Never Say Never (15 page)

Miriam said, “Well, I do. I wanted you guys to know how much I love you. And how much I appreciate all that you've done for me. Not just since Chauncey passed away, but for half my life. You are, and will always be, my sisters.”

Michellelee and I sat there, stunned at this sentiment.

“Here!” Michellelee stood up and held out her wrist to Miriam. “Help me put this on.”

As Michellelee held out her left arm, she used her right hand to fan her tears away. “This is just so beautiful,” she sniffed, once Miriam had finished.

Then my best friend turned to me. “You need help?”

I nodded, because it was too hard to speak. As Miriam looped the bracelet around my wrist and hooked it, I blinked back my tears of guilt. How dumb was it for me to think anything about Miriam hugging Jamal?

When my bracelet was secure, Miriam said to me, “I really have to thank you, Em, for how much you've helped me this week.”

“I . . . I haven't even . . . really been here.”

“But you have, you kinda sent your surrogate.” She smiled. “And I appreciate that. I was just thanking Jamal for everything, too. I didn't buy him anything, though.” She laughed a little. “But I let him know that I would've never made it without him and you.” She paused. “And you, too, Michellelee.”

So that's what their hug was all about. Really, I should have known. We all hugged each other. All the time. It had to be pure exhaustion that had me seeing and thinking something that wasn't even there.

I stood and hugged Miriam. I held her the way she'd held Jamal in the dining room. Totally innocently. And as I held her, I closed my eyes and asked God to forgive me for my thoughts.

“We are best friends,” Miriam said when she pulled back.

“Yes. And we'll be that way forever.”

She kissed me on my cheek. “Love you.”

“Mean it,” I said.

Then Michellelee linked her arms through both of ours. “And I love you—mean it, too, guys.” She kissed both our cheeks and then, arm in arm, the three of us walked out of the bedroom.

13

Miriam

T
his was life after death.

An empty house. Though it wasn't really empty. Every bedroom was filled with my three sons and Mama Cee and Charlie, who had stayed even though Chauncey's funeral had been days ago.

But without Chauncey, this was an empty space. Or maybe it was just that my heart wasn't really beating.

“What are you doing now?”

I held up the mop. “I just cleaned the bathroom,” I told my mother-in-law.

She frowned. “Didn't you do that yesterday?”

I shoved the mop into the corner. “Did I?” I shrugged. “There've been so many people coming in and out of this house over the past week, I just want to get everything back in place.”

My mother-in-law grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then sat at the table. “Why don't you sit with me for a couple of minutes?”

“I will, Mama Cee. I'm gonna start dinner first.”

“I was thinking that Charlie should take us out tonight. You've
been doing nothing but cleaning and cooking and washing,” she said, her voice thick with concern. “You deserve a break.”

I laid the pan on the stove, then reached into the refrigerator for the pork chops that I'd thawed out last night. “Charlie doesn't have to do that.” I didn't want to go anywhere. I wanted to cook and clean and wash and talk and laugh as if life was the same. Because as long as I moved, I didn't feel.

I said, “And anyway, you know these restaurants out here charge so much money.”

“I wasn't talking about anyplace fancy. I just want to get you out of the house.”

“I already started cooking, Mama Cee. Maybe next time.”

“Okay,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow.”

As I rinsed the pork chops, I could feel my mother-in-law's eyes on me like a laser. There was no reason for her to worry. As long as I was cooking, and cleaning, and washing.

Then the phone rang and I dropped the meat and grabbed the receiver, grateful for another distraction.

“Hey, Miriam. What's going on?”

This daily call was my only reason to smile. “Nothing. How are you and Em doing?”

“We're good. Emily's at work.”

“I can't believe the hours she's putting in, but she did call me this morning and asked me what I wanted to do about the boys.”

“She told me that she wanted them to speak to someone. One of her colleagues, since she's too close Junior and 'em. I told her that was a good idea.”

“I want to talk to them about it first,” I said. “To see if it's even necessary.”

“Okay, if you want, I can talk to them with you.”

I smiled. “That would be great. The boys are still home. They're not going back to school till Monday.”

“That's probably best.”

“I thought so. I know it'll end up being almost two weeks that they'll be out, but I want to make sure they're okay before I let them go, you know?”

“You're doing the right thing.”

“And they're spending time with Mama Cee and Charlie,” I added.

“Now, that's a good thing.”

I wanted to tell him that it would be good for the boys to spend time with him, too, but I didn't want to impose on Jamal that way. He'd been with me every day before the funeral and now that it was over, I didn't expect him to give me his time like that.

“So . . . otherwise, you're good?” he asked.

I took a quick look over my shoulder and my mother-in-law was still sitting there, sipping her water, and now listening to my conversation. “Yeah,” I said, even though I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to tell him that even though the pomp and circumstance of laying Chauncey to rest was over, I still cried every night. I wanted to tell him that I still ached with grief that was breaking my bones. I wanted to tell him that I was scared that I would feel this way for the rest of my life.

But with Mama Cee so close, I couldn't tell the truth. All I could do was add, “I'm really good.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said, sounding surprised.

I could tell he expected more. “What about you?” I asked.

He paused. “I'm trying to hang in there.”

It was clear that today wasn't a good day for Jamal, and I wanted to reach out and hold him the way he'd been holding me, the way I missed so much, since I hadn't seen him since the day of the funeral.

“I'm so sorry,” was all I could say, though, because of Mama Cee.

Several silent seconds passed between us, as if Jamal was waiting for me to open up to him the way he'd just done to me.

Finally, he said, “Well, I was just checking on you.”

I swallowed the hard lump in my throat. I wanted him to stay on the phone. I wanted to keep talking. I wanted to help him and I wanted him to help me.

But instead I said, “Thanks.” Then I spoke quickly. “Tell Em I'll give her a call tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

I clicked off without saying any more, not even a good-bye.

“Is Jamal all right?”

I took a moment before I turned around. “Yeah, he's just missing Chauncey, you know?”

Mama Cee nodded slowly. “Those two were so close. As close as Charlie and Chauncey.” She paused. “Those were
my
three sons,” she added softly.

Taking a seat at the table next to her, I placed my hands over Mama Cee's. She was such a strong woman, so spiritually centered, that sometimes I forgot that she had lost her son.

“Mama Cee, we're going to be all right.”

She squeezed my hand. “Have you given any more thought to coming home with me and Charlie?”

“Were you talking about me and the boys moving down there
now
?”

She nodded. “I can't imagine you here”—she paused as her eyes roamed around the kitchen—“by yourself. Without Chauncey.”

“Well, I haven't had any time to think about it,” I said. “I certainly wasn't thinking about moving this soon.”

“Why not?”

“The boys have school . . . and everything.”

“I have a news flash.” She paused. “We have schools in Phoenix.”

I smiled. “I know. It's just that I'm not sure it'll be good for the boys to have this much change in their lives.”

“What's good for the boys is to be around people who love them. Now, I know you as their mama love them with all your heart. But why not have a couple more hearts helping you out?”

I gave myself time to think about her words. Truly, I wanted what was best for my sons. There was no way to know what the impact of losing their father would be. So maybe Mama Cee was right.

Still, for some reason, I wanted to slow this down. “You may be right. So, over Christmas . . .”

Mama Cee frowned. “Christmas? Why wait till then?”

“I'm thinking that at Christmas, I won't have to take the boys out of school. As it is, they've already missed over a week. So, if I wait till the holidays, I can spend more time down there, look around, consider some places to live, check out job opportunities . . . you know, all that stuff.”

Mama Cee shook her head, and her shoulders rose slowly as she stiffened. “I really think you need to do this before Christmas.”

Her tone had changed, and now there was an urgency to her words.

“There's just something in my spirit, baby. I want you and the boys with me.”

I waited a second before I said, “Do you know how much I love you?”

She softened and her shoulders slacked. “Probably not as much I love you,” she kidded.

I smiled. “You know what?” I paused, wanting to be sure of what I was about to say. “We'll do it.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “The boys and I will move.”

When my mother-in-law clapped, I held up my hands, trying to temper her excitement. “Now, I'm not sure how soon. I really don't want to rush it . . . for the boys.”

“Okay.” She pushed herself up. “Let me go tell Charlie. He's going to be so excited.”

I swear, it looked like my mother-in-law was cha-chaing out of the kitchen.

I laughed. And then I sighed. Well, decision made—it looked like the boys and I were on our way to Arizona.

14

Emily

I
pressed the button for the penthouse and then leaned back as the elevator ascended. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to rejuvenate my body.

But it didn't help. It wasn't just the physicality of the fourteen-hour days that made me so weary. It was the emotionality of the sessions that wrung every ounce of energy from me.

Especially today.

Especially LaTonya Miller.

For ten days now, I'd been working with LaTonya, and just yesterday, I was sure that we'd had our first breakthrough. LaTonya had told me that she wasn't going to cry anymore. Of course, I knew that wasn't true, but it was an indication that she was beginning to heal.

At least, that's what I thought.

But the call this afternoon from her parents had stopped me dead in the middle of planning for another session, and I'd driven like I was flying a 747.

At their home, which was right off Crenshaw, Mr. Miller had met me at the door with tears in his eyes while his wife sobbed quietly on their living room sofa.

“Doctor Harrington,” he said, shortening my name as many of the parents of my clients did.

That was all that he needed to say. In his tone, I heard his desperate cry for me to save his child.

I asked, “Where is she?”

“In her bedroom.”

There was no need for the Millers to lead me back through the long hallway. I'd been to their home three times already.

I paused at her bedroom door for a moment, studying the six-year-old who sat in the middle of one of the twin beds with her legs crossed. She'd created a fort around her tiny body—six stuffed animals surrounded her: two bears, two dogs, two elephants were her protection.

In LaTonya's lap was the framed picture of her sister, the one her parents said she slept with, then carried with her throughout the day. I'd told her parents that the picture was fine, but I wasn't quite sure how to handle this new crisis.

“Hey, LaTonya,” I said softly, not wanting to startle her.

She didn't look up; her eyes were steady on the photograph.

I approached her bed slowly, then pushed aside one of the elephants so that I could sit down. I rested on the edge of the bed, with my eyes on the girl, who still hadn't looked up at me. From the moment I'd met LaTonya the day after the fire, I felt like our hearts were connected. It had startled me at first, when I saw her that day, sitting on the pew in the church between her grieving parents. I stared at her for a long time—she looked just like the little girl in my dreams, just like the little girl I imagined that Jamal and I would have one day.

“How are you?”

Finally, LaTonya raised her head, and her brown eyes were wide circles as she looked at me. “Are you mad at me, too?”

“No.” I spoke and shook my head at the same time so that she would be sure. “I'm not mad at you at all.”

“Mommy and Daddy are mad.”

“No,” I said again. “They're not mad.”

“Mommy was crying.”

“She's sad because of what you did.”

She lowered her head again. “I'm sorry,” she said softly. “I was just trying to start the fire so that I could die and go to heaven, too.”

Even though her parents had told me how Mrs. Miller had found LaTonya in the kitchen, standing on a chair, with a newspaper rolled up and aimed at the flame on the stove, I still wasn't prepared to hear the confession from this little girl.

She said, “I don't want LaTrisha to be in heaven by herself.”

“She's not by herself. Remember we talked about this. Remember she's with Jesus?”