Never Say Never (38 page)

Some time went by and then Michellelee said, “You can lie here and find all kinds of reasons to leave. But it takes the same effort to come up with reasons to stay.”

“You know you're getting on my nerves, right?” I told her.

“That must mean I'm making progress.”

“You're not. You're just wasting syllables. I already told you, this is the end. Game over, and I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

After a couple of wonderful, quiet minutes, Michellelee said, “Can I ask you just one more thing?”

“No.”

“You hardly mention Miriam.”

My feet began to shake and I knew that soon that tremble would rise all up in me. “Can't talk about her, because I don't want to think about death.”

Michellelee laughed, but then her laugh turned to a giggle, then a chuckle, and then nothing. She tilted her head, looking at me as if she wasn't so sure if I'd been kidding. “That's a joke, right?”

“No.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” I closed my eyes, letting Michellelee know our conversation was over. But I could feel her eyes on me, wondering. Then she lay down beside me.

Now I felt bad. She was worried, and she'd stay with me all night, probably not even closing her eyes. She'd probably check my purse in the morning, making sure that I didn't leave with a butcher knife or two.

Still, though, I snuggled under the softness of the fur blanket. It was too bad for Michellelee, because I could already tell this was going to be some of the best sleep I'd had in many nights.

40

Miriam

I
called Michellelee, asking for one simple favor.

“I need you to set up one of our lunches. With you, me . . . and Emily. Can you do it?”

In the silent seconds that followed, I could hear Michellelee's surprise. Then she said, “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and remembered the scene that had taken place in front of me on Sunday night. I had to do what I had to do. “It's a great idea. Emily and I have to have it out . . .”

“Have it out?”

“I mean”—I stayed calm even though I could hear Michellelee breathing heavily—“Em and I need to really talk. Even you said that,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, but I talked to her, and I'm thinking that you might need to wait a couple of weeks or years. A decade might even work better.”

I hoped Michellelee meant that as a joke, though I wasn't sure. “Look, I've been thinking a lot about what you said . . . about us being sisters,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“You were right. No matter what.”

“Which makes your betrayal even worse,” Michellelee reminded me.

“I know that. But we're going to have to do this one day, and doing it now is better for her and for me.”

“Do you have some kind of death wish?”

“That's not funny, Michellelee.”

“Okay, I'm sorry. But meeting with Emily right now is kinda like that.”

“Look, I know Em wants to move forward.” At least, that was my hope. I continued, “And in order to move forward, sometimes you've got to take care of stuff in your past.”

“That's what I'm saying,” Michellelee exclaimed. “The stuff that went down with you and Jamal may not be far enough in the past. So like I said, wait a decade, or now that I think about it, a century might even be better.”

I filled my cheeks with air, then blew out a long breath.

I guessed Michellelee could hear my frustration. She said, “Look, I'm not really kidding. Emily is one pissed-off white chick.”

“That's why we need to do this,” I said. “Letting time sit between us won't help. So we need to do this and we can both move on.”

She paused for so long, I thought we'd gotten disconnected. “You sound like you're the psychologist.”

“I just know what I know.”

More hesitation. “Oh . . . kay. What're you thinking? One of our morning breakfasts?”

Even though she couldn't see me, I shook my head. “No, 'cause we're gonna need you there, and whenever we get together during the week, you're called away. So, what about Saturday?”

“Yeah, that's a good move, 'cause I'm gonna need to be there to keep her off you.”

Again, I thought it was a joke, but I wasn't sure.

“One other thing,” I said. “Don't tell Emily that I'm gonna be there.”

She sucked her teeth. “What? You want to blindside her?”

“I'm not going to blindside her or do anything else. But do you think she's really going to show up if she knows I'll be there?”

After a moment, Michellelee agreed. She hung up with promises to call me right back. And just when I'd put the chicken in the oven for my sons' dinner, she called.

“We're on for Saturday, but be ready, Miriam . . .”

“You didn't tell her?”

“No.”

I thanked Michellelee for that and then told her that I was looking forward to Saturday, even though I wasn't.

For the next three days, as I went about my life, I thought about my children, and I thought about Jamal. I thought about him over and over.

And when I wasn't thinking about him, I thought about what I was going to say to his wife.

41

Emily

M
y instinct was to say no when Michellelee called inviting me to lunch. But then she went into her spiel about how I needed to get out from those four walls in my house, and how I really needed a friend.

All of that was true, but it was her last point that moved me.

When I made the left onto Via Marina, I pushed thoughts of my troubled marriage out of my mind. For just an hour, I would be free. Free in a way I hadn't been in the eleven days since I'd found out about Jamal and Miriam.

Miriam!

Every time she came into my consciousness, I pressed her down—I could only deal with one rage at a time. And since Jamal was the one always in my face—or trying to be—I had to annihilate him first.

I stepped quickly into the restaurant, but then I slowed down and salivated at the dozens of cheesecake slices that put inches on my hips just by looking. There were at least six that I could've ordered as my entrée, and I was trying to make my decision when the hostess greeted me.

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “That's just my favorite sight.”

She laughed. “I understand. Do you know how hard it is to work here?”

“I'm meeting someone,” I told her. “Michellelee.”

“She's already here,” the hostess gushed.

I smiled as the hostess talked about my friend as if she were a major star. Michellelee could run for office if she wanted to.

We stepped past table after table, moving toward the back. Finally I spotted my friend, all the way in the corner. I guessed this was one of those days where Michellelee wanted more privacy, because most of the time, she was in the center of the room—to see and be seen.

“Hey, girl.” She stood as she hugged me.

I held her just as tight. “Hey, yourself,” I said. It had been too long since we'd gotten out together like this.

I was just about to dump my bag in the chair across from hers, but there was already a purse there. My first thought was that the bag belonged to Michellelee, but then I saw the Louis Vuitton that she always carried was on the table.

I measured the situation, adding it all up, and just as I was about to come to my own conclusion, I heard the voice behind me.

“Hi, Emily.”

I swung around, and she was just lucky that my hand hadn't been balled up into a fist, because I would have made contact and knocked her out. I glared at Miriam, but then I turned the heat of my stare onto Michellelee.

“I thought this was going to be just the two of us.”

Michellelee put her hand on her chest, feigning innocence. “I never said that.”

“You didn't tell me that she was coming.”

“You didn't ask.”

There had to be steam coming out of my ears. Once again, I was learning that Michellelee couldn't be trusted.

Michellelee said, “Em, you guys need to talk.”

“You know what she did to me.”

Behind me, Miriam put in her two cents. “That's why we need to talk.”

Once again, I whipped around, and this time, my finger was right in her face. “You don't get to say a word,” I growled. “Not a single word.”

She stood there quietly, though she didn't look the least bit intimidated. I was impressed. I wouldn't ever want to be the mistress in the path of a scorned wife.

Back at Michellelee, I said, “I can't believe you did this.”

“I did it because it needed to be done.”

I swung my purse over my shoulder, missing Miriam's jaw by two inches. “I'm getting out of here.”

Michellelee grabbed my arm, and then dipped her head slightly as if she were trying to hide. “Can you do me a favor?” Her eyes darted to the tables around us, then she whispered, “I'm a big celebrity, so can you not make a scene? I mean, I don't want to see this on TMZ.” Her lips hardly moved when she said, “Just sit your narrow behind down and hear her out.”

I didn't budge, and shot Michellelee a look that was meant to kill. But that didn't seem to mean a thing to her.

She kept on, “Just listen and after that, if you want to walk out, then it's on you. But give her at least a couple of minutes. Do it for the sake of us once being sisters.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot”—I turned and shot daggers at Miriam—“it must've been that thing she did with my husband that made me forget about our sister thing.”

“I agree,” Michellelee said. “What Miriam did was a low-down, dirty move.”

If I hadn't been in the middle of a fight, I would have busted out laughing at the shocked hurt on Miriam's face. Good!

Well, now that Miriam was exactly where I wanted her, I snapped, “Fine!” Actually, I wanted to see if Michellelee had any more jabs to throw at our friend. I flopped down into the chair, crossed my arms, and bored my eyes into Miriam.

Michellelee had been sitting across from me, but she moved her bag and slid her chair closer. She scooted so close, she was almost in my lap. I guessed she wanted to be near enough to stop me from throwing punches.

That was a smart move.

As we sat without saying a word, the waitress tiptoed over, as if she had watched from the sidelines and wasn't quite sure she wanted to be the one to serve us. The young woman whispered, “Do you want to place your drink orders?”

“Just water for me,” I mumbled without taking my eyes off Miriam.

At first, neither Miriam nor Michellelee said anything, until the waitress cleared her throat.

Then Michellelee said, “Bring three waters and we'll order in a minute,” and waved the young girl away.

More silent seconds, and then Miriam laid her hands flat on the table as if she wanted me to see that she was unarmed. Then she looked me straight in my eyes. She had a strong confidence that I'd never seen. Had being with Jamal given her that? That thought made me nauseated.

Miriam said, “Really, there's not a lot for me to say except that I'm very, very sorry.”

She paused as if she was giving me a turn to speak. But Miriam needed to understand that this was going to be her monologue and not our dialogue.

After a few seconds, she continued, “The reason I asked Michellelee to arrange this . . .”

I squinted at Michellelee once again, wanting to smack her, but I had to handle one fight at a time.

“I really wanted to tell you I'm sorry,” Miriam said again. “But I also wanted to get together because I wanted to explain other things to you.”

“Like what? The details? You want to tell me exactly what you and Jamal did? You want me to know the exact dates and times and positions?” I shook my head. “I don't need to know anything else. I know enough.”

“Well, you don't know that this had nothing to do with love.”

“Oh, I know that. I know my husband doesn't love you.”

Two points! Miriam didn't flinch, but she blinked. Hard. And rapidly for a couple of moments. I'd hurt her with words. That's all I had. Just words. And I hoped those words caused her half the pain that she'd caused me.

But then she kept on as if I hadn't spoken. “This wasn't about love, this was about loss.” She let those words settle. “When Chauncey died, I needed someone to talk to.”

“Oh, that's a good reason.” My voice was thick with sarcasm. “You're blaming this on me not being there for you.”

“I'm not blaming you, but you weren't there,” she said, seemingly unfazed by my attitude. “You need to understand that even if you'd been there every day, this would've happened anyway.”

Okay, those two points I'd scored a minute ago needed to be taken off the board. Because those points couldn't compare to the ten points she'd just scored with those few words.

“I'm telling you the truth,” Miriam said. “I owe you that.”

She waited for me to nod or say something, but I didn't move.

“I needed someone to talk to—I mean really talk to. I knew that
I could talk to Michellelee, and even with you working, I knew that you would've listened to me all night if I had called.

“But the thing was, I couldn't talk to you”—Miriam shook her head—“not the way I could talk to Jamal. I could talk to Jamal about Chauncey in a way that I couldn't with anyone else. No one knew my husband like Jamal and when we talked, I felt as if Chauncey was right there with me. I didn't feel so much loss when Jamal was around.”

She paused as if she wanted me to say something; I said nothing.

Miriam said, “Being intimate was never our intent.”

I didn't want to flinch, but I did.

She continued, “It began when I started crying one day and Jamal was comforting me and it happened.”