Never Say Never

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  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

  This 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 hi
s 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.

  He said, “It hasn’t been easy, but we’re working it out. We’re in counseling.”

  “I’m glad,” I said. “Because you and Emily . . .” I paused and shook my head as I remembered all those years ago when she’d barged into my room talking about this man. We were only nineteen and she’d known then. “You and Emily were meant to be.”

  “Thanks for saying that.”

  Then silence stood between us. We stared, we looked away, we shifted, then turned back to each other.

  Finally, he said, “Well, I should be going so you can get moving.”

  “Yeah.”

  His eyes were back on mine again. “Have a wonderful trip. Have a wonderful life, Miriam.”

  My lips began to tremble, so all I did was nod.

  “We’re going to be in touch with you, and the boys. Junior’s still our godson.”

  Now I could speak. “He wants to be called Chauncey now.”

  “Yeah,” Jamal replied. “I talked to him last week when they first got to Phoenix.”

  “Oh, they didn’t mention that. Well, thank you. I want him, and Mikey and Stevie, to be in touch with you . . . and Emily.”

  “We’re going to find a way to be there for them. We’re going to work it out so that we can be there for you, too.”

  “Thank you,” I said. That was all that would come out because my throat was starting to ache, as if a big cry was coming on. But I wouldn’t cry. At least not in front of him.

  “So,” he said.

  “So,” I said.

  Then we stood there in the most awkward moment of my life. How were we supposed to say good-bye?

  Jamal took a step forward and I did, too. He wrapped his arms around me and I held him. When he didn’t back away, I closed my eyes and held on tighter. I hardly breathed because I didn’t want anything to interfere with me locking every inch of Jamal Taylor into my memory. I wanted every second of this moment inside my mind.

  We held our embrace and I began praying. Praying about what would happen next. What I wanted to happen—Jamal leaning back, Jamal smiling, and Jamal kissing me for one last time.

  Time began moving like I imagined. Jamal leaned back, smiled. But then he simply walked away.

  I stood in the center of my living room, watching him, willing him to come back.

  But he just kept going and when he got to the door he didn’t even turn around.

  That was when I realized that I was standing in the exact spot where we’d had our last kiss. If I’d known that was the last kiss, I wouldn’t have let it end. I would’ve kissed him straight into eternity.

  It wasn’t until I heard his car door slam that I whispered the words that I’d wanted him to know. “I love you, Jamal Taylor. I don’t know if I always have, but I do know that I always will.”

  46

  Emily

  December 15, 2012

  I rolled over, so I could hold up my hand in the December morning light and appreciate this new gift on my finger. Even though I held my hand steady, the kaleidoscope of colors from the diamond ricocheted from the ring to the walls, creating a rainbow in our bedroom.

  Turning back over, I was surprised when I was met by the open eyes of my husband.

  “Good morning.” I smiled.

  Jamal pulled me into his arms. “This is more than a good morning. It’s the best morning that God has ever created.”

  Gently, I kissed his lips. “Welcome home, Mr. Taylor.”

  “I am so happy to be here, Doctor Harrington-Taylor.” He grinned. “So, I saw you checking out the ring to see if it’s real.”

  I laughed. “Not at all, though you know I’ve checked out the color, clarity, cut, and carat.”

  He laughed.

  “But even if it wasn’t the perfect diamond,” I said, “this is one of those situations where the sentiment is what matters.” I held up my hand again. The light didn’t hit the diamond at the right angle this time, so the colors stayed on the stone. But it was still amazingly beautiful.

  I said, “You know you didn’t have to buy me this, right?”

  “Okay, well then”—gently, he pulled at my finger—“let me take it back.”

  I snatched my hand away from him. “If you want to live to see your next birthday . . .”

  We laughed together before I settled back into his arms. It had been a long way to here, though some might say that ten weeks wasn’t that long at all. But for me and Jamal Taylor? It was an eternity.

  My husband had described it best in our first counseling sessions. “Not being with Emily is like being held captive in some corner of hell,” he said.

  It had been exactly that way for me, though at the time, I didn’t tell Jamal or Pastor Ford. I’d wanted them both to believe that I was fine and that I was hardly suffering without my husband. But if the walls in my bedroom could have talked, they would have told the truth.

  We were back together, though, all because of Jamal. Because my husband never gave up or gave in. Before counseling and during counseling, his faith was in me and our marriage. And now we were here.

  Another beginning.

  In our first counseling session, I’d told Jamal that I wasn’t ready to live with him. I was willing to go to counseling, but I wanted to be separated.

  That didn’t make him happy, but Pastor Ford suggested that we use our time apart to date each other.

  “Keep it open and easy,” she’d said.

  I took that to mean that we could keep the sex out of it, which was fine by me. I didn’t want to connect with Jamal in that way. Not with Miriam still dead-center in my thoughts.

  So Jamal and I met for walks on the beach, coffee at Starbucks. We had brunch at the Cheesecake Factory and hooked up for drinks at the Martini Bar. One day, we pretended that we were tourists and checked out the Hollywood Walk of Fame and Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. We hiked together, biked together, jogged together.

  We became friends all over again, just like we’d done the first time. Every day, my heart swelled with love, leaving little room for unforgiveness, even though there were days when I wanted to hold on to that. But I couldn’t. Love nudged the grudge aside.

  That’s why I’d decided to cook dinner last night. We’d been eating out and I wanted us to have more space to talk. We were a long way from getting back together. At least, that’s what I thought.

  Maybe subconsciously, I’d wanted something to happen. But in the best of my dreams, I didn’t think it was going to be something like this . . .

  I didn’t know why I was so nervous. It wasn’t like Jamal had never been here. We’d shared years of happiness inside these walls. And the shrimp creole that I’d made was one of his favorite dishes. So why did this feel like a first date with a stranger?

  Before I had a chance to reflect any more, the doorbell rang. Even though Jamal had his key, he was respectful of the boundaries we’d set.

  “Hey, you,” he said when I opened the door and he greeted me with a bouquet.

  “Hey, yourself,” I replied, taking the flowers. “And thank you.” Turning away from him, I added, “Dinner’s almost ready,” and I headed toward the kitchen to get a vase. “I made one of your favorites.” Looking over my shoulder, I expected to see Jamal following right behind me.

  But he was still by the door. Only he wasn’t standing. He was bending down; at least, that’s what I thought at first. Actually, he was down on one knee.

  I was just about to ask him what he was doing when he said, “Emily, I have always loved you. From that first moment, when you opened the door for Chauncey, our hearts connected. And like we always say, it took us a little while to find each other, but we did. And I’ve been so h
appy.”

  He paused, and I hoped that he didn’t expect me to say anything. I had lost all ability to think, so speaking wasn’t possible.

  “I’ve always been happy, Emily. You have to know that. I have loved you and our life together and if I could, I would pay any price to take back—”

  I didn’t let him finish. I knelt down in front of him and looked him in his eyes. “I know you would, Jamal. I really know that now.”

  Without taking his eyes from me, he reached into his pocket and held up this glistening thing. At first, that was all it was to me, until he took my hand and slid off the ring I was wearing. Then he slipped the new diamond onto my finger.

  I had to suck in a big gulp of air to keep breathing.

  He said, “Will you do me the honor—”

  “Yes!” I exclaimed.

  But he shook his head. “I need to finish this. I need to say it all.”

  “Okay,” I said, through the lump in my throat.

  He cleared his throat, took a breath, and exhaled the words slowly. “Will you do me the honor of showing me what true love is? Showing me what can happen when a man falls down and truly repents. Showing me a heart of forgiveness. Would you do me the honor of allowing me into your life and your love once again?”

  When he stopped, I didn’t say anything and he frowned.

  I said, “I just wanted to make sure you were finished this time.”

  “I am. So . . .” Then he swallowed, as if he was now concerned about my answer.

  Was this man kidding? After all we’d been through? All the painful counseling? Learning that while what had happened was all Jamal, there were so many things I could’ve done better, like not expecting my husband to be like Superman? Yes, Jamal was strong, but there was nothing wrong with weakness at times, and there had to be room for that. That was the greatest lesson that I’d learned from Pastor.

  I was so looking forward to getting to the good part—the next eight, and another eight, and another eight, and another eight years of a wonderful marriage.

  “Yes!” I shouted, and threw my arms around him.