A Mighty Love

by Anita Doreen Diggs

  He stood in the middle of the street, wondering where to turn as car horns blared around him. He walked west until he reached the Hudson River. As he looked down into the deceptively calm waters, a voice in his head told him to jump. Mel backed away from the river. He rushed back to Columbus Avenue and stood on Ninety-third Street feeling incredibly tired of the struggle that was his marriage, and even of life itself. Mel flagged down a gypsy cab. “Take me to 116th Street and Eighth Avenue. Make it quick. I’m in a hurry.” He reached his destination in ten minutes flat.

  The apartment was on the first floor, and Mel knew the neighborhood cops had to be on the payroll, because even a child could see that this was a drug den. There was more traffic going in and out of the rear apartment than there was at Grand Central Station. Mel waited until the hallway was empty for a moment, and then knocked. Two men guarded the door with their guns clearly visible while a young woman did the selling at a large kitchen table. The woman was high and trying not to show it. Mel stepped to her.

  “Let me get a gram, sweet thing,” he murmured.

  “One hundred dollars,” she mumbled without looking up.

  Suddenly, there was a commotion. Some dude had made a purchase earlier and had come back to argue about the quality. Mel didn’t turn around, but the angry man was talking fast and loud. Mel heard a click, which meant one of the guards had his piece at the guy’s temple. The girl in front of Mel stood up and bumped against the table as she tried to look over his shoulder to see what was going on. Mel saw a chance to get some free merchandise. He scooped up two plastic bags and then shoved them into his pocket.

  “Girl, let me get my shit and get outa here,” he said nervously.

  He threw five twenties on the table. She reached into a shoe box and put an envelope into Mel’s outstretched palm. Mel nodded and pushed his way past the door dispute and walked quickly out of the building. He was barely halfway down the block when he heard shouting. A woman’s voice yelled, “Hey! Somebody stop him!” Mel looked back and saw the girl who had sold him the coke, and one of the guards, running in his direction. Mel started running as fast as he could, hoping that the volley of bullets that he knew was coming would kill him quickly and not just leave him paralyzed.

  The first bullet hit him in the left shoulder.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  A sobbing Adrienne called Dan as soon as Mel had disappeared.

  “I’m coming over.”

  “No. If he comes back and finds you here, there will be trouble.”

  “If Mel is on drugs, he won’t be back tonight,” Dan said grimly.

  Adrienne couldn’t stop crying. “I don’t want to take that chance.”

  But Dan insisted on being there for her. As she waited for him to arrive, Adrienne paced the floor and tried to pull herself together. Poor Mel. Her thoughts rambled in all directions. Had he been reaching out to her over the past few weeks? How had she ended up married to a cheating drug addict, anyway?

  When Dan arrived, she was still alternating between loving and hating Mel. The only constant emotion she felt was worry. She was sitting on the sofa with her head buried in her hands. The faded T-shirt she wore was wrinkled and tearstained, and she could barely see his expression through her red, puffy eyes. Dan stood and massaged her back.

  “Where is Charlene?”

  “She has to get up at six. I decided not to wake her. Besides, I want you to come back home with me. We can talk all this out over there. Okay?”

  “I’m going to have to find a rehab center. Mel needs help real bad.”

  “Charlene will help you with that. Right now, I just need you to get dressed and let’s get out of here.”

  Adrienne wandered wearily into the bedroom and found a pair of sweatpants to drag on. She was looking for a matching shirt when the telephone rang. She listened to the voice on the other end, and a cry escaped her throat.

  “What’s the matter?” cried Dan as he rushed into the room.

  Adrienne just kept getting dressed, unaware that tears were streaming down her face for the third time that day. Dan grabbed her by the wrist. It hurt, but she stopped moving.

  “Tell me what has happened,” he said sternly.

  “Mel’s been shot!”

  Dan released her. “Oh, my God!”

  They reached the street and in record time hailed a cab, one that that ended up stuck in an East Side traffic jam. “Can’t you do something? I’m in a hurry!” Adrienne pounded the glass that separated her from the hapless driver, who started honking the horn in desperation.

  Adrienne marched into the emergency room and up to the nurses’ station with Dan trailing behind her. Several cops stood there. One of them stepped forward when she gave the nurse her name. “I’m Officer Delino, Mrs. Jordan.” Adrienne stared at him without answering. She had mixed feelings about this whole surreal experience. Mel shot by a known drug dealer, Officer Delino had said on the phone. The look on the face of the nurse at the desk scared the hell out of her. What if Mel was dead? Her knees trembled. Please, God, let him be all right, she prayed.

  “Where is my husband?” she asked.

  At that moment, a young doctor marched into the waiting room. He looked at all the scared and patient faces of the relatives seated on the hard chairs. “Are any of you related to Melvin Jordan?”

  “I’m his wife,” Adrienne said. There was something about the doctor’s face that reminded her of the soot-covered fireman who had stopped her car on the day Delilah had died. Her heart began to race.

  “Mrs. Jordan . . .” the doctor began as he fumbled with the stethoscope around his neck.

  Adrienne couldn’t stand to hear him say it. She started flailing her arms, pushing and shoving Dan and the nurses who stepped in to help. “I want to see him.” Her voice was a breath of agonizing pain.

  “Mrs. Jordan, please calm down.” The doctor sounded surprised at her reaction. “I’ll take you to him.”

  Their heels seemed to make a lot of racket as they started down a long hallway. Finally, one of the nurses stopped at room 503. She turned the knob and pushed the door in. The first bed was empty, and a curtain surrounded the other. Adrienne turned to face the doctor and nurses. “I want to be alone,” she said. Everyone except the doctor moved back into the hallway. He didn’t close the door. “Mrs. Jordan, your husband is heavily sedated. He won’t be able to talk to you.” Adrienne walked to the other side of the curtain. There was a form lying still in the bed with a sheet pulled up to its neck.

  Adrienne yanked the sheet off. Mel lay on his side, his chocolate complexion now an ashy gray. His eyes were closed, and the lips were pursed tightly together as though still grimacing in pain. Tubes ran from his nose, and an IV needle was still stuck in one arm. Adrienne collapsed hysterically onto Mel. She cried for what seemed like hours. “Is he going to live?”

  The doctor placed a warm hand on Adrienne’s arm. “Yes, he will recover from his wounds.”

  Adrienne clung to Mel until she felt Dan’s strong hands against her back. “Everything is going to be okay, Adrienne. Come on, let’s go down to the cafeteria and wait until he wakes up. Come on, it’s almost dawn now.”

  She wiped her eyes. “All right, but first I’ve got to call Debra,” she said, her eyes tearing up again. She knew how much Debra loved her brother, and Mel would do anything for his sister. They were so close—for a long time had only had each other. Adrienne didn’t know how she was going to break this terrible news to Debra, but she took a deep breath and mustered up the strength to punch the first few digits.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The next day Mel lay in his hospital bed, staring out the window. One arm was hooked up to an IV. The other lay across his stomach. The bullet wounds were painful but not life-threatening, and for that he was grateful. That had been a suicide move. On some level he had wanted to die. He should have been a dead man, but once again his life had been spared. He needed help for his drug habit, and he knew it. Debra, who had gon
e downstairs to smoke, had called from the lobby to say that Adrienne was on her way up to see him. He felt that his marriage was over and now wished there were something he could do to save it. Mel was genuinely sorry about all the anguish he had caused Adrienne, and he wanted to beg for another chance, but that wouldn’t be fair. It was time to come clean about everything and get out of her life.

  She stood in the doorway. Mel closed his eyes, wishing she would say something to start the inevitable confrontation. She cleared her throat, but he did not turn toward her. His body did not move. She entered the room and tiptoed to his bed. “Are you awake, Mel?”

  The question floated around the room. What should he say? Yes, I’m awake and more alone than I’ve been since the day my mama died? He could try pretending to be asleep and postpone the breakup until the next day. Mel sighed and opened his eyes. He was tired of playing stupid-ass-little-boy games. The only thing left to do was tell Adrienne how sorry he was and wish her better luck with the next man.

  “How long have you been on drugs, Mel?” Her tone was weary, and when he turned over, her red eyes told a tale of lots of tears and no sleep.

  “Things haven’t been right with me since the fire. It was bad enough us being homeless and separated. But to make matters worse, I couldn’t even hear your voice for a long time. You wouldn’t come to the phone, and Dan always said you were out when I came to his door.” He twisted his hands. “I know it’s no excuse for all this, but I felt as down as a man can feel for a long time.”

  Adrienne sat down. “I want to hear everything you’ve done that I don’t know about since the day of the fire, and I want the whole truth, Mel.”

  A long and painful conversation followed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “Is Lloyd here?”

  Sally’s eyes did not meet hers. “Yes, Adrienne. He’s been expecting you.”

  Adrienne squared her shoulders and walked into Lloyd’s office with her head held high. He was standing with his back facing the door, staring out the window.

  “I understand that you wanted to see me?” Her tone was crisp and professional.

  “Sit down, Adrienne.”

  “I prefer to stand.” Adrienne knew that she was probably about to be fired, and she didn’t care. Lloyd Cooper sickened her, and it would be a relief not to see him around.

  “I’m sorry about the way I behaved the other day.”

  “A lot has happened in my life since then. It doesn’t matter anymore,” she replied.

  Lloyd turned around and sat down in his sleek executive chair. “We have a problem.”

  Adrienne met his gaze. “Go on.”

  “I think it would be best if we didn’t work together anymore. However, you are my friend and I will not fire you.”

  “Then it sounds to me like you have the problem, LaMar.”

  He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He didn’t wince. He pulled a folder toward him and continued his speech as though she hadn’t said a word. “I think it would be best for all concerned if you were to resign.”

  “No. If I quit, then I don’t get unemployment.”

  “Don’t worry, PWE is prepared to give you a generous settlement, and I know a lot of people, Adrienne. I promise to help you find another job right away.”

  Adrienne searched his face and found genuine regret. “How much?”

  “A year’s salary.”

  “What about the loan?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do. I still intend to pay you back with interest.”

  He stood up and went to stare out the window again. His back was facing her. “Forget the loan, Adrienne. There is a letter of resignation in the folder on my desk with a final PWE check attached to it in the amount of fifty thousand dollars. Please sign it before our friendship is totally ruined.”

  “I won’t forget the loan. As soon as I get another job, I will pay it off. But not to you. Every payment will go to one of your sisters.” Adrienne’s chest was heaving with the injustice of the whole affair. “And you know what else?”

  Dead silence.

  “I’ll put the money in a card and sign it ‘In memory of your loving brother, LaMar.’”

  He didn’t turn around, but his shoulders hunched forward, and he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. The gesture didn’t surprise Adrienne. LaMar always used to do that when he got upset.

  “I’m scared, Adrienne.”

  Her heart softened. “So scared of poverty that you can’t even call and let your family know that you’re alive and well? So scared that you would force your oldest friend out of a job because she knows your weakness?”

  Lloyd groaned. “Oh God, Adrienne. I’m sorry. You don’t have to quit your job. Everything you’ve said about me is true.”

  “I’m scared, too, Lloyd.”

  He turned around. “Of what?”

  She took a deep breath. “It turns out that you were right about Mel. He is on drugs. We still love each other and he has agreed to get help, but times will be tough for a while.”

  Lloyd seemed lost in thought for a moment and then massaged his temples. “So, Mel is going to face his demons. That makes him more of a man than I am. Will you please stay on at PWE?”

  Adrienne patted him on the arm. “Yes and don’t beat yourself up. It took Mel a long time to stand up. You’ll get there, too. I’ll help you.”

  He smiled gratefully. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

  “Of course you are, Lloyd. I told you that seventeen years ago.”

  They laughed, and then Lloyd gave her a quick, friendly hug. “Yes, you did, and I’ll never forget it again.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  A week later, Debra stood outside the curtain that was closed around Mel’s hospital bed, holding a pair of new jeans and a sweater for him to wear home. Inside, Mel submitted to the doctor’s final examination.

  “Let me see you move that shoulder.” Mel raised his arm gingerly, wishing that they were sending him away with a painkiller that was stronger than Tylenol. Although the pain was no longer white-hot and throbbing, there was still a dull ache sometimes from the top of his left shoulder down to his fingertips. I’ll probably feel it on every rainy day for the rest of my life, he thought. The doctor made some tsk-tsk sounds and wrote something on Mel’s chart. “Turn over,” he said.

  Mel turned over on his stomach, lifted the white hospital gown, and submitted to the doctor’s probing fingers, which inspected the wounds in his backside. “These are healing nicely,” the doctor said. Mel didn’t answer. Everyone at the bar and around the card table probably knew that he had been shot three times in the ass. It was undignified and embarrassing as hell. After checking his pulse once more, the doctor wished him luck and pulled the curtain back.

  Mel had lost at least seven pounds from his already lanky frame, and when he stepped out of the bathroom after putting on the clothes Debra had bought for him, she told him, “You look like the devil done danced witchu.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  His backside ached as he shuffled from the hospital room, clinging to his sister’s arm. He leaned on Debra’s shoulder as they made their way past the nurses’ station, into the elevator, and out onto the street. Mel waited on the sidewalk while Debra stepped off the curb to hail a taxi. Suddenly, Mel knew that if he went back to Debra’s house, it would be impossible to turn his life around. He waved his one good arm to get her attention just as a cab pulled up.

  “I’m not going home with you,” he announced firmly.

  Her eyes widened. “Are you crazy? Adrienne’s liable to meet you at the door with a baseball bat if you try to go back home right now.” She opened the car door. “Stop this foolishness, Mel. Your wife done tole you she needs time to think all this out. You need to get off your feet and go lay down in the back room.”

  “I can’t.”

  Debra slammed the door, and the taxi driver gave them both the finger before
pulling away.

  Debra looked worried and scared. No matter what, he was still her baby brother. “Mel, what’s the matter witchu? It must be that medication got you acting like this.”

  Mel shook his head. “I’m going to Dan and Charlene’s house. I need help, and Charlene will help me get it. She’ll know what I should do next to get clean.”

  “Why you gonna do a fool thing like that? You can’t just show up on your brother-in-law’s doorstep without even calling first. Don’t worry, I’ll take care you.” Her voice was tender. She stroked his face. “Just like I always have.”

  Mel took her hand and kissed the work-roughened palm. “Not this time, Debra.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Mel had paced outside Dan and Charlene’s apartment building on West Fifty-second Street for what seemed like a hundred times, but he knew he’d only been standing outside the entrance for about twenty minutes. He watched the people come and go, mostly white, their faces open and curious, others closed and wary. They watched him as they passed, as if they knew he didn’t belong there, a black man poorly dressed against the cold, shamefaced and weary on the busy street. Occasionally, a burst of laughter would drift down from an open window. Mel wondered when he’d be able to laugh like that again, deep and soulful without a trace of grief. He counted ten breaths, long, calming breaths; then he stamped his feet and pushed the buzzer to their apartment. Best to get on with it.

  He buzzed again and waited for an answer. He hoped Charlene and Dan would cut him slack. It only took his nearly dying once to get the point. Life was too precious, no matter what was lost, what might not ever have been given. Mel thought about his mother, who had died unhappy, and his father, who had left Debra and him and never looked back. And he thought about Delilah and all the love he’d held for that child, his firstborn, his daughter, and for the woman he had loved, who loved him back. After Delilah died, he knew he had stopped living, but today he was going to try to put things back on track, at least in himself if nowhere else.