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“Hello, Mr. Jordan,” they answered in unison.
“How old are they?” Mel asked politely.
“Carol is six, and Betty is four.”
Mel shifted from one foot to the other. “They visitin’?”
“My grandma had a stroke,” Lillian said simply, “so my girls are living here with me now.”
“I’m sorry,?
? Mel said sincerely. So Lillian and her kids were living all cramped up in the tiny studio apartment. “When did it happen?”
“The same morning you left here,” she said frankly.
No wonder she had broken down crying in Debra’s kitchen. Mel felt like dirt.
She turned to the little girls. “Y’all go set the table. Dinner is almost ready.”
They scampered away obediently.
Lillian beckoned to him. “Come sit down.”
Mel followed her into the main room and perched on the edge of the sofa. Lillian sat next to him sideways, with one leg folded up under her so that she could look him in the face.
Mel turned slightly so that their eyes met. “Look, Lillian, when we went out that night, I knew me and Adrienne was gettin’ back together the next morning. I lied to you and I’m real sorry about it.”
She shook her head from side to side. “Not good enough.”
Jesus! What did she mean it wasn’t good enough? What the hell else did she expect him to say? He looked down at his hands.
Lillian gestured toward the kitchen, where her daughters were chattering happily and making a lot of noise with the dishes. “Only little kids like those in there have a right to think that the words ‘I’m sorry’ make everything all better. They do it all the time. They say ‘I’m sorry’ and believe that it washes their wrong away like an eraser on a chalkboard. You a grown man. Now I want to know why you did that to me.”
If Lillian hadn’t been a frequent guest at Debra’s house, where he was bound to run into her again, Mel would have left the apartment that instant. Instead, he frantically searched his mind for the truth. When he found it, he decided to give it to her straight. “I wanted you and if I had tole you the truth, we wouldn’t have spent the night together.”
Her cheeks puffed up with anger, and her voice rose. “You don’t know that. I’m a grown woman, I mighta done it anyway. I had a right to decide that for myself. But what you sayin’ is that you wanted something and didn’t give a flyin’ fuck whether I got hurt or not? Ain’t that the way it was, Mel?” Her eyes looked like dark-brown molten lava, and they nearly liquefied him.
He stood up. “That’s the way it was. I better go.”
As he fiddled with the locks on Lillian’s door, she threw one last barb at him, and the tone of her voice was mocking and filled with contempt.
“You good at runnin’, ain’t you Mel?”
Mel knew that Lillian had the right to reject his apology, but at least he had done the right thing. He also knew that Lillian was right. He was very good at running, but he was sick and tired of the toll it had taken on his body and spirit. It was time to stand still and get well.
The following Wednesday night, Mel didn’t hesitate when he reached the Ready for Recovery building. Many people recognized him and called out welcome greetings when he came in.
Nora was setting up the folding chairs. “Glad you made it back, Mel. Can you give me a hand?”
Mel nodded and took the rest of the chairs from against the wall and set them up. “How have you been?”
“I got a job,” Nora said proudly.
“That’s real nice. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
Before they could talk further, Steve clamped Mel on the back of the neck. “Good to see you, man. You’re just in time to make the coffee.”
