“Oh,” the doctor said, looking from Emily to me. “Were you called?”
And then there was a wail. A screech, really, that was so sharp, it sliced my heart.
All three of us turned our eyes toward the sound that came from behind a closed door marked “Quiet Room.”
It took a few seconds for Emily to compose herself and get back to her business. “No, we weren’t called,” she said. “We heard . . . about the fire.” She paused and turned to me before adding, “Our husbands were probably at the school. My husband is Jamal Taylor and hers is Chauncey Williams.”
The doctor repeated their names and nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out, Doctor Harrington,” and then he rushed away.
That’s exactly what I wanted to do, rush away and go home. My eyes were on the door of the Quiet Room as I said, “Listen, Emily. I’m going to—”
“Emily! Miriam!”
We both turned as Michellelee hurried toward us. “I went to the school, but Cynthia was already set up,” she said, referring to another reporter from her station. “So I told them that I would see what was happening over here.” She looked at Emily and then at me. “Have you heard anything?”
Only Emily responded. “Nothing yet. What did you find out?”
It was the way that Michellelee lowered her eyes and shook her head that made me want to cover my ears.
“All I know is that there were a lot of casualties.”
I did everything I could to keep my eyes away from Emily. I didn’t want her to see what I was thinking; I was so afraid for her husband.
“Okay,” Emily said, her drawl more pronounced, showing me just how scared she really was. “That’s horrible, but it doesn’t mean that it’s Jamal or Chauncey.” She nodded as if that motion was helping her to stay composed.
I knew that I needed to stay right here, at the hospital with Emily. But more than needing to be here, I needed to go home. I had to get myself together so that I could be strong for Emily if it came to her needing me. I wouldn’t be able to be strong if I stayed here in front of this Quiet Room.
“Listen.” The word squeaked out of me. “I’m going to—”
“Emily!”
The three of us swung around, at first standing there in shock. Jamal ran toward us, but we were still frozen; at least, Michellelee and I were.
Emily shrieked and then made a mad dash for Jamal, although that’s not really how it felt to me. This was playing out like one of those Hallmark commercials where the lovers race toward each other in slow motion.
I watched my best friend wrap her arms around her husband before Jamal swept her from the floor and into his arms.
“Oh, my God,” Emily said. “Thank God.”
Finally, I found my legs and rushed over to Jamal. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” I said.
It must’ve been the sound of my voice that made him open his eyes. Slowly. Emily slid down his body and Jamal faced me. The tears in his eyes made me frown.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Were you hurt?”
“Are one of you Mrs. Williams?” someone asked over my shoulder. “The wife of Chauncey Williams.”
But before I had a chance to turn around, Jamal whispered my name. “Miriam.”
It was the way he said it that stopped me cold. “What?”
“Miriam,” he said again, this time shaking his head, this time releasing a single tear from the corner of his eye.
My heart started pounding before my brain connected to what was happening.
“Mrs. Williams.”
This time, I turned to face the voice. “Yes,” I whispered.
“I’m Doctor Adams. Would you mind coming with me, please?”
“Where?” It was hard for me to speak through lips that were suddenly too dry.
“Over here.” The doctor pointed across the hall. To the Quiet Room.
I shook my head. “I’m not going in there.” Turning back to Jamal, I said, “Please. Please. Where’s Chauncey?”
His eyes drooped with sadness as he shook his head again.
“Is Chauncey back at the fire station?” I cried.
“Mrs. Williams.”
The doctor called my name at the same time Jamal said, “Miriam. I am so, so sorry.”
I felt Michellelee’s arm go around me. I heard Emily’s sob as she took my hand.
But it wasn’t until the doctor began, “Mrs. Williams, I’m sorry to have to tell you this but . . .” that I understood.
“No!” I heard a scream so sharp that I knew it couldn’t have come from me, even though it rang in my ears. “No.” I released my pain again.
Jamal stepped to me. “Miriam, I’m so sorry. But Chauncey . . . he died.”
That was when my world ended. Because just like I said, if Chauncey was gone, then I’d have to go, too. So right there, I let it go. My whole world stopped. I just let it all fade to black.
2
Emily Harrington-Taylor
The bedroom was almost midnight dark, even though the sun still shone outside. But I’d closed the mini-blinds and drawn the drapes, wanting to give Miriam complete rest since I wasn’t sure when she’d sleep again. I was pretty sure the only reason she was sleeping now was because of total shock. My hope was that she wouldn’t wake up for days so that she wouldn’t have to face this.
I shifted in the worn, oversized chair, keeping my eyes on my best friend. Well, I couldn’t exactly see her, at least not well. But my eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I could make out her form on the bed. For just a moment, I closed my eyes, trying again to pray, but the burning behind my lids from unshed tears made me open them quickly.
Still, I whispered, “Thank you, God,” and like before, guilt struck me like lightning.
How could I thank God for saving Jamal when Chauncey was gone?
I moaned, then covered my lips. But then I realized that the sound hadn’t come from me. Another moan; I jumped up and in three strides I was standing at the edge of the bed.
“Miriam,” I whispered, just in case she was still asleep.
Slowly she rolled over and I turned on the nightstand lamp. As I sat on the edge of the bed, I could see the confusion in Miriam’s reddened eyes.
“Em?” Then she glanced over her shoulder. “Where’s Chauncey?”
At first I paused, not quite sure of what to say. But before I had to figure it out, I saw the memory of the tragedy flood Miriam’s eyes and her tears flowed right away.
“Oh, God!” she sobbed. “I was hoping this had just been a nightmare.”
“I know,” was the only thing I could think to say.
“Em, how am I supposed to do this? To live without Chauncey? What are the boys and I going to do?”
Too many questions, and no answers. So, I did the only thing I could. I pulled Miriam into my arms and held her as she cried. And I cried with her.
The door to her bedroom opened and over Miriam’s shoulder, I saw Michellelee tiptoeing in. But once she saw me holding Miriam, she rushed over, jumped onto the bed, and wrapped her arms around both of us.
Michellelee and I were a human ball of protection around Miriam, a wall of Ralph Lauren pants and St. John’s skirts, but even though we held her as tightly as we could, it wasn’t enough. I knew it wasn’t enough because it wouldn’t have been enough for me. Nothing would be enough if I were to ever lose Jamal.
After a while, Miriam inhaled a deep breath and Michellelee and I pulled back. But not too much, because if she started crying again, I wanted to be right there.
“This doesn’t even feel real,” Miriam said.
“I know.” Michellelee reached for Miriam’s hand. “It doesn’t feel real to me either.”
I took Miriam’s other hand, but said nothing. Not that I had to; we were all so close that most of the time, no words were needed.
“Oh, God!” Miriam said suddenly and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“What’s wrong?” Michellelee and I spoke at the
same time.
“I’ve got to get the boys.”
“Jamal went to get them, remember?” I said.
Her brows bunched together, and then she nodded. “I guess I forgot. I’m a bit confused.”
If it had been me, I would’ve been a lot more than confused. I ran my hand over Miriam’s hair, which had been smoothed back into a bun, exposing the patch of white hair along the left side of her forehead.
“What am I going to tell them?” Miriam whispered, and her tone let me know that new tears weren’t far away.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’re going to help you. Jamal and I.”
“And me,” Michellelee piped in.
Miriam nodded. “Okay.” She paused. “But I still don’t know what we’re going to say. Especially to Junior. He was Chauncey’s shadow, you know.” She sobbed. “He wanted to grow up to be just like his dad.”
I leaned forward to let Miriam fall against me once again.
Michellelee said, “Miriam, please don’t cry,” even though tears were streaking down her cheeks. “We’re here. Remember, we’re the Red, White, and Blue,” she added, referring to the name some guy had given us at a frat party our sophomore year. The guy was drunk and the name had stuck.
Miriam sniffed and looked from me to Michellelee. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
“We have,” I said.
Miriam said, “I’ve known you guys half my life. And you’ve always been there for me.”
“Just like you’ve always been there for us,” I said.
“Well . . . not always.” Miriam looked down and away from me.
“That was a long time ago,” I said, knowing exactly what Miriam was talking about. The thing that almost made me quit our friendship. When she had lost her mind when I told her that I was interested in Jamal.
But even though we’d come close to turning from friends to enemies, we’d worked through it, exactly the way women who were meant to be best friends for life were supposed to.
“Yeah, and we’ve had a lot more ups than downs,” Michellelee said, wanting to shift the conversation away from bad memories.
“Yes,” I said. “We graduated together.”
“And started our careers together,” Michellelee added.
“Or in my case,” Miriam said, “started my family.” She shook her head. “You guys were always there.”
“That’s what sisters are for,” Michellelee and I said together.
After a moment of silence, I said, “We’ve done everything together, so we’re not going to leave you now, Miriam. You can count on us.”
There was a quick knock on the door and Jamal stepped in. I breathed deeply, with relief, wondering if I would do that every time I saw my husband. Though I always knew Jamal’s job put him in daily danger, that was never my concern. I’d decided long ago that there were only two things I could do about my husband’s job: I could worry or I could pray. I wasn’t going to waste my time doing both. So I’d chosen prayer, believing that involving God was far better for my soul and my sanity. Once that decision was made, every day I would send up a prayer of protection when Jamal left home and then give a prayer of thanksgiving when he returned twenty-four hours later.
But now, seeing Jamal, and experiencing that deep feeling of relief, made me wonder if my heart had changed. Would I now be filled with fear?
“Hey,” Jamal said, looking at me with a slight smile, like he was glad to see me, too. He hugged me, though our embrace lasted for only a second. Then he squeezed Michellelee’s hand before he knelt in front of Miriam. “The boys are here,” he said softly.
Miriam asked, “Did you tell them?”
There was a bit of hope in Miriam’s voice. As if she hoped Jamal had already delivered the news.
“No.” He shook his head. “I thought you’d want to do that.” Then he rephrased his words. “I thought you should be the one . . . to tell them.”
Miriam nodded. “But . . . I don’t know how . . .”
Before she could finish, Jamal took her hands in his. “We’re here, we’ll tell them together.”
“You’ll stay?”
The hope, the doubt, the fear, the pain that was all wrapped together in those two words broke my heart into a million little pieces.
“Of course,” Jamal said, then he glanced over his shoulder at me and I nodded.
“Thank you,” she said. “I couldn’t do this by myself.”
“Don’t worry,” Jamal said. “It’ll be—” He stopped short of saying it would be fine, then added, “We’re all here for you.” Jamal rose to his feet. “I’m going to get back out there. The boys think I picked them up because their dad had to work an extra shift.”
“Okay. I need a minute to make sure that I don’t bust out crying the moment I see them.”
“Take your time.” Jamal moved toward the door.
“I’m going with you,” Michellelee said. “I’ll see if the boys want a snack or something.”
“That’s a good idea,” Miriam said. “Thanks.”
“Right after that, though, I have to leave. I have to get to the studio.” Her apology was inside her tone. “Is that okay?”
“Of course,” Miriam said. “You have to go to work. Life goes on . . . right?”
Michellelee hugged her.
“Are you going to be reporting on the fire?” Miriam asked.
She nodded. “It’s the lead story. But I’ll come right back here after I get off.” Michellelee rubbed Miriam’s back for an extra moment, then hugged me before she followed Jamal out of the bedroom.
I waited until the door was closed before I told Miriam, “You can do this. And it’s okay if you cry.”
“I have to be strong for the boys. They’re going to be devastated.”
“I know. But like Jamal said, he and I and Michellelee will be here for you and the boys. And you know, our pastor will be here, and Chauncey’s family, and so many other people who love you and the boys.”
Miriam’s brown eyes were glassy, but even behind her tears, I saw her relief. As if she was just beginning to understand that she was not alone. “Okay. I can do this.”
I reached for her hand and helped her stand. She swayed just a bit, as if she wasn’t standing on solid ground. I tightened my grasp. “I got you,” I whispered.
“Thank you.” Then after taking just two steps, she turned and hugged me, wrapping her arms around my waist since I was so much taller than she was. “I love you, Em,” she said.
Okay, that was it. I wasn’t going to make it. All I wanted to do was sit right there in the middle of the bedroom and bawl like a baby. But I blinked rapidly, to keep back my tears and hold back my grief. “I love you, too, Miriam. Jamal and I love you and the boys. And we’re here with you. Forever.”
“Forever,” she whispered as she stepped away from our embrace.
“Forever,” I repeated, and then added, “No matter what.”
When the edges of Miriam’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, I told her, “I promise.” Then, I took her hand and led her out of the bedroom.
3
Miriam
When people looked at Emily, Michellelee, and me, no one ever said that I was the prettiest; that was a toss-up between Emily and Michellelee. Or that I was the smartest, another toss-up that probably didn’t include me. I’m not putting myself down, I’m just being honest. I know my weaknesses, but I also know my strengths. And one of my strengths, one thing that I could do better than Emily and Michellelee: I could act my butt off.
I’d been part of the Black Thespians at USC and always received resounding ovations at the end of my performances. Whether I was Lady Macbeth during our summer Shakespeare festivals or Dorothy in our own rendition of The Wiz, I was respected by the audiences and by my peers.
So many told me that I should take my dreams and my skills to Hollywood, though I never took them seriously. I mean, yeah, I was talented enough, but Hollywood had little to do with tale
nt. It was all about how you looked. Not only am I African American, I am a short, stocky black girl who is a realist. There was no place for me in that superficial industry and I wasn’t about to go on auditions and get my feelings hurt.
But today, at this moment, I was using every bit of the talent I had as I faced my sons.
“Mom, where were you?” my youngest son, Stevie, said as I stepped into the kitchen.
“Uncle Jamal told you she was taking a nap,” Mikey, my middle child, answered before I could say a word.
Stevie glared at his brother before he turned to me. “You were sleeping in the middle of the day?”
“That’s what a nap is, dummy!”
I was just about to scold Mikey, but Jamal jumped in.
“Hey, Mikey, you’re the big bro, remember? Remember what I told you? You don’t want to talk to your brother like that.”
Mikey poked out his bottom lip and even though he sat at the table all the way across the room, I could see his long lashes as he lowered his eyes. The kind of eyelashes that women paid for. Eyelashes just like his father’s.
A sob rose up in me, but I held it back as I took in all of my sons. My two youngest boys sat at the kitchen table with their schoolbooks and an opened package of graham crackers in front of them, while Junior (who hadn’t looked up yet) sat at one of the barstools at the counter.
The scene unfolded like just another ordinary end-of-school day. This was what it would look like when Chauncey picked up the boys and then sat with them as they did their homework.
It wasn’t until I saw Jamal staring at me that I realized that my bottom lip was trembling. I sucked it between my teeth, but I couldn’t stop the rest of my body from shaking.
“Uh, boys,” Jamal said, though his eyes stayed on me. “Can you come with me and your mom into the living room?”
I hadn’t even thought about where I was going to tell them this news. The living room was definitely better than the kitchen.
“Can I finish my homework?” Stevie asked. “ ’Cause last year, I got all A’s and Mikey didn’t.”
Never Say Never Page 2
