Never Say Never (41 page)

“Yes,” I answered.

I shocked her, for just a moment. But then she asked, “Do you like school?”

“Yes,” I spoke for LaTrisha again. “It's a cool school.”

The tips of LaTonya's lips twitched and I prayed that she would smile. She didn't, but she seemed to like our game. She asked her sister all kinds of questions, many about heaven. And I answered every single one, as best as I could.

LaTonya still hadn't smiled, but she had talked. More than she had in any session. When our fifty minutes were up, I reached for the doll, but LaTonya hugged the doll to her chest.

“Can I take her home?”

My objective had been to get her to open up, to talk more, but I didn't want her to get used to talking just to a doll. But then I said, “Sure. But only if you promise to bring her back tomorrow, okay?”

She nodded, and when the ends of her lips turned up, like a smile wasn't far away, I knew I'd made the right decision.

“Okay, let's go see your parents.” I held her hand like I always did, but the moment I opened the door, she broke away and took off running.

I blinked a couple of times, trying to make sense of the scene in front of me. LaTonya had run right into Jamal.

“What are you doing here?” I asked at the same time that he was saying “Whoa!” to LaTonya.

The Millers stood up and Mrs. Miller rushed to her daughter. “LaTonya, what are you doing?”

“He's the man I saw when I talked to LaTrisha.”

“What?” the Millers and I said at the same time.

“He was with LaTrisha,” she said with certainty. “And then he carried me.”

It must've been the way her parents and I stared at her that made LaTonya say, “I'm sorry.”

“No, it's okay.” Jamal held up his hand to Mrs. Miller, then knelt down in front of the girl. “What's your name?”

“LaTonya.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you,” he said. “I'm Doctor H.'s husband.”

“You are?”

She looked up at me and I nodded. Because what else was I going to do? Explain affairs to her? Discuss divorce?

“And you know what?” Jamal asked LaTonya.

She shook her head.

“These”—he glanced up at me before he looked back down—“are for you.”

He held out a bouquet of flowers and LaTonya grabbed them. Then she did something that I'd never seen.

LaTonya smiled.

And reached out her arms and hugged him.

I wanted to call foul! Really a technical foul. Because Jamal came here and was using this child to get to me. Using her to remind me that he had a heart. A great heart. A loving heart. Because children always knew.

But I wasn't going to be fooled.

“Tell Mr. Harrington thank you,” Mrs. Miller said.

I opened my mouth to correct her, but Jamal held up his hand, stopping me.

“It was nice to meet you,” the Millers told my husband before Mr. Miller took the flowers from his daughter.

Then Mrs. Miller held LaTonya's hand and led their daughter from my office.

Before she got to the door, LaTonya turned around. Still holding on to the doll, she waved and then gave me another smile. A smile that made me grin.

She walked out the door with her parents and I faced Jamal. I was still smiling when I looked at him. But then I remembered all that he'd done and my grin faded.

Turning around, I stomped into my office. “What're you doing here?”

He followed me inside. “Pastor said you sent her an e-mail about counseling.”

“That's correct,” I said, keeping my back to him. I picked up my bag and stuffed two folders inside. My plan had been to work here for another hour or two or four. I didn't want to go home, but if Jamal was going to be here, then even my empty house would be a better place. “There's no point to counseling. I've been trying to tell you that, but you're not listening, you're not understanding.”

“I understand that you're hurt.”

I pivoted, and now, I was facing him. That was my first mistake. Because what I should have done was just slap him, then walk out of the office.

“Hurt? You think that's what I am? If that's what you think, then you don't understand anything!” I shouted. “Because hurt doesn't even begin to describe what I've been through. Hurt is when you drop a bowling ball on your toe.

“What you've done to me . . . that's not hurt. What you've done to me . . . that word hasn't been created.” I got close enough to point my finger in his face. “There's nothing to describe all the agony, all the crying, and wondering what I did wrong. Wondering if it happened because I wasn't good enough, I didn't satisfy you enough. Wondering what it was like for you . . .”

That was my second mistake. Because for all this time, I'd fought
hard to keep that picture out of my mind. I never let myself imagine Miriam in bed with my husband. Because if I did, I'd lose it.

So I'd kept that picture at bay.

Until now.

But now they were in my mind. Together. Snapshots flashing. Of Miriam and Jamal. Hugging. Kissing. And the photo of them together in bed . . .

“Oh, God!” I pressed my hand against my stomach because I could feel the bile rising in me. “Oh, God!”

My knees began to shake, and by the time the first tear came, my body had collapsed. But before I could wither all the way down, Jamal caught me and gently lowered me to the floor.

Screaming, I squeezed my eyes. I had to get that image out of my mind. But it wouldn't go away. The louder I screamed, the bolder the image. And the tighter Jamal held me.

I curled up, bringing my knees to my chest, trying to find some way to cover my aching heart. Because it
was
aching. But no matter what I did, the pain wouldn't leave.

I cried as if I hadn't been crying yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. I cried as if this pain were new, even though it felt so old.

My sobs were choking me, but I had to push the words out. “How could you do this to me?”

I didn't think it was possible, but Jamal held me tighter. “I'm so sorry,” he sobbed with me. “I'm so, so sorry.”

Every last tear that was in me was released, and soon there were no more.

There was silence now, at least inside the office. Through the window, the sounds of the city came through: the hum of car engines, the honking of horns, and in the distance a siren that faded in just a minute.

Still, I stayed in Jamal's arms. Though he had brought me this pain, his embrace was taking every bit of it away.

More minutes. Another hour. And really, I could've stayed there one more day. But I had to get up sometime. I shifted, and Jamal's eyes were on me. And there were his tears.

Now, I cried again, for a different reason. I cried because I'd been broken.

And I was glad about it.

45

Miriam

November 16, 2012

T
his didn't look anything like the house that we'd lived in the last eight years. This didn't look anything like the place where I loved my husband, loved my children, loved my life.

I sat on the bottom step of the staircase, taking in the stacks of some brown, some white U-Haul boxes and the sheet-covered furniture. Our life had been dismantled, first by Chauncey's death, and now by my hands, along with Michellelee and a few church members who'd helped me pack.

But even though everything had been taken apart, the life we'd lived in this house was still whole. So I took these moments to soak up all the memories, all the passing years. From the day Chauncey had lifted me and my eight-month-pregnant belly up and stumbled as he carried me over the threshold, to when we brought home every single one of our sons for the first time. We'd celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, first days of school. We'd rejoiced at graduations from kindergarten and elementary school. We'd had some sickness and a whole lot of health.

This house had been full of life and filled with love.

It was probably a good thing that my phone rang or I would've
sat there all day in the comfort of remembering. When I checked the caller ID screen, I smiled.

“Hi, Junior!”

“Mom!”

“I'm sorry . . . hi, Chauncey.”

I could hear the smile in his voice when he asked, “What're you doing?”

“Just waiting for the movers. They should be here any minute.”

“Everything is packed up?”

“Yes. I'm ready to go. What're you guys doing?”

“We just finished eating breakfast and Uncle Charlie is gonna take us to school. Will you be here when we come home?”

“No, I'm not getting into Phoenix until about eight tonight.”

“Okay. I'll wait up for you,” Junior said.

“Me, too!” I heard Mikey shout out.

“I'm gonna stay up, too,” Stevie piped in.

“Who's that in the background?” I asked, pretending not to know.

“It's me, Mom. Stevie.”

“And Mikey.”

“I put the phone on speaker so that you can hear all of us,” Junior said, taking charge.

“Oh my goodness. You all sound so grown-up. I don't think I'm going to recognize you when I get there.”

My youngest boys giggled. “It's only been a week, Mom,” Mikey said. “You'll recognize us.”

“Whew! Okay, that's good.”

Mikey asked, “Mom, can we go to the airport with Uncle Charlie to pick you up?”

“You have to ask your uncle and Grandmama Cee.”

“Okay,” Mikey said. “Grandmama Cee lets us do everything!”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but smile. The greatest gift
I could've given to Mama Cee was having her grandchildren in Arizona with her. And to hear her tell it, I was part of that gift, too.

Finally making the decision to definitely move to Phoenix had been a present for me. A new life away from old memories.

The sound of a slamming car door made me say, “Boys, the movers are here.”

“Okay, Mom,” Chauncey said. “We'll see you tonight.”

“I can't wait,” I said. “I love you guys.”

“We love you, too, Mom,” they sang together.

I hung up, but held the cell phone to my chest. Those were my three reasons for moving on, and I was happy that they were doing so well.

Their excitement had surprised me on the afternoon I'd met with Emily, then came home and told them that I'd finally decided to move and that we were going to do it now. Even Junior, who'd just made the basketball team, thought Phoenix was going to be great 'cause he'd be a star there. As I called Mama Cee and made plans, my children's enthusiasm had been contagious. I was almost as happy as they were.

Almost.

The knock on the door stopped my thoughts. “It's open,” I said, turning toward the living room. I surveyed the boxes, wondering where the movers should begin. When I heard the footsteps behind me, I said, “I think it'll be best to start in here.”

And then, he said, “Miriam.”

I froze, but only for a second before I swung around. My heart started doing one of those teenage things, beating so rapidly, my breath was taken away. I didn't know if it was because I'd already been visiting the past, but I started remembering everything about Jamal: the first time I saw him when Chauncey introduced me to his best friend at a Christmas dinner. And then the last time I saw him, when he stood in front of the Westin fighting for his love.

My most vivid memory, though, was the last time I'd seen him up close like this. The last time we'd kissed. Only God knew what would've happened if Michellelee hadn't shown up.

He held up his hands. “Don't worry. Emily knows that I'm here.”

I shook my head. “I wasn't worried. I'm never worried . . . when I'm with you.” Jamal shifted from one foot to the other as if my words made him uncomfortable. So I said, “How are you?” hoping to get our conversation to a place where Jamal wanted to be.

“I've been good,” he said, relaxing once again. “But the question is, how are you? And the boys?”

“We're good.” I paused and glanced around the living room quickly. “You're probably a little surprised . . . we're moving. I'd been thinking about it for quite some time, but finally just decided to do it.”

“I'm not surprised at all. Michellelee told Emily, and I speak to Mama Cee every week.”

“I didn't know that, but I'm glad. Mama Cee loves you.”

“Yeah, she still feels like family, you know?”

I nodded. “I understand that. She's the only mother I've known.”

“I'm glad you're going to be there with them. They'll look out for you and the boys.”

I wondered if his happiness had anything to do with the fact that I'd be far away from his life.

He must've read my mind. “I'm sorry we won't be seeing you as much . . . now that you're moving.”

I chuckled a little bit. “I have a feeling even if I were staying, we wouldn't be around each other too much.”

He gave me a small smile. “You're right about that.” He paused. “Miriam, I wanted to thank you for talking to Emily. She told me that you explained . . . what this was. And I appreciate that.”

“I told her the truth. And I appreciated her listening and not even once taking a swing at me.” When Jamal shifted again, I realized
my humor wasn't hitting the mark this morning. I added, “I don't know if I would've been as gracious.”

“Yeah, she's been amazing. She's really trying to handle this.”

I had to swallow, because right there in front of my face, I could see the love that he had for his wife. It was like he was washed in it. “So . . . you guys . . . are back together?”

“We're working toward that.”

I wanted to know what that meant, but I didn't dare ask. I didn't even ask Michellelee whenever we talked. It was an unspoken rule—Jamal and Emily were never to be discussed.