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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.
