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Adrienne shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Mel squeezed her hand. “I think you’re just feeling stressed out about our situation.” He kissed her on the nose. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”
Adrienne wasn’t convinced, but she smiled up at her husband anyway.
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?”
