Never Say Never (23 page)

June 2001

I couldn't stop
laughing at Miriam and Chauncey as they settled into their first-class seats across the aisle from us.

“I can't believe this!” Miriam said, rocking back and forth.

“Hold on, baby!” Chauncey said. He took a magazine from the seat pocket and fanned his wife. “Don't faint,” he kidded her. Then he stopped. “Wait, maybe you should. Go ahead, faint, and I'll give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

I shook my head and pushed my seat back, ready to relax.

“We did it,” Jamal whispered in my ear.

I nodded. “At least the first part. Let's see how the rest of the weekend goes.”

“It's going to be fabulous,” he said. “ 'Cause we make a great team.”

All I did was smile, because I wasn't going anywhere near that road. I'd learned my lesson—we'd always be a great
brother and sister
team.

For five hours, we ate and drank and chatted like the old friends we were. We were the only four flying into Hawaii today. Jamal had planned it so that Miriam and Chauncey would have a night to themselves before the others arrived, and he and I could finalize all preparations.

Midway through the flight, I changed seats with Chauncey and
right away my best friend hugged me. “I love you so much, Em, for doing this for us.”

“This is just what we do. You and me. Blue and White. And wait until Red joins us tomorrow!”

“So, you and Jamal really did all of this together?”

I nodded.

She glanced across the aisle at Chauncey and Jamal, and I prayed that she wasn't going to give me that lecture she'd given me three years ago about how black and white didn't mix.

Just as I was getting ready to open my mouth and tell her to save it, she whispered, “I'm sorry for the way I reacted about you and Jamal.”

It took me a couple of moments to digest her words. “You waited three years to tell me this?”

“Well, when you never mentioned it again, neither did I because I knew that I'd hurt your feelings and I didn't want to do that again. But now that I've had time—”

“Three years,” I repeated, wanting to make sure my friend realized how ridiculous this was.

“Okay, you and Jamal do make a cute couple. I've finally seen the light.”

With my hands, I waved away her words. “Take that light right back to the dark. I'm not interested in him like that anymore.”

“Really?” she said as if she didn't believe me. “But you look so good together.”

“Trust me, nothing's there. Plus, he has a girlfriend.”

Miriam frowned. “No, he doesn't.”

“Yes. He does.”

“Uh . . . he's Chauncey's best friend and if he was with someone I would know.”

“Well, obviously he's been keeping something from you.” I
shrugged. “And anyway, it doesn't matter. I got over Jamal a long time ago.”

“Okay,” Miriam said, leaning back in her chair. “I guess I just want you to have what Chauncey and I have.” She sighed. “Em, I love that man so much. And right now, I'm gonna take a nap so that when we land and get to that hotel room, me and Chauncey—”

I held up my hand. “I love you, White, but please.”

We laughed and then both of us closed our eyes. I didn't say another word until Jamal gently shook my shoulder, letting me know that we had arrived.

We were the first to get off and, with our carry-on luggage, went straight to the curb outside, where two members of the staff of the Grand Wailea Hotel met us.

“Aloha,” the woman said as she placed white-orchid-and rose leis over each of us. “Welcome to Hawaii.”

“Oh, it's on now,” Chauncey said. “I'm in Hawaii and I just got laid?” He wrapped his arm around Miriam's waist. “Baby, this won't be the last time I'm laid today, will it?”

Miriam giggled and I shook my head. I could imagine Miriam and Chauncey fifty years from now acting just like this.

The hotel driver opened the doors of the limousine and Chauncey helped Miriam in before Jamal held my hand as I slid inside. Through the tinted windows, I could already see the beauty of this Hawaiian island as we sped by the rising slopes of Haleakala in the distance. Even with all of my travels, nothing had prepared me for the beauty of this tropical wonderland, filled with lush foliage of such vividness that the plants and flowers didn't even look real.

Within minutes, we were at the hotel, and I knew right away why many referred to it as the Hawaiian Disneyland. This Polynesian hideaway was expansive and its elegance took my breath away, from
the marble statues in the lobby to the tropical flowers that caressed every single one of my senses. But the best feature was the open side of the hotel, which offered a view of the magnificence of the Pacific Ocean.

As Jamal and Chauncey checked us in, Miriam and I sipped the Hawaiian punch that we'd been given and stood in awe of the sight before us.

“This is so beautiful,” she said. “Who chose this place? You or Jamal?”

“Me.”

“How did you know about it? From your parents?”

“Nope! When I read that it was a Waldorf Astoria Resort, I figured . . .” I shrugged, grinned, and then Miriam and I laughed out loud.

“What's so funny?” Chauncey and Jamal asked together as they came over to us with the keys.

Miriam and I looked at each other again and giggled.

Chauncey and Jamal just shrugged.

Jamal said, “Well anyway, Chauncey and Miriam are on the fourth floor in the bridal suite.”

Miriam clapped her hands. “This is freakin' amazing!”

“And here's your key,” he said, handing me the card. “Everyone else is on the third floor. So, let's escort them to their room.”

I nodded, but then Chauncey cut in.

“Nah, nah,” he said. “We don't need no help, bro. You told me that we were getting here before everyone else so that my bride and I could have some time alone. And that's what I want, to be alone with this beautiful woman.”

Chauncey laughed, and I sighed. Every time he spoke about Miriam, his words belonged in a Hallmark card.

We rolled our bags onto the elevator and for a minute,
Chauncey and Miriam forgot that they weren't alone. When the elevator stopped on the third floor, Jamal joked, “You sure y'all don't need no help?”

Chauncey broke his embrace with Miriam for just a moment. “Do I
look
like I need any help?” We all laughed. Chauncey added, “And don't be calling my room for nothing. We'll be fine, they got room service here, right?”

Jamal told him yes, right as the elevator doors closed. I would have said good-bye, but neither one of them would have heard me. I stood watching the elevator door close on my friends. This was not the way I'd imagined our first day on the island. I'd actually thought that the four of us would hang out, walk around the resort, go to dinner, and just have fun. But that was my idea of a great night, not Miriam and Chauncey's.

It wasn't until I heard Jamal clear his throat behind me that I turned around.

“Well,” I said, grabbing the handle of my suitcase, “I guess I'll go to my room . . .”

“If you're up to it, there's something I'd like to do.”

“What?” I asked, squinting a little.

He grinned. “It's a surprise. Just go to your room, get settled, and then change. Did you bring any workout clothes?”

“Yes, I brought a bathing suit. That's about all the working out I plan on doing.”

He laughed. “I'm sure you got a pair of shorts in that bag, and a T-shirt and some sneakers?”

“Please don't tell me we're going to do push-ups on the beach.”

“That's a thought, but no. Just get changed.”

“Okay.” I headed to my room, with a promise to call Jamal in about ten minutes. But it took me longer than that. The view from the room distracted me. What I'd seen from the lobby was nothing compared
to the ocean vista outside my window. What I really wanted to do was sit in here and wait for the sun to set on the water.

But I was curious about Jamal's plans. So I changed into a pair of navy shorts and a white T-shirt, then called him. Within a couple of minutes, he was standing in front of my room, in his own workout gear.

My eyes wandered to his bare legs and his well-defined calves.

“So what are we going to do?” I asked, needing something else to focus on besides the parts of his body that were uncovered.

“Be patient,” he said, taking my hand.

All the way down in the elevator, I tried to get Jamal to tell me where we were going. He didn't give up his secret, though. Not when we walked through the lobby, or when we trudged by the pool. But then we walked on the hard part of the sand for just a few feet, and I saw it.

“You're kidding!” I exclaimed. “A basketball court? On the beach?”

“Yup.” He jogged onto the moveable hardwood floor and grabbed the basketball that was beneath the hoop. Then he bounce-passed it to me.

“I can't believe this. How cool.” I held the ball between both my hands. “I wonder why no one is out here playing?”

“You have to reserve it, and I reserved this weeks ago. For you and me. So what do you say? You up for a game?”

I hadn't held a ball in my hands like this since I graduated a year and a half ago. But when my fingertips caressed that rubber, and I massaged the familiar stitching, it all came back to me.

“You sure you want some of this?” I asked, reverting to some of the trash talk that I'd learned during my four years on the USC team. I threw the ball, sending it flying into his chest.

He caught it with two hands. “Ask me that question again.”

The heat rose beneath my skin, but I did my best to pretend that I missed that double entendre. “So, what's the game?”

“Let's just warm up. Take a few shots, and then see if you're really up to playing me.”

“Pass me the ball,” I said.

“As soon as you miss, I get it.” He tossed me the ball.

“Who says I'm going to miss?” Then, from right where I stood about ten feet from the basket, I took that jump shot, which had been my signature in school. And even though it had been a year and a half, it was nothing but net.

“Dang, girl.”

Jamal bounced the ball back to me and I took another shot. Same result. Then another shot and another score.

“Okay,” Jamal said when he caught the ball under the hoop. “Move to the other side 'cause I can't believe you can shoot like that from everywhere.”

I laughed. “Have you forgotten?” I grabbed the ball from him. “I'm Emily Harrington.”

Swoosh!

“All-American.”

Swoosh!

“And if I wasn't trying to be a doctor, I would've been a top pick in the WNBA.”

Swoosh!

Jamal laughed. “Okay, I get it. So, am I going to get a turn?”

I passed him the ball. “Yes, but only because my parents raised me to share.”

He dribbled the ball a few times, then crisscrossed it between his legs. “So, do you like what you see?” he asked, then took his shot. Like mine, it was all net. When I stared at him, he added, “I'm talking about the hotel. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” I said, then told him about the view from my window. “I almost called and canceled on you. I wanted to stand there and watch the sun set.”

“We're gonna get a pretty cool view of that from right here,” he said as he moved to post up again.

This time, I planned to play defense. He bounced the ball twice, then faked to his right, moved to his left, and made the easy layup. I caught the ball and passed it back to him.

“Good point.”

“Thanks.” Then he added, “If you really like it here, you should think about coming back.” He dribbled the ball four times, and then said, “With Clarkson.”

“Clarkson?”

As soon as he said Clarkson's name, he dodged around me and scored. It was easy enough. His words had left me flat-footed.

“Yeah, Clarkson,” he said, bringing the ball back into play. “I'm surprised you didn't bring him with you. I mean, you guys seem like you're really close.”

There wasn't any point in keeping that facade up. We were friends now, and one day the truth would come out anyway. “We're just family friends,” I said, telling the truth and reaching for the ball. “Our parents are best friends who had hopes for a merger among their children.”

Jamal laughed. “Oh, okay.”

I dribbled the ball as I said, “So, what about your girlfriend?” This time, he was the one caught by surprise, and with just three long strides, I dipped around him for my own easy layup.

“Girlfriend?”

I nodded. “You never talk about her.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend.”

His forehead creased with wrinkles.

“One Saturday while you were with me at Starbucks, you got a call.”

I stopped and he said, “And?”

Really? Was he really going to act like he didn't know what I was talking about? Holding on to the ball, I said, “You got a call from her, and it was so important, you had to take it outside.”

He squinted, and while he was trying to figure it out, I bounced the ball twice and scored another easy point.

“So, you remember now?” I asked when I came back to the center of the court.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Why don't you talk about her? I was thinking that since you and I are friends, you can at least tell me her name.”

He held up his hand to block my shot, but his best defense was his words. “Her name is Mom,” he said, right as I flicked my wrist and then watched the ball fly over the backboard.

“Mom?” I stood there, thinking that Mom better be short for something like Momtina or Momvella or else I was going to feel like a fool.