Never Say Never

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “Anyway, I’m heading back to the hospital now.”

  “How long do you think you’ll be there?” In the past, I would’ve asked Emily that question with interest as her friend. But now I’d asked that question with interest as her husband’s lover.

  She said, “Just a few more days. I expect to be home Monday or Tuesday. And then you, me, and Michellelee will have to get together.”

  “That sounds great,” I said in a tone that sounded like I had just pleaded guilty to murder.

  I should’ve been more careful because this was Emily. She asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I squeaked. “Just tired.”

  Another pause. Then, “I hear that,” she said, as if she’d bought my excuse. “But soon, I’ll be there to help you with whatever you need. Every day. You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

  She laughed and I wanted to break down and cry.

  She said, “Okay, girl, I’ll check in with you over the weekend; can’t wait to see you and the boys.”

  “Okay, that’ll be good.”

  “I’m gonna think of something fun the six of us can do.” Then she spoke quickly. “Okay, gotta go, girl. Love you!”

  “Mean it,” I barely got out.

  The dial tone was a blessing. Emily had been killing me softly. With every word, I was dying just a little more.

  The Worst Person in the World award belonged to me. Or maybe it was the Most Confused award, because from the bottom of my heart, I still loved Emily.

  My tears were falling before I fell back onto the couch. I hadn’t cried in so long, not since Jamal had practically moved in with me. But now I cried because no matter what was going to happen, this was going to end one day. And it would end badly.

  I jumped when I felt the soft hand on my shoulder.

  “Junior! Oh, my God,” I said, still crying. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  He sat down next to me and put his arms around my shoulders. “Mom, are you thinking about Dad?”

  I nodded because I didn’t want to lie to my son out loud. As he hugged me, I held him back. What was I going to do? Lord, Lord, what was I going to do?

  28

  Emily

  Dr. Caster stood for a moment, studying the pictures pinned on the hospital wall. There had to be at least twenty-five pieces of paper that I had put around LaTonya’s bed. Pictures that LaTonya had drawn of her and her parents, most of which didn’t include her sister.

  “You’re a very pretty little girl,” Dr. Caster said to LaTonya as he rolled one of the chairs closer to her bed.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice sounding as small as she was.

  I felt like LaTonya was about to take a final exam, but I wasn’t concerned. She would pass. Not that this was a test. I could sign the papers to have LaTonya released, but Dr. Caster had extended a tremendous professional courtesy by letting LaTonya stay and I wanted him to be part of the process.

  “So, you’re feeling good this morning?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes,” LaTonya said softly.

  Quickly, I glanced at LaTonya’s parents standing by the door, holding hands as usual. Whatever they had to handle, they were going to handle it together. Just like me and Jamal.

  “So,” Dr. Caster’s voice brought my attention back. “Doctor H tells me that you drew this picture.” He lifted the colorful paper from the bedside table.

  LaTonya nodded.

  “This is really nice.”

  She nodded again.

  “Tell me about the picture.”

  LaTonya looked, and I smiled. “Go ahead, sweetie.”

  She took the paper from Dr. Caster’s hand. “This is a picture of me and my mommy and my daddy,” she said, glancing up at her parents. “This is our house.”

  The doctor nodded. “Wow, that’s a big house.”

  “Uh-huh. We live in a big house,” she said softly.

  Across the room, Mr. Miller chuckled, and I wanted to leap at that first sound of joy that I’d heard from him since we’d met. It made my heart happy.

  “So, I see the grass and the cars and the streetlights,” Dr. Caster said. “You’re a good little artist.”

  The ends of her lips twitched, but that was it. As if there was something inside that just wouldn’t let her smile.

  Then he pointed to the top of the page. “What’s this?”

  “The sky, and a cloud.”

  “So, you’re in front of the house and you’re on the cloud, too?”

  She shook her head and her voice got even softer. “I’m in front of the house. That’s LaTrisha on the cloud.”

  “Oh, I thought that was you.”

  LaTonya said, “No, that’s my sister. We’re twins.”

  “Why is your sister on the cloud?”

  LaTonya pressed her lips together and lowered her eyes. There was a moment of such silence that I could hear the second hand moving on my watch.

  Then, “ ’Cause LaTrisha went to heaven to be with Jesus and Grandpa. And she’s on the cloud ’cause she’s an angel now.”

  “Wow! You have your own angel.”

  She nodded. “She’s going to take care of us from heaven and I’m going to take care of Mommy and Daddy from down here.”

  For the first time, Dr. Caster had a genuine smile. That was good—I didn’t want him to think that LaTonya had been coached in any way. All I’d done was counsel her. For the last seven days, we’d been drawing and talking and reading. Her responses were 100 percent LaTonya, though getting there hadn’t been easy. Some of our sessions were so sad, I didn’t think that LaTonya would ever stop crying. But the tears had slowly stopped and I was now convinced that LaTonya, though still quite sad about her sister, wouldn’t be attempting any more trips to heaven.

  “That’s really good, LaTonya. So, are you sad about your sister?”

  Her eyes moved from me to her parents before she nodded. “But Doctor H. said it’s okay to be sad. And that one day, I’ll be happy.”

  The doctor reached forward and patted her hand before he stood and pushed his chair back. “Okay, young lady, I’m going to talk to Doctor H. for a minute. You’ll be okay here with your mom and dad, right?”

  “Yes, and they’ll be okay with me.”

  I smiled proudly as I followed the doctor from the room. We walked side by side, silently, and then inside his office, the doctor directed me toward the chair I’d sat in just a week ago.

  “Well, either you’re one great doctor or that was some kind of a miraculous recovery.”

  I smiled. “I’d like to think it was a little bit of both.”

  He shook his head. “Seven days ago, she was talking about committing suicide.” I held up my hand and he rephrased. “She was talking about going to heaven. What changed?”

  “This is what I do, Doctor Caster. I help children see their lives in a different way. Seven days ago, LaTonya thought she had to be with her sister. Now, she believes she has to stay here.”

  He shook his head. “Is this permanent?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. The only difference between LaTonya and other”—I paused, because I hated saying this word—“suicidal patients is that she’s six. I would tend to believe her over an adult who knows what to say to be released.”

  “It’s still quite a turnaround.”

  For a moment, I thought about telling the doctor that I may have had a little help. I thought about sharing the session where LaTonya told me that God and her sister had come down from heaven and that God told her she had to stay with her parents.

  But I could imagine the doctor’s reaction; he’d think a child seeing God might be reason enough to put LaTonya into an institution. So I said nothing, though I knew with all my heart what LaTonya told me was the truth. I didn’t know if she had a dream or a vision. Whatever it was, from that day, she’d changed, and that could only have been God.

  “Well, Doctor Harrington, if you say that she’s fine, do your report and I’ll sign it.�
�

  I stood. “Thank you, Doctor Caster.”

  “So, what’s your plan of action?”

  “I’ll put the whole plan in my report, but she’ll stay under my care every day for the next month, and then I’ll see where I go from there.”

  He nodded and walked me to the door. “Well, good luck, Doctor Harrington.”

  I waited until I was out of his view before I raised my arm and flicked my wrist. If I’d had a ball in my hand, it would’ve been nothing but net.

  I strutted down the hall with confidence and happiness. LaTonya was going home, and I was, too.

  Both my thumbs were raised high in the air when I walked back into LaTonya’s room, and the Millers grinned before they hugged each other. There was still so much this young couple had to deal with, but their angels, LaTonya and LaTrisha, would see them through.

  “There’s just some paperwork that has to be filled out, but in a few hours, all three of you will be going home.”

  The Millers kissed and then kissed their daughter. After all this tragedy, I wanted to stand there and soak all of this in, but my cell phone buzzed and I tiptoed out of the room. Checking out the caller ID, I smiled.

  “Hey, Michellelee. Perfect timing.”

  “Perfect for what?”

  “I’m going home today.”

  “Oh, you’re still at the hospital?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll be home in a few hours and back in my office tomorrow.”

  “Terrific, we have to get together now. But I was calling to see if you’d spoken to Miriam?”

  “Not since last week; I called her right after I spoke to you. Why?”

  “Well, you know I speak to her every day, but she hasn’t answered her phone or called me back since I saw her on Saturday. She wasn’t even in church on Sunday.”

  Right away, my thoughts went to the last time I’d spoken to Miriam and how she sounded, almost despondent.

  “I haven’t spoken to her since last week. And now—”

  “What?” Michellelee asked me.

  “She acted strange. I asked her about the guy you told me about and she became so flustered. At one point, I was worried that she was going to burst into tears.”

  “She was acting weird with me, too, but I figured it was because I’d caught her. I thought maybe I’d embarrassed her, but putting what I saw with what you heard . . .”

  “Well, now I’m really worried. Have you been by her house?”

  “No, but don’t worry. I’ll head there now.”

  “That’s a long drive for you. You don’t have to get to the studio?” I asked, wondering if I was the one who should try to find her since I lived closer.

  “I do, but I’ll just swing by her place, do a sister check, make sure she’s good, then call you back.”

  “Okay, and tell her to call me.”

  “Will do. Talk to you later. Love you.”

  “Mean it.”

  When I hung up, I stood still for a moment, wondering about Miriam. I pressed the button to call her, but then Dr. Caster passed by and when he turned into LaTonya’s room, I followed him.

  Michellelee would check on Miriam for now, and once I left here, I’d be able to check on her every day.

  As I entered LaTonya’s room, I dumped my cell phone into my purse. It was time to get LaTonya home, so that I could move on with my life, too.

  29

  Miriam

  I stared at the phone as if it were a rabid dog.

  Ring!

  I recognized the number, and even if I didn’t, I could certainly read the name across the screen.

  Ring!

  Jamal Taylor.

  This was the call that I’d been waiting for. All I wanted to do was snatch it up and hear his voice since I hadn’t heard it for three days. Not since Michellelee had invaded our utopia and brought us crashing down to earth.

  Ring!

  Suppose it wasn’t him, though. Last time his name came across my screen, it was Emily.

  Ring!

  But if it were Jamal and I let this phone ring one more time, I would miss him.

  Grabbing the phone, I held my breath.

  “Miriam.”

  I closed my eyes and just savored his voice. “Jamal!”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” I said, and I resisted adding, “now that you’ve called.”

  “I wanted to know . . . if you had any time today. I wanted, needed to talk to you.”

  “Okay,” was all I said, even though I had so many questions: where have you been, why haven’t you called, and what do you want to talk about?

  He said, “The boys are in school.”

  His statement was really a question. “Yes.”

  “Okay, I’m not far away.”

  Then he was gone. Leaving me with nothing but questions and fear. I sat on the edge of the sofa, with my knees together and my hands clasped, feeling like I was frozen in time and space.

  I’d been feeling this way since Jamal had left on Saturday. Since then, I hadn’t done anything except take care of my children and breathe. I hadn’t left the house, I hadn’t answered the phone. I’d just stayed in bed mostly, watching the clock pass time and waiting for the right call to come.

  Well, the call had come, but with the way Jamal sounded, with what he said, with what he didn’t say . . .

  “Oh, God,” I whispered.

  If I didn’t stop, I’d be a madwoman by the time Jamal arrived. I jumped up. I needed to get out of these sweatpants and T-shirt. Maybe put on a dress or fix my hair. But then I sat back down. None of that would make a difference.

  So I sat and waited. Listened to the clock tick and waited. Counted the number of cars that drove by and waited.

  Then I heard Jamal’s car. Not that it had any special sound. It was just that I knew.

  Still, I didn’t move. I waited for the single honk, his signal for me to open the garage so that our cars could change places. The honk that we’d been doing all last week. There was no honk.

  I stood, closed my eyes, and wished that I could talk to God. But all I did was take a deep breath to steady myself. Then I hurried to the garage. I pushed the remote, the garage door lifted, and Jamal’s car was where it normally was. But he was already out, walking toward me.

  It was clear; he didn’t have any plans to stay, and sadness began to rise in me. I wanted to cry already.

  I managed to speak with an even voice. “Hey.” I stepped aside, letting him come in through the garage door, and when he walked past me, I remembered the last time. He’d met me right in this spot and pulled me into his arms. But today his hands were deep in his pockets like they were on lockdown.

  “How are you?” he asked me once I closed the door behind him.

  I nodded. “I’m good.” Again, I stopped without saying all that was on my heart.

  He stood at one end of the living room and I was at the other.

  “We can at least sit down, right?” I asked him.

  He nodded, but when I sat on the couch, he sat across from me in the chair in front of the window.

  That sent my emotions reeling, but I took charge and pressed down the fear, the regret, the rejection, and everything else that was bubbling inside.

  He said, “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am—”

  I didn’t let him finish. “I told you before, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

  “There is. I created a complete mess.”

  “You didn’t do it by yourself. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

  He shook his head. “But you were vulnerable.”

  “So were you.”

  He held up his hands. “Please, let me talk.”

  I nodded, then squeezed my knees together not only to stop them from shaking but also to squelch the desire that was building just by seeing Jamal, just by hearing him.

  “I really do feel like I took advantage of you, and though I know it’s no excuse, being with you made me miss Cha
uncey less. I’ve tried to really think about it, tried to understand it. All I can say is you filled that hole that was ripped into my heart the moment I dragged Chauncey out of that building.”

  I couldn’t keep quiet anymore. “That’s how I feel about you. You took away most of my sadness.”

  He shook his head. “But still, we shouldn’t have been . . . doing what we were doing. I should’ve been the grown-up in the room.”

  I leaned back, surprised by his words, but then I relaxed when the ends of his lips twitched into a slight smile.

  He explained, “What I mean is, I should’ve been the one who kept my head.”

  “I don’t know why you’re saying this when I wanted this as much, probably more than, you did,” I said.

  Jamal covered his face with his hands and breathed deeply. “This is a mess, you know. It’s a mess because”—he looked up and stared at me so intensely—“I love Emily.”

  I tried not to flinch, even though if he had slashed my heart with a machete, I would’ve hurt less than the way I felt hearing those words.

  Then he repeated it. “I love my wife.”

  Why did he keep saying that? Didn’t he know how much he was hurting me? But then how could I be hurt? How could I be mad? Jamal was doing what he was supposed to do: loving his wife, and telling me the truth.

  “I love my wife,” he said, as if he needed to say it again, “but I don’t know how to end this with you.”

  Suddenly, the slashes in my heart didn’t feel so deep.

  I said, “Remember when you told me that we didn’t have to figure this out right now? Maybe we can take our time and let this work itself out.”

  “We are working this out,” he said. “Right now. Because it’s so wrong and because too many people could get hurt.” He released a quick breath. “Michellelee told Emily you’re seeing someone.”

  “I know. Emily called and asked me a lot of questions.” When he stared at me, I shook my head. “I didn’t say anything.”

  He nodded. His voice was strong when he said, “My wife can’t be hurt, so this has to end.” Then he spoke in a whisper when he added, “Now.”

  What I should’ve done was just stood up and agreed. Hugged Jamal and told him good-bye.

  I just couldn’t.

  “But you’re like a lifeline for me,” I said, hating my words, hating my emotions, hating the fact that I’d become the begging other woman.