Never Say Never (12 page)

Even though I tried not to, I sobbed. “I can't say good-bye to him, Jamal.”

“I know,” he said, as we sat together. “I know.”

“Good-bye, I don't think I can say it.” I couldn't stop shaking my head. “Good-bye is final.”

He nodded slowly and squeezed my hands as if he understood. “I know this may sound a bit crazy”—he lowered his eyes—“but I don't think we're really saying good-bye.” A pause. “Because I can feel him.” Now he looked at me. “It's crazy, I know, but I can feel Chauncey. Like he's still here.”

Before he even finished talking, I was trembling. “Oh my God!” I shouted, startling Jamal. “I know exactly what you're saying because I feel Chauncey, too.”

“No, I mean, I really feel him, Miriam. Yesterday, when I was driving over here, I felt like he was right there, riding shotgun.”

“I'm telling you, that's exactly how I feel. On Friday, when you took the boys to lunch, that happened to me. Right here in the living room. And then, over the weekend, I've felt him everywhere. Sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes in the bedroom. And I can hear him, too. I can hear him saying . . .”

We spoke together, “Everything's going to be all right.”

Silence followed our words and we stared at each other.

“Do you think,” I began in a whisper, “do you think that Chauncey is really here?” I let my eyes wander around the living room.

Jamal nodded. “I can't support it scripturally, but I know what's in my heart. Somehow, he's here, and that's why we won't really be saying good-bye.”

Fresh tears came to my eyes, but not because I was sad. I was so grateful to have someone taking this journey with me. It made sense that Jamal understood. He loved Chauncey the way I had. We didn't have a blood connection, we had a deeper connection, on a soul level. Chauncey was my soulmate. Chauncey was Jamal's soul brother. And we were the only two people on earth who loved him that way.

Realizing that made me reach for Jamal and wrap my arms around him. When he held me back, I closed my eyes. And he must've closed his, too, because he should've seen Charlie before we heard his cough.

It was more of a clearing of his throat, but it was enough to make Jamal and me jump back and away from each other. We'd been sitting together in the center of the sofa, but now we were on opposite ends.

“Uh,” Charlie said when I looked up.

I felt like a teenager who'd been caught.

“Uh,” Charlie said again. It wasn't much of a word, but at least he was saying something, because Jamal and I were mute.

Then Jamal sprang up from the sofa. “I'm going to get out of here.” He grabbed his jacket. “Is there anything you need before I leave?”

“Nah, big bro,” Charlie said, calling Jamal by the name he'd called him since childhood. “We're good. And you've been here all day, so just go on home.”

Jamal nodded and barely looked at me when he said good night. Still sitting on the sofa, I watched Charlie walk Jamal to the door.

“Tell Emily I said hello,” Charlie said, a bit loudly.

When my brother-in-law came back into the living room, he asked, “Are you all right?”

“I'm good.” I nodded. “Finally, I think I'm really good.”

Charlie peered at me as if he was waiting for more, but I didn't have another word or ounce of energy to give to him. All I did was give him a good-night hug and then go into my bedroom. It didn't take me long to lie down and close my eyes. And for the first time since I lost my husband, I slept straight through to morning.

But now that I was awake, neither the comfort of Jamal's words nor the comfort of his arms around me last night had followed me into this morning. All I felt now was dread.

I peeked up at the clock. Even though it was just after six, there was no time to wallow in grief. I had to get myself and the boys ready for our ten o'clock good-bye.

I inched over to the edge of the bed, thinking the next time I laid my head down, Chauncey would really be gone forever. Reaching across the bed, I did what I'd been doing every day—I grabbed Chauncey's pillow, held it to my chest, and inhaled, imagining that I could smell him. I squeezed, imagining that I could feel his strength.
Then, I spoke to the pillow and imagined he could hear the words of love I had for him.

After a moment, I set Chauncey's pillow back on his side of the bed and then slipped into my bathrobe before stepping out of my room.

The aroma of brewing coffee embraced me even though the house was still just-a-bit-after-dawn quiet. I stopped in the kitchen, poured myself a cup, then peeked into the backyard before I pushed the sliding door open and stepped outside.

I rested my cup on the patio table before I wrapped my arms around my mother-in-law. “Good morning.”

“Mornin' baby.” As I sat next to her, she asked, “Did you rest well?”

I nodded as I sipped. “It was my best night so far, but now that it's morning, now that it's today . . .”

“You're gonna make it, baby. We all are.” She patted the worn leather cover of the Bible on the table in front of her. “That's one of the promises of God. He promises to turn our mourning into dancing.”

I took another sip, sure that I would never dance again.

“Yes,” Chauncey's mother continued, “the Lord really does feel our pain and He's shedding a tear or two for us.”

My mother-in-law gave me a sideways glance. I knew what she was thinking. Usually when she got to doing her little preaching, I was her Amen corner. Whenever she sang about how good God had been to her, I was her background singer, adding my praises, too.

But even though God had brought me so far, it felt like it had all been for nothing. He'd taken away the greatest treasure that He'd ever given to me. So, what was the point of all the other good things?

My mother-in-law opened her mouth in a perfectly shaped O, but before she could speak, Charlie slid open the patio door.

“You finished reading your Bible, Mama Cee?” he asked.

It took her a moment to unlock her eyes from me, but she nodded as she faced her son. “Been finished for a while now. Just sitting here, talkin' about how in the midst, God is still good.”

Charlie paused for a moment, as if he was waiting for me. When I said nothing, he piped in with “Amen.”

I guessed he was going to play my position and I almost smiled.

Charlie slipped into the chair on the other side of me and then asked his mother, “Did you talk to Miriam yet?”

My eyes moved back and forth between them. “About what?”

To Charlie, Mama Cee said, “I haven't had the chance.” To me, she said, “Charlie suggested something last night and I don't know why I didn't think of it.” She rested her hand over mine. “We want you and the boys to come live with us.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said from the other side, making me feel as if I was surrounded by this idea. “It's going to be a lot with the boys, and we can help.”

I shook my head. “Arizona? I don't know. It's hard for me to imagine my life past tomorrow.”

“I know,” Mama Cee said softly, in that voice that always made me want to lay my head on her chest. “But we're your family and I want you close so that I can take care of you the way my son would want.”

In the last week, I'd had lots of reasons to cry, and my mother-in-law had just added another one. She'd given me lots of these tear-jerking, heartwarming moments over the years.

But I just couldn't cry anymore, so I sighed deeply. “Can I think about this?”

“Of course. We just wanted you to know this is an option.”

“A good option,” Charlie added.

Mama Cee said, “An option we want to happen.”

Reaching across the table, I took my mother-in-law's hand and then my brother-in-law's, too. “I'm so grateful for you.”

“So, you'll really think about it?” my mother-in-law asked.

“Definitely; there's a lot to consider, though. Especially how it will be for the boys.”

“The Lord will lead you.” She patted my hand, and turned her gaze back to the rising sun.

We sat in the silence of the budding morning, and finally Charlie said, “You want me to get the boys up?”

“No,” I said softly, “I'll do that.”

This was it. It was time. My legs were as heavy as my heart when I pushed my chair back. I took small steps, as if somehow slowing down could stop the inevitable.

As I stepped into the house, the doorbell rang and I released a deep breath. Today was going to be hard, but now that I heard that bell, I could do it. I rushed to the door, then fumbled with the locks, not releasing them fast enough. I was already smiling when I swung the door open, but then my smile faded right away.

“Oh.”

“Oh? That must be Swahili for ‘I'm so glad to see my best friend.' ” Michellelee dumped the garment bag she was carrying onto the settee by the door, then hugged me. I still had the door open and I peeked outside, searching for another car. But only Michellelee's Mercedes and Charlie's rental car were in front of my house.

“Who were you expecting?” Michellelee asked.

I shut the door. “No one in particular. I mean, everyone has been stopping by. Anyway, Mama Cee made some coffee. Want a cup?”

“Definitely. And then”—she hooked her arm through mine—“I'm here to help you with whatever you need.”

“Thanks, but there's something I've gotta tell you.”

“What?”

I opened my mouth to tell Michellelee about Mama Cee, Charlie, and Arizona. But then I took one last glance at the front door and in an instant decided to keep that news to myself.

At least for now.

“What do you have to tell me?” Michellelee asked.

“Only that I love you.”

“Awww . . . mean it,” she said as she gathered me into a hug.

10

Emily

S
team still filled the shower, even though it had been at least a minute since I'd stepped out. I wiped the mirror, making a small circle so that I could see my reflection.

I'd hoped that fifteen minutes under all of that steam would have been refreshing, but exhaustion was still written all over my face.

Talk about difficult times. I'd had five twelve-hour workdays in a row, each filled with nothing but sorrow. I'd even missed church yesterday because there were so many survivors to see. The countless siblings and classmates and friends left behind. There wasn't any kind of training that taught me how to keep my emotions in check under these circumstances. It was impossible, and so often, I just lost it.

I wrapped myself inside the oversized towel and wished that today wasn't today. Because if it had been a different day, I would've crawled back into bed and slept until my bones told me it was okay to rise. But today was the day and as exhausted as I was, I had to be strong for two people I loved so much: Miriam and Jamal.

When I opened the bathroom door, the sun was just beginning to make its debut, so the light in the room was dim. But I could see my husband clearly, sitting on the edge of our bed, wearing nothing
but a pair of white briefs, a shocking and beautiful contrast to his skin. His head was down, his eyes were closed, and the tips of his fingers were pressed together, forming a steeple. He was a gorgeous sight: the perfection of his calves, his muscular thighs, his biceps that bulged.

But what was most attractive to me was seeing my husband in prayer. I wanted to join him, but I didn't need to be next to him to do that. Even standing this far across the bedroom, I could hear his silent plea to God, I could feel his words. That's just how we were—connected. It had always been that way. I knew it first, but it didn't take long for Jamal to get the same clarity that I had about us . . .

April 18, 2001

I'd kind of
coasted through the undergraduate program at USC, but this graduate program at UCLA was much more serious. I'd made it through the first semester with a decent enough 3.4 GPA. But I wanted to go for the gusto to finish my first year.

That's why I'd been up until just a little before dawn studying. Not that my professor would care that I was exhausted. Professor Gaylord, like the other teachers in the Psych department, was very strict and serious. The moment the clock struck nine, he was locking that door.

Glancing at the clock once again, I saw I would make it, if I got going now. I gathered my leather backpack and dashed out of the tiny apartment my parents had rented for me right across from the campus. But the moment I stepped outside, my cell phone rang.

Cell phones were really cool, but calls always came through at the most inopportune times. I started not to answer but curiosity grabbed ahold of me. I had to make it to class on time, but certainly I could talk and run at the same time.

“Hello,” I said, breaking into a trot.

“Emily?”