“I’m still going to be here, still be your friend, still help you. It’s going to be just like it was, just like it’s always been with us . . . before we became intimate.” He paused as if he wanted me to really understand his next words. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“I know, I know,” I cried.
I’d been a champion, holding my emotions back for the last three days. Pushing them down when Jamal walked through the door, knowing then that this was the end. Maybe that was why I lost it. My tears broke through and burst like a rushing river. My shoulders were heaving, my body was shaking; next, my nose would be running and snot would be coming.
Jamal stood and came to me. He reached his hand toward me and I took it. I didn’t have enough energy to stand on my own, so he pulled me up and into his arms, letting me sob into his chest.
He held me and consoled me. I only stopped crying because I got tired. I leaned away, and with the back of his hand he softly and slowly wiped away the residue of my tears.
Then, just like it always was, I don’t know which came first—his lips or mine.
Our lips connected.
We kissed with passion.
Then the doorbell rang.
He pushed me away and I stumbled backward. “Were you expecting someone?”
“No! No!” Stepping across the room, I peeked through the drapes. “Oh, my God!” I whispered as if my voice could be heard outside. “It’s Michellelee again.”
“You weren’t expecting her?”
“No! She should be at work. Oh God. I can’t answer the door. She’ll see you. Or you can go hide in my bedroom,” I said, moving toward the hallway.
But he didn’t follow me. “No,” he said calmly. “My car is in the driveway.”
“Oh God!” Every part of my body was trembling.
He held me by my shoulders, making me look at him. “It’s perfectly normal for me to be here. To be checking on you.”
The doorbell rang again.
“Oh God!” I repeated.
He said, “You have to get it together; you have to answer the door.”
“Okay.” Using the tips of my fingers, I wiped my face, hoping to erase any of the tear tracks Jamal had missed.
I took a couple of those deep yoga breaths as I moved toward the door, wishing once again that I was talking to God, because only He could save me from this. As I put my hand on the knob, I reached inside for the acting gift I’d been given and yanked open the door with sort of a smile.
“Hey, girl!” Michellelee said, hugging me before she bounced into the house. In the living room, she greeted Jamal the same way. “What’s up?”
Jamal hugged her back. “How’s it going, lady?”
I stood to the side, waiting for my cue to speak my next line.
When Jamal leaned away from Michellelee, there was total silence. My best friend looked at Jamal, then stared at me.
Oh, God. Could she see that I’d been crying?
She said, “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No!” Jamal and I spoke together, though his voice was much calmer than mine, as if he was the trained actor.
He continued, “I just came to check on Miriam and now I’m gonna turn her over to you.”
I wanted to protest, tell them that I wasn’t some kind of ball that could be volleyed between my friends. But at this point, it was best that I didn’t say anything.
With just two steps, Jamal was in front of me, and then he hugged me. One of those Sunday church hugs that were exchanged between Sister So-and-So and Brother What-Not, where you were so far apart your arms barely reached around each other. He held me only for a second, nothing like the embrace we’d shared just a few minutes ago.
“Take care,” he said to me. This good-bye was so different from the others. Because this time our good-bye had an audience, and this time I knew for sure that he wasn’t coming back. To Michellelee, he said, “I’ll check you later.”
“Okay,” my best friend and I said together.
I walked Jamal to the door. As if he needed to seal our final good-bye, he said, “I’ll tell Emily that you’re okay.”
“Thank you,” I said. I would’ve added more, but I didn’t trust my voice and I certainly couldn’t trust my emotions.
He walked out the door and I wanted to stand there and watch him until he drove away. But I felt the heat of Michellelee’s stare.
I closed the door, closed my eyes, took a deep breath before I faced my friend. I couldn’t even get a word out, though.
Michellelee marched right up to me and growled, “Are you sleeping with Jamal?”
My answer—I burst into tears.
“You are! Oh, my God!”
“No, no,” I said, finally finding my voice. “I’m not sleeping with him.” At least, that was the truth to me. I’d never been in bed with Jamal and fallen asleep.
“Well, what is that? I walk in here, your eyes are red, I ask you if you’re sleeping with him—”
“I’m not sleeping with him!”
“Well, why did you start crying?”
“Because we were talking about Chauncey and that was in my head and—”
“Stop lying, Miriam!”
Her words slapped me into silence—at least for a moment.
She said, “I’ve known you half your life. Something’s going on.” She paused and held her hands to her head. “Oh, my God. Those were his clothes the other day.”
“No!”
She looked at me and shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Try telling me the truth.”
I pressed my lips together. The truth would never come from me.
Michellelee took a breath, stood straighter, and calmed her voice. “Miriam, please. You’ve got to tell me.”
I didn’t want to faint, so I sat down on the sofa and said nothing.
“What’s going on between you and Jamal?”
“Nothing,” I said, sounding weak even to my own ears. But I was going to stick to this story.
Michellelee was pacing, walking from one end of the living room to the other. “This is a disaster!”
“I’m not . . . sleeping . . . with him.”
She stopped moving and looked down on me as if I was dumb. “There’s a reason why all those Emmys are sitting in my office. I’m one of the best investigative reporters in the country. I know what I know, and I know . . . that you’re having an affair with Jamal!” Her voice was rising again. “That’s Emily’s husband!”
I did it again, cried like someone was beating me. “I know who he is!”
“So you admit it!”
“No!”
Michellelee threw up her hands. “You know what?” She stomped over to the chair where she’d dropped her purse. Then she swung back around and glared at me with a stare that burned through to my soul. “So that I don’t say anything you’ll regret”—she paused for a moment—“I’m going to just walk out of here.” Her steps were heavy, almost echoing through the house as she made her way to the door. But then she faced me again. “You know this is wrong. And you know that it’s going to end. And when it ends, it’s going to be bad. For everyone.”
There was no need to say anything. She already knew the truth.
Then she added, “Jamal loves Emily,” as if I didn’t already know that. As if I didn’t already feel like trash.
All I did was watch her walk out the door, and then I sat alone in the dead silence. She was right about everything and she knew it.
What was I going to do? I had no idea, but what scared me more than not having answers to my own questions was Michellelee. What was she going to do?
30
Emily
Honey, I’m home!”
Dropping my bag by the door, I stood with my arms open wide, waiting for Jamal to come rushing out of the bedroom or the kitchen or the bathroom. But after a few seconds of just standing there, I r
ealized that I was alone.
I pulled my cell phone from my purse, but paused before I dialed his number. I hadn’t called Jamal because I’d wanted this to be a surprise. And the surprise could still work, and be even better if I hurried.
Inside the bedroom, I tossed my suitcase onto the bed, then rushed into the bathroom. In less than two minutes, I stepped into the shower, turned it on full blast, then leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. My plan was to relax, but thoughts of the last three weeks played in my mind like a video. I hadn’t had time to do my own grieving, and as a psychologist, I knew that I had to take time for that. Now that I was home, I’d be able to mourn Chauncey with Jamal and help my husband in the process.
Then the shower door opened and I shrieked.
“Oh, my God, you scared me!” I held my hand over my heart, but in a second, the fear was gone. Now the fierce pounding in my chest had nothing to do with being afraid.
It was the chiseled chocolate body that stood in front of me that had my heart thumping.
My husband.
For a moment, all I did was stare and savor the perfection of him. His muscled chest, his six-pack abs, and all that wonderful territory below.
He was totally naked. He was all mine.
I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him from my soul. God, how I had missed this man. Lord, how I loved him.
As the shower’s rain poured down on us, Jamal pressed me gently against the wall and I could feel how much he’d missed me and loved me, too. I wanted him to take me right then, but he was in no hurry. Our lips lingered, though it was getting harder for me to just kiss. Jamal teased me with his lips and with his fingers. I moaned, but what I really wanted to do was scream.
Finally, his tongue began to take a journey and I leaned back, soaking in the sensations. But I couldn’t take it anymore. Patience had never been my virtue and it had been three weeks since I’d had this man. I wasn’t going to wait any longer. Holding on to him, I wrapped my legs around his waist, letting him know with my cries that I was so ready.
I could have exploded right then, but Jamal slowed me down and made me savor every stroke, relish each sensation. But even though he tried to control the pace, not even a minute passed before I cried out, squeezing my eyes and every muscle in my body, trying to hold on to every second of this ecstasy.
When I opened my eyes, Jamal’s beautiful brown eyes were right there looking at me.
“I am so happy to have you home,” he said, speaking his first words.
I held him as tightly as I could. “You have no idea how happy I am to be here.”
“Turn around,” he whispered.
I grinned. Round two. I leaned in against the wall, but then I felt the loofah against my skin. Jamal massaged the sponge into my back and the fragrance of my aloe vera bath gel filled the air.
As much as I wanted my husband again, this felt so good. Like before, Jamal took his time, pouring the gel on my skin, then rubbing it in with the sponge. He covered every inch of me, from my ankles to my calves, then to my legs, back, and shoulders. He turned me around and kissed me as he spent extra time on all the parts that made me a woman.
I took the sponge from his hand and returned the favor. Now, I took my time, touching my husband in all the places and all the ways that I’d missed.
By the time we stepped out of the shower, my fingers were puckered, but I didn’t care. He wrapped me in a towel, then wrapped one around his waist and we held hands as we walked into our bedroom.
Jamal let go of me for a moment, then dashed into his closet. “And these”—he came out holding a bouquet of roses—“are for you.”
I took the vase and inhaled the fragrance. “Thank you, but how did you know I’d be home today?”
“You said you’d be home on Tuesday and then when you didn’t call this morning, I figured you were going to try to surprise me.”
I grinned. “Yeah, that’s what I wanted to do.”
“Well, I wanted to be here to greet you with these. And tell you that I love you. Today, tomorrow, the next day, and the next. I. Love. You.” Taking the flowers from me, he placed the vase on the nightstand, Then he pulled me into his arms once again. “Do you know what I want to do?”
I took a quick look at the bed and he laughed.
“You gotta give me a moment, babe,” he said. “What I want to do is go out. Go out and have a good time.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. You wanna do Gladstones?”
I clapped. “That would be great.” It had been a while since we’d gone to one of the best seafood restaurants in Malibu. It had been a while since we’d done so much. But it seemed like the week I’d been at the hospital with LaTonya had been good for Jamal. He was smiling, he seemed happy.
I jumped into my favorite jeans, added a white blouse, a navy blazer, and a red infinity scarf, and I was ready to go. When I stepped out of my dressing room, Jamal was wearing jeans and a navy blazer, too. We laughed; we were so in sync, the way we were supposed to be.
I grabbed my messenger bag, and just as I started to transfer what I needed from my purse, Jamal pulled my arm. “Wait, I want to get my license and a credit card. My wallet won’t fit in this bag.”
“You don’t need any of that.” He twirled me around. “You’re with me. Big Poppa got you.”
“Big Poppa?”
He nodded and grinned.
“I guess a lot has happened since I’ve been away.”
His grin faded, but just as fast, I got it back when I said, “Well, if that’s the case, let’s go, Big Poppa.”
All the way down in the elevator, we held hands as we chatted.
“I’ll be back to regular office hours tomorrow,” I told him.
“Now that you’re back, I know I can live again,” he said to me.
That just made me want to love him more. And even though the elevator doors had opened I kissed Jamal as if I couldn’t get enough.
Inside the garage, we slid into his car, then Jamal steered with one hand and held my hand with his other. At the red light, he lifted my hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss.
“Do you know how much I love you?” he said.
I smiled. “You’ve given me some idea.”
We rode in the quiet comfort of just being with each other. These were some of the best moments for me, knowing that without a word being exchanged, I was loved, completely.
We were just a few blocks from home when the Bluetooth system announced “Incoming call.”
Glancing at the console screen, I said, “Oh, it’s Miriam! And Michellelee has been trying to reach her!”
It took only a millisecond for me to press the button to connect the call, but before I could even say hello, Miriam’s voice rang through the car. “Jamal!” she cried out. Her words came fast, as if she wasn’t even breathing. “Michellelee asked me if we were sleeping together and I didn’t tell her anything. She asked if you were the one who was here the other day and I told her no, but she didn’t believe me and I think she knows. She knows it was you and—”
Jamal snatched his hand away from mine and punched the button, disconnecting the call.
My mind tried to put the words I’d heard together as if they were pieces in a puzzle. Because that’s how they sounded to me, a jumbled mess of nonsense.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered.
“Emily.”
Slowly, I turned to him and stared at the man I’d loved for all this time. We were so connected that he didn’t have to speak. Just looking at him, I knew the truth.
“Emily,” he said again. “Let me explain. I—”
I held up my hand. “Take me home.”
“I have to tell you—”
“Take me home.”
“You have to listen to me.”
“Fine!” I screamed, pushing open the door even as the car was moving.
“Emily!” Jamal punched the brakes, making the car squeal. The car lunged forward and when
it screeched to a stop, I jumped out and ran.
“Emily!”
I ran across one lane of traffic, hit the sidewalk, then ducked into an alley, knowing there was no way for Jamal to follow me. He couldn’t leave his car in the middle of the street.
But even though I knew that Jamal wasn’t behind me, I ran and ran until my chest ached, my throat burned, and my eyes were nothing but water. I didn’t have any idea where I was, but I couldn’t go on.
I was breathing hard when I leaned against a building and slid down until my butt hit the cold pavement. I had run away from Jamal, but no matter how fast or how far I’d gone, I couldn’t outrun Miriam’s voice.
My husband had been sleeping with my best friend!
If God Himself had come down from heaven and told me this, I would’ve thought this was a case of mistaken identity, because there was no way Jamal would’ve cheated on me. It was only because the words had come from Miriam that I knew it was the truth.
But how? Why? When? The questions swirled inside me. How long? Had this been going on before Chauncey died?
“Oh, my God!” was all I kept saying.
“Miss, are you all right?”
I looked up and into the eyes of a young man holding a bulging black plastic garbage bag and wearing a long white apron over his jeans.
“Are you all right?” he repeated.
I burst into tears, but through my sobs, I was able to tell him, “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Do you want me to call somebody?”
“No,” I sniffed. “I’m fine.”
Who would he call anyway? My husband? My best friend? I couldn’t even tell him to call my other best friend. Michellelee had betrayed me, too. Because if she’d known about Jamal and Miriam, she should have told me.
Then I remembered. The call from Michellelee. She was going to see Miriam, but she hadn’t called me back. Probably because they were in cahoots.
My husband, my best friends—they had all betrayed me. All I wanted to do was sit here, but the young man would not leave me alone. So I pushed myself up, dusted myself off, and wobbled down the alley, not having any idea where I was going.
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