A Mighty Love

by Anita Doreen Diggs

  Light snow flurries had started to fall by the time she and Mel reached Thirtieth Street and Ninth Avenue. They were pleased to see that the block was clean and the front door to the tenement was locked. The building faced Ninth Avenue above a video rental store and a Korean fruit-and-vegetable market. The doorbells were outside, and Adrienne rang the first one, labeled “Super.” A raspy voice came through the intercom. “State your business.”

  Adrienne was cold and tired. Her own voice was impatient as she replied, “We’re here to see the apartment.”

  There was no answer, but a minute later a short white man with a hairy potbelly that was bursting from a ragged T-shirt appeared in the vestibule. He had shaggy gray hair and a matching walrus mustache. A smelly cigar dangled from his lips, and a pair of bright-blue eyes stared at them suspiciously. Finally, he opened the glass door that separated them. Adrienne and Mel followed him inside. The hallway was clean, carpeted, and mercifully warm. The door to his apartment stood open. A TV game show was on, and Adrienne wondered if the man had a hearing problem, because the volume was up so high. He motioned toward his door, then pointed toward the back of the hallway.

  “Two apartments on each floor. I got one and a cop lives in the back. If you smoke dope, he’ll smell it.”

  “Why do white folks say dope when they mean reefer?” Mel whispered in her ear. “Sounds like he’s talking about heroin or something.”

  Adrienne giggled and poked Mel in the ribs to shush him as they climbed the stairs behind the portly superintendent. The vacant apartment was on the second floor, right above the super. He pulled out a huge ring of keys and, after several tries, found the one that opened the door.

  For Adrienne, it was love at first sight. The living room was huge, which made up for the two windows that faced the noisy front street. The master bedroom was spacious enough to hold a queen-size bed and a full set of furniture. Although the second room was tiny, it was big enough to hold a crib. The kitchen had a brand-new stove and refrigerator. The bathroom tiles were blue, her favorite color.

  Adrienne took a deep breath and made a silent vow. She would put the past behind them and have a new baby as soon as possible.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mel and Adrienne had been saving for a new apartment ever since they had returned to work. Each week, Mel had turned over a portion of his salary to Adrienne to hold for him. He had known that putting it in a bank account would be a mistake. They would give him an ATM card to access the money, and whenever he got high, he would pinch off the sum until it finally disappeared.

  As Mel dealt the cards for a game of bid whist, he thought about how his easy life at Debra’s house would soon be over. The lease had been signed, Adrienne was happy, and now Mel was beginning to panic. How could he erase Delilah’s death from his mind when Adrienne’s sad eyes were a constant reminder? How could he break Adrienne’s heart by not going back to her? Would things be the way they had been before Delilah was born?

  Mel was convinced that Adrienne would immediately start trying to get pregnant. To make matters worse, guilt ate at him so much that he was now popping antacid tablets, smoking two packs of cigarettes a day, and visiting Little Jimmy whenever he was the lucky winner in a card game. Even though Adrienne said she had forgiven him for causing the blaze, he had not forgiven himself. These and other thoughts swirled through Mel’s mind until his hands began to shake.

  “Come on, man, deal the damn cards! What’s wrong with you?” Big Boy shouted.

  Mel came out of his reverie with a start. Everyone except Lillian was staring at him impatiently.

  “Are you all right?” she asked softly. “You’re sweating.” There was warmth and concern in her voice and eyes.

  “I’m fine,” Mel answered gruffly. He ignored Debra’s questioning gaze, and she turned away. A minute later, Mel was forgotten amid the party atmosphere.

  After the game, Mel walked Lillian downstairs to help her get a cab. By the time it pulled away from the curb, her phone number was in his wallet.

  A week passed, and on the Friday evening before he and Adrienne were to resume their marriage, Mel called Lillian. He’d treat himself to one last fling before returning to the hard work of marriage. They arranged to meet for drinks at Beefsteak Charlie’s on Fifty-second Street and Eighth Avenue.

  When Mel got off the phone, he went to the bathroom to clean up. He looked in the mirror. He was forty years old and twenty-four hours away from a reconciliation, which frightened him. He shaved and then found some Visine in the medicine cabinet to clear his eyes. Then he showered, picked out his Afro, and greased his hands with Vaseline to pat it into a perfect ebony sphere.

  Lillian has a soft voice and a dainty way about her, he thought to himself. She knows I’m married, so I can relax and just have a good time.

  Lillian was inside the restaurant. She was wearing a sleeveless, low-cut, skin-tight royal blue satin dress. A fake fur coat was thrown over one arm. Her shoes were black stiletto heels. Mel hummed an old Teddy Pendergrass tune as he gave her a chaste little kiss on the cheek.

  “Do you remember that?” he asked.

  She nodded. “ ‘Close the Door.’ I used to love that song.”

  They smiled at each other, and Mel guided her to a table away from the window. He sat down beside her. Lillian’s hair looked different, but she only smiled mysteriously when he asked why.

  A waiter approached the table with a grin, gave them menus, then left. Mel looked meaningfully at Lillian. “I already know what I want.”

  Lillian frowned, and Mel quickly turned to concentrate on the menu. Maybe he was moving too fast. They read silently for a moment, and then Mel turned to her.

  “What you drinkin’ tonight, baby?”

  “Vodka. Straight up, no ice.”

  Hot damn, this is one tough woman! Mel thought. He signaled for the waiter. “Rum and coke for me. Straight vodka for the lady, and let me get the buffalo wings and potato skins.”

  The waiter scribbled furiously and then looked at Lillian. “Do you need more time, ma’am?”

  Lillian closed her menu with a snap. “No. I want the same thing.”

  As the waiter turned to leave, Mel told him, “Keep the drinks coming until we finish eating.” Lillian nodded her approval.

  “So, Big Boy say you gonna be movin’ soon.”

  In other words, was he going back to his wife? Damn, women thought they were so slick! “Yeah.”

  She played with the napkin on the side of her empty plate. “You goin’ back to your wife?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” he lied. “But I owe my wife a lot. Maybe somehow I can make it up to her.” He turned the conversation away from himself as the waiter returned with the food and drinks. “You ever been married?”

  “No. Ain’t never found nobody worth marryin’.”

  Mel threw back his head and laughed. “Is that right, Miz Lillian?”

  “That’s right. Most men nowadays expect the woman to take care of them. Not this lady!”

  Mel took a drink. She had a pretty smile. “Sheee-it, I doan blame you, girl. Fact is, if I was a woman, I wouldn’t work no place. I’d always have a man to take care o’ me.”

  Lillian gazed at him thoughtfully. “In other words, you don’t like workin’.”

  “Hell, no! Do you know anybody who does? I play the lottery every week. Soon as I hit, I’m gone!”

  That response seemed to satisfy her. She shrugged and took a sip of her drink.

  “Where do you work?” Mel asked.

  “I only been in New York a month. One of Big Boy’s friends got me a job down in the garment center. I sew ladies’ blouses.”

  She barely made minimum wage. A man would have to help pay her bills and buy groceries, Mel thought.

  “What about you? Big Boy say you a bus driver.”

  “Yeah. I work for the city.”

  “You got kids?”

  “No. Adrienne wants one, though.” Melvin felt a stab of pain in his
chest when Lillian mentioned children, and he took a huge gulp of his drink to make it go away. It wasn’t her fault that she’d hit a nerve. She was new in town. He was surprised that fat mouth Big Boy hadn’t told her about the tragedy. But Mel knew that he would soon enough.

  “Is Adrienne your wife?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Debra tole Big Boy that your wife is stupid—says she always got her head in the clouds.”

  Mel didn’t like that. Adrienne was smarter than any woman he’d ever met, and prettier, too. Adrienne’s only problem was that she’d had the bad luck to marry a man who was destined for failure. “Debra should mind her own business.”

  Lillian realized that she had said the wrong thing, and moved quickly to restore Mel’s good mood. “I got two sweet little girls, but they down South with my grandma.”

  Mel didn’t want to hear about anybody else’s kids. He started to eat and drink a little faster, and Lillian unconsciously followed his lead. They were both slightly drunk by the time the meal was over.

  After the waiter removed their plates, Mel kissed her lightly on the lips. She didn’t protest, so he got bolder. He slipped a hand underneath the table and between her heavy thighs. Lillian put her lips to his ear. “You got strong hands,” she whispered. That was all Mel needed to hear. He winked at her. She smiled her assent and stood up. Mel threw two twenty-dollar bills on the table and watched Lillian’s swishing blue satin ass as he helped her on with the fake fur coat. They left the warmth of the restaurant. After kissing and hugging under a streetlight, Mel hailed a cab to take them to the next step.

  Lillian’s studio apartment was located in a tenement only five blocks away from Debra’s place. They climbed the four flights of stairs to her place without saying anything. When Lillian opened the door, Mel sniffed the air. It smelled nice, and he realized that the fragrance came from a bouquet of fresh flowers that was in a vase on the wall unit. As soon as he sat down on the sofa, Lillian’s arms encircled his neck. “Are you seeing somebody besides that silly wife of yours?” Mel’s arms slid around her waist, and he pulled her so close, their bodies were crushed together as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Yeah, Miz Lillian. I’m seeing you.”

  The next morning, Mel woke up and immediately felt alarmed. All of a sudden, his words from the night before descended on him and began to replay inside his head. “I love you, Lillian. Will you be mine? Yes, I would definitely get married again!” Christ! The night before, he had said everything that a woman liked to hear, because it always made the sex hotter. But now she was clinking dishes and silverware in the kitchen. Worse, the smells of bacon and French toast were wafting into his nostrils. Smells of home. She was cooking breakfast for him just like a married woman would!

  Why the hell did single women start planning a wedding after one evening with a good-looking man? Some of them were smart, too. The most dangerous kind were like Lillian—women who pretended not to care about marriage. To make matters worse, they showed up on the afternoon talk shows complaining about men having all the power. Since when? Sheee-it, women were the most devious creatures on earth. All of them. It was the one thing black men had in common with white dudes. They were all at the mercy of these goddamned scheming women. Mel sniffed the air. Yeah, she was working hard in that kitchen.

  He thought frantically. Maybe he could pretend to be unconscious so he wouldn’t have to eat breakfast with her. No, that was ridiculous. She’d only call an ambulance, and the paramedics would know he was bullshitting. In the kitchen, Lillian started to sing a quiet, contented song.

  He looked at the clock on the wall. It was 8:15, time to stop this nonsense before it got out of hand. He had to get the moving van and pick up Adrienne at nine.

  He looked around the room for an escape route. There were two small windows that he would never fit through. The front door was too close to the kitchen, and to reach it he’d have to get off the sofa bed, get dressed, quietly ease the security chain off the door, and flee while Lillian was bustling about in plain view.

  He sat straight up in the sofa bed, clutching the sheet to his chin with both hands. His knuckles were starting to hurt. Mel released the sheet and took a deep breath. He was beginning to panic, and if Lillian were to peek into the room, he would make a sorry sight. He quietly lay back down and shut his eyes. Pretending to be asleep was his best bet. That way he could figure out what lie to tell her without fear of interruption. A few minutes later, the plan was firm in his mind. He yawned loudly and called her name. She appeared instantly, wearing a black slip that he hadn’t seen the night before. Her hair was neatly combed into place and there was bright red lipstick on her smiling mouth. Mel felt his own lips turn down at the corners. It was time to go.

  “Breakfast is almost ready,” she sang.

  He tried to look surprised and regretful at the same time. “Aw, baby. I’m sorry. I have to take Adrienne to the dentist this morning.”

  Her lower lip poked out just a little, but then she shrugged. “Okay.”

  What the hell did she mean by okay? He didn’t remember asking her permission to leave. Mel climbed out of the sofa bed and, without saying another word, reached for his clothes, which were lying in a heap on the floor. Then he headed for the shower. Adrienne’s face flashed before him, and he hung his head in shame for a second. He’d had his last fling. There would be no more nights with other women. It was time for him to be a faithful husband once more.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Adrienne stepped out of the shower and grabbed a fluffy white towel. As she dried off, she surveyed her body, trying to see it through Mel’s eyes. In the past six months she’d lost about ten pounds, and it seemed as if her breasts were a little smaller because of it. At least my thighs are still firm and my butt is nice and round, she thought to herself. Adrienne lotioned her skin and dressed in underwear, a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. She pulled a brush through her brown hair and let it hang loose to her shoulders.

  She stared at her reflection. Would Delilah still be alive if she had not gone to have her hair done that fateful day last July? It hadn’t been absolutely necessary for her to leave the house that day. What if she hadn’t prolonged her stay in the city by stopping by Dan’s place? If she hadn’t left her tired and sleepy husband alone in the apartment. A man so exhausted that he’d fallen asleep with a lit cigarette between his fingers.

  Adrienne left the bathroom, breathing deeply to steady herself as she walked. Today was moving day and she was a bundle of nerves. Thinking about the past too long might push her back to that emotional space from right after the fire, when she was deep in depression and could not speak. She couldn’t afford to return to that place.

  Dan and Charlene were already dressed. Charlene was almost as tall as Dan. She wore her black hair in shoulder-length braids and usually wore a headband to keep them away from her face. Charlene never wore makeup and had little interest in the latest fashion. She practically lived in slacks, loafers, and oversized cotton shirts. Right now her plain face was scrunched up in concern. Her thin lips were in a straight line of disapproval—or wariness. Adrienne couldn’t tell which it was. They looked up from the sofa when Adrienne walked into the living room. Dan’s eyes were serious. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Adrienne sat down. “Wonderful,” she lied. “Mel should be here any minute!”

  “I just want you to know that I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

  “Dan, lighten up. Mel and I are putting the past behind us. Everything is going to be fine.” Seeing Dan shrug, Adrienne continued, “We both know it isn’t going to be easy.”

  “I just wish you guys had gone for some counseling, that’s all,” said Charlene.

  “Maybe it would have made things worse. Mel says a lot of times marriages end in divorce after the couple starts therapy.”

  Charlene looked doubtful. “How has poor Mel coped with his sadness over the past six months?”

  “What do you mean?”

>   “I mean just that. Mel may still be running away from his grief. The last time he was here, I could tell he’d been drinking.”

  Adrienne started to feel warm. Charlene was her girl, but she was also a social worker, and it seemed as if she was always analyzing everyone around her.

  Adrienne jumped up from the love seat and walked across to the sofa, with her arms folded across her chest. “Drop it.”

  “Don’t get mad at me, Adrienne,” Charlene answered defensively. “Mel is carrying a heavy emotional burden, and he needs to get some help.”

  “Mel and I just need to be with each other. We’ve both agreed not to talk about what happened. Never again.”

  “I know, Adrienne, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you and Mel to avoid the subject forever,” Dan said mildly.

  “Honey, Dan’s right,” Charlene interjected. “Not talking about it will tear the two of you apart.”

  Adrienne said nothing.

  Dan threw up his hands. “Fine. Let’s get to work and finish taping all these boxes.”

  Adrienne was still fuming. “Are you suggesting that Mel is an alcoholic?” she asked Charlene.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Charlene protested wearily.

  Dan stood up, lifted Adrienne’s chin, and stared directly into her eyes. “I don’t know whether Mel has a drinking problem or not, but I do know that you two need to talk about what happened. Adrienne, you can’t shop your pain away.”

  Adrienne jerked her chin away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said defiantly. Dan was starting to sound like Charlene. In another minute he would give her some dime-store psychoanalysis, that the purchases she made were little representations of Delilah, or some such nonsense.

  Dan waved one arm around the living room in a sweeping gesture. “Look at this! Clothes with the tags still on. CDs that have never been played, dozens of makeup kits, books that you haven’t read yet. Every week you find something else to buy.”