but I wasn't able to stay in that moment for long.

“You're really feeling him!”

My eyes snapped open. I'd forgotten that I wasn't alone. “Yes.” I nodded at Michellelee. “I really like him,” I said as I fell onto the sofa. “Not only is he hot, he's smart, and cool, and interesting, and . . .”

She held up her hand like she didn't want to hear my litany, which was too bad because I could've gone on and on and on.

She said, “I get it, and he seems like he's into you, too.”

“He's going to call me.” Then I sat up straight. “Oh no. I didn't give him my number.”

Michellelee laughed. “Don't worry. He knows where to find you.”

I settled back down. She was right. He was Chauncey's best friend. He was probably asking for my number right now . . .

I blinked three
times and came back to the present, though the memories stayed with me. When I closed the door that night, little did I know that Jamal and I were a long road and many years away from our bliss.

But we'd found each other, felt each other, and I'd always been convinced that anything that God put together could never be taken apart. So once we married, though I was aware of the danger of Jamal's career, it had never been a concern. We would last forever.

Of course, I knew no one lived forever. I just never thought death would separate us. Instead, I preferred to think that Jesus would come back and lift me and Jamal up at the same time.

Today, though, had proved that I couldn't hide from reality.

That's why I didn't want to take my eyes off Jamal. Not that I had ever taken my eyes off him. From the first time I saw him, I knew that, physically, he had all the gifts. He looked just like that actor that my girls loved so much. Idris Elba. Yes, Jamal was Idris Elba before there was even an Idris Elba. He was sexy and soulful. In the way he walked, in the way he talked.

But right now, I wasn't thinking about the brightness of his eyes or the fullness of his lips. I didn't care about the sharp angle of his jaw or the cleft in his chin. Tonight, I just celebrated the rise and fall of his chest.

Jamal parted his lips and released a small moan, though he stayed asleep. Then, as if he knew I was there, he lifted his arm and I lay back against his chest, now feeling the rhythm of his heart.

I was exhausted, but I refused to close my eyes. I wanted to dance to the beat of Jamal's heart. I wanted to twirl to every one of his inhales and swirl to each of his exhales. I wanted to celebrate because I now realized the preciousness of this gift in my bed. Lying with her husband was something that Miriam would never do again.

The thought of that made new tears flow. I had to save Miriam from as much pain as I could. I had to make sure that she would get through, and know that every day, in every way, Jamal and I would be there for her.

Always!

5

Miriam

I
couldn't believe my eyes had opened.

My wish, even in my unconsciousness, was that I would sleep straight through to eternity, but when I twisted my head to the side, I saw the reasons why I'd awakened.

My boys were next to me, a tangled mess of limbs that made me wonder how in the world they had slept. My lips tried to curl into a smile, but then a jolt sprang from my heart, reminding my lips that there was nothing to smile about.

I pushed myself up, then wobbled a bit as I stood. My body was drowning in a sea of exhaustion, though I couldn't figure out why. I hadn't done a thing but cry. I guess grief made one weary.

My cell phone chirped and I grabbed it from the nightstand. The message icon indicated that I had twelve messages, which surprised me. I hadn't heard the alerts before.

I clicked on the icon, but only read the last message:

Our plane lands at noon. I've rented a car. Mama Cee said to tell you she loves you and the boys, and I do, too.

Again, my lips tried to smile, but couldn't. Still, I felt relief as I read the text from my brother-in-law, Charlie, once again.

I tucked my phone into the pocket of my sweatpants, not bothering to check the other messages. I never received many—just Emily, Michellelee . . . and Chauncey called me on the regular. But my voice mail was probably filled now with condolences and I just wasn't up to hearing everyone else's sadness.

I tiptoed across the room, though I didn't need to. My children could sleep through an earthquake. But still I treaded softly, mostly out of habit. It was my way of not disturbing Chauncey on those days when he needed extra rest.

I never wanted to wake him, then. I would pay a billion dollars to wake him now.

Closing the door behind me, I stood in the hall wondering what I was supposed to do next. What did a woman do on her first day without her husband? Was I supposed to walk differently? Talk differently? What was I supposed to eat? What was I supposed to drink? What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to think?

The ringing telephone stopped me from just standing there, and when I pulled out my cell, my lips tried to smile once again.

“Hey, Miriam,” Emily said the moment I answered. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I kinda slept off and on, but I just got up.”

“I didn't want to call too early, but I couldn't wait any longer. I had to check on you and the boys.”

I took a couple of steps away from the bedroom. “They're still asleep.” I didn't add that I wanted them to sleep for days so they wouldn't have to deal with this reality. Or maybe it was that I didn't want to deal with their reality.

Last night, I didn't think it was possible to hurt more, but with each tear that my sons shed, another piece of my heart was torn away. All I wanted to do was kiss my sons and make them feel better. But while kisses healed boo-boos, they did nothing for broken
hearts.

“So, how are you, honey?”

Surely that was a rhetorical question. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe my best friend wanted to know that I wanted to die right now. Maybe she wanted to know that if I didn't have children, I would already have taken a Costco-size bottle of sleeping pills and joined Chauncey in paradise.

Then Emily quickly spoke, as if she read my mind through the phone. “We're on our way, Miriam. We were just waiting for you to get up.”

“No, you don't have to come over,” I said before I added the lie, “I'm fine, and I know you guys have things to do.”

“The only thing we have to do is be there and do what we've always done for one another.”

I glanced at the clock and it was barely seven. They had left only a few hours ago, but there was no talking Emily out of her plan. Once she made a decision, she never changed it.

“We'll see you in a little while,” she said. “Love you.”

“Mean it,” I said, ending the call the way we always did. I hung up and breathed, relieved.

The truth was, I wanted Emily and Jamal there. I needed them to help me fill in the blanks until Mama Cee and Charlie arrived.

I tiptoed back into the bedroom. All I wanted to do was crawl into the bed and pull the covers over my and my children's heads. But I had to be the grown-up here.