Never Say Never (18 page)

“Really?” I said, a bit shocked by that. “The Michael Jackson song?”

“Yup!”

“You know that's hilarious, right? I can't believe Mama Cee let him walk out the house wearing that.”

“She didn't. I found out that he'd bought the hat and kept it hidden when he was home. He didn't break it out until he was far away from Mama Cee.” Jamal laughed. “You know Mama Cee didn't play that.”

“You guys became friends because of a hat? Chauncey never told me that.”

“Yup. I mean, here was this little chubby kid . . . and you know how he walked. Even back then, he had that strut, that kinda pimp stroll that even though he was only nine, made him look like he was grown. I was impressed.”

I laughed, imagining Chauncey walking through the elementary school halls.

“We became friends right then. Bonding over MJ. Because both of us were Michael Jackson connoisseurs.”

“Big fans, huh?”

“Fans?” Jamal sucked his teeth. “Dude, Chauncey and I were the MJ tag team. Chauncey knew all the words, and I had all the dance moves down.”

I had to cover my mouth to keep my laughter inside.

“I'm telling you,” Jamal kept on, “I could do Michael Jackson better than Michael Jackson could do himself.”

“Are you serious?” I looked at him sideways, still giggling.

“Oh, yeah! I could moonwalk. I could spin. I could stop dead on my toes.”

I held up my hands as if I'd heard enough.

“Oh, really? You want me to lay some of this on you?” Jamal didn't wait for me to answer. He put down his pizza, stood up, slid to the center of the room, then did a moonwalk that could have rivaled Michael Jackson.

I clapped and cheered. “I cannot believe you. All these years I've known you and I've never seen you do that. You've been holding out on me.”

“Well, you know,” he said, popping his collar. “I'm just sayin', you better recognize.”

Now I was buckled over with laughter as Jamal pimp-strutted back to the table. I laughed so hard that I cried. The first tears in weeks that hadn't come from sorrow.

“Now, you and Chauncey,” Jamal said, “I remember the day he met you.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “He told me he met this girl at camp who was all over him.”

I stretched my eyes wide open. “Get out of here! He didn't really say that, did he?”

Jamal cracked up. “You should see the look on your face. But yup, that's what he said. No worries, though. I knew he wasn't telling the truth.”

“I can't believe he told you that. When he came up to me, I didn't like him at all.”

“The way he was bragging, I figured it had gone down something like that.”

I laughed. “But it didn't take long for that to change. Chauncey was so cocky, but in a good way. I really liked that about him. Because he wasn't the finest or the fittest, but that didn't matter. He was the kindest, and the gentlest . . .”

“And the most courageous,” Jamal said in a low voice.

His smile was gone; the mood had shifted. “You're thinking about your grandmother.”

He nodded.

I'd heard the story dozens of times, though never from Chauncey. My husband never spoke about when their friendship changed, but I had a feeling that Jamal needed to talk about it, and today, I needed to hear it.

Gently placing my hand over his, I gave him permission to go on.

“We were twelve, Miriam. Just twelve years old.” He shook his head as if he had a hard time believing twenty years had passed. “And we found my grandmother on the living room floor.”

Every time I heard that, my mind imagined the scene. The two of them, Chauncey a little bit chunky, already at, or pretty close to, his adult height of five foot five. And Jamal, the total opposite, taller than the boys his age, which was the reason why he was the star center of their middle school basketball team. I could see the two of them together, talking, laughing, then walking into that apartment.

“Chauncey was the hero that day on so many levels. Because I didn't even want to go to my house. I wanted to go over to his 'cause Mama Cee always had snacks waiting for us. My grandmother couldn't afford those afternoon treats.”

When he paused, I knew he needed help. So I said, “But it was Chauncey's idea 'cause he hadn't seen your grandmother in a while, right?”

Again, Jamal nodded. “I was actually kinda mad at him 'cause the only time I got to eat a Twinkie was at his house. But that's just how he was; he wanted to see my grandmother.” He shook his head. “When I put my key in the door, and we took two steps into that apartment . . .”

Jamal had described this scene to me before: the two of them
standing in the entry, his grandmother in the living room, fallen on her back, her legs sprawled wide.

“I yelled out for my grandmother, but I couldn't move,” Jamal continued the story. “I was so scared that she was dead. But Chauncey went right into action. He just dumped his backpack, dropped to his knees, pressed his ear to her chest, then shouted for me to call nine-one-one. I still didn't move until he started screaming at me to make the call 'cause he couldn't do everything.” He lowered his lids as if the memory was heavy. “I was finally able to get to the phone, and the whole time I watched Chauncey blow air into my grandmother, then pump her chest. He did that over and over, never stopping.

“And all I did was talk to the nine-one-one operator and cry.” Again, he shook his head. “Chauncey saved more than my grandmother's life. He saved me. I don't know what I would've done if she'd died when she went into that diabetic coma. I would've lost the only person I'd loved and the only one who'd loved me.”

I squeezed Jamal's hand.

“We'd always been close, but Chauncey became my brother for real that day. I'm talking about after what he did, I loved him from my heart!” With his fist, he beat his chest. “From then on, I would've done anything for him. That's what you have to know, Miriam, that I would've done anything I could to save Chauncey at that school. Anything. I would've given up my life . . .”

“Don't say that! I know you did everything. And Chauncey wouldn't have wanted you to give up anything for him. He would've said it happened the way it was supposed to, it happened for a reason.”

He twisted his lips, doubting my words. “I can't think of any good reason for Chauncey to die.”

I had to agree with that. “Neither can I, but Chauncey wouldn't want you sitting here wondering why it was him and not you.”

He gave me a long sideways glance.

I said, “I know that's what you're thinking.”

“Are you a mind reader or something?” he asked with half a smile.

“No, I just know you. And I know my husband would've wanted you to forget about the way he died, and just remember the way he lived.”

“You're right about that. Not many men, especially ones in their thirties, can truly be called great men.”

I nodded. “For me, the biggest things about Chauncey were the little things. The things he did that meant so much. Like how he had my coffee on my nightstand every morning. Or how he filled my car with gas every Sunday. Or how he literally tucked me into bed every night. Just little things that made a big difference. Those little things that let me know how much he loved me.”

“He loved you for sure. That man had a smile on his face every day from the moment he met you.”

I sighed. “I knew my life would always be okay as long as Chauncey was with me.” I stopped for a moment. “That's what I worry about the most with Junior, Mikey, and Stevie. Will their lives be okay without their father? I mean, I'm a single mom now, raising three boys. I worry about what it's going to be like for them.”

Jamal laid his hand on top of mine. “I know it's going to be tough, but I promise you, Miriam, I'll be here for you and for them.”

I lowered my head because it felt like the sad tears were trying to make a comeback, though I fought hard to keep them away.

Jamal said, “You won't be going through this alone.”

So many people had said that over the last week and a half, but Jamal was the only one I believed. “Thank you.”

My tears betrayed me, and I didn't even realize that until Jamal softly caressed my cheek with his thumb. Then he took my hands and pulled me up. When he wrapped his arms around me, I sobbed. I missed my husband so much, but I was thankful right now for the
strength of Jamal. The strength of his arms, the strength of his embrace, the strength of his presence.

“Thank you,” I said again, as I started to pull back.

But then.

I don't know what happened.

I tried to step away, but Jamal wouldn't let me go. Or maybe it was that I wouldn't free him.

We stared at each other and stayed that way, as if we couldn't break apart.

That was when his lips began a slow descent toward mine. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe I was the one reaching up to him.

But in a moment, we were kissing. A kiss that did not stop. A forever kiss that I didn't want to end. At first it was just flesh against flesh, but then he opened the door, parted his lips, and I invited myself in. Our tongues met, and danced a slow grind.

We stopped, but it was only because we needed to breathe. Jamal nuzzled his face inside my neck and I leaned back, receiving him, reveling in him.

“Jamal!” I breathed his name. “Jamal.”

Our lips connected once again as we backed away from the kitchen toward the living room. I tried to push him away, but he wouldn't budge. Or maybe it was that I was pulling him. I don't know.

My eyes were closed as we entered the living room, and seconds later we were on the sofa, the weight of his body all over me. I welcomed him in every way, needing to be close to a man like this once again.

In one swoop, my dress was over my head. Next, my bra and panties were gone. Jamal broke away for just a short time, and in seconds he thrilled me with his chiseled fineness. I knew he worked out
just about every day, but I had never seen a man like this—at least, never this close, never this personal.

His perfection made me remember my own imperfections, and right away I wanted to cover up. Here we were in the middle of the day, in the middle of the living room, with the bright light of noon shining through. There was no darkness to hide me.

But the width of my hips, the crinkles on my thighs, the double fold on my stomach didn't seem to matter to Jamal when he laid his body back on top of mine and our lips met once again.

I moaned, savoring the time that moved so slow, yet we traveled at the speed of sound. We spent no time getting to know each other, and I didn't care. I didn't want any of that. I just wanted a little bit of my sorrow to be taken away.

Was it a second, was it a minute, was it an hour . . . I don't know. But the angels at the gate of ecstasy welcomed me in.

I shuddered.

And shuddered.

Then still, I shuddered.

Slowly, my eyes fluttered open, but Jamal stayed right on top of me. I understood. He hadn't left me with enough energy to breathe, so he probably couldn't move.

All I wanted to do was freeze this moment, stay here forever so that I could remember. But I also wanted to stay here forever because I was afraid of what would happen next. What were we going to do? How were we going to look at each other?

Jamal shifted first, slowly rising off of me, and when he looked down, our eyes locked. Now it was our stares that were frozen in time, and I wondered if my eyes were filled with the same shock that stared back at me.

We said nothing as he stood, grabbed his pants from the floor, and stepped into them. While he dressed, I turned away and slipped
into my sundress as quickly as I could, this time sans underwear. I had to move quickly before Jamal saw my body and remembered that I wasn't Emily.

Oh God!

Emily!

My best friend!

Emily!

“Miriam.”

I squeezed my eyes together, then slowly turned until I faced him. I opened my mouth to speak, but Jamal spoke at the same time.

“I don't know what to say,” we said together.

We couldn't help but smile at that.

Jamal held up his hands. “I usually let ladies go first, but I have to say this.” He took a short step toward me. “I'm so sorry, Miriam. I'm . . .”

I reached out, needing to stop him. “No, Jamal, no! Don't be. I'm not sorry . . .” I paused, hating myself for speaking that truth.

He blinked, then squinted as if he was trying to get my words to compute.

“I mean, I'm sorry, but . . . but . . . it just happened. It wasn't like we planned this.”

“Right, right.”

“And we weren't trying to hurt anyone.”

“No, no.”

“So, I don't think there's anything to really be sorry about. We were just two friends who needed each other in that moment.”

He nodded, but said nothing. And I just stood there. What was I supposed to do now?

“So,” I said. I had to swallow before I could continue. “I guess I should get the keys and take you home.”

I felt like I was frying under the glare of his stare, but then,
finally, he shook his head. “I don't want to go.” He asked, “What time is it?”

Taking a quick glance at the clock on the mantel, I said, “It's just a little before two.”

He nodded and I watched his Adam's apple rise, then fall. “What time will Mama Cee and Charlie be back with the boys?”

I kept my eyes on his. “They won't be back until tonight. Probably late.”

He nodded again, then reached his hand toward me. I looked at his arm hanging in the air before I slid my hand into his. He pulled me closer and held my hand tighter.

Then, without another word, he led me into my bedroom.