Page 16 of A Mighty Love

“Honey, Dan’s right,” Charlene interjected. “Not talking about it will tear the two of you apart.”

Adrienne said nothing.

Dan threw up his hands. “Fine. Let’s get to work and finish taping all these boxes.”

Adrienne was still fuming. “Are you suggesting that Mel is an alcoholic?” she asked Charlene.

“That’s not what I meant,” Charlene protested wearily.

Dan stood up, lifted Adrienne’s chin, and stared directly into her eyes. “I don’t know whether Mel has a drinking problem or not, but I do know that you two need to talk about what happened. Adrienne, you can’t shop your pain away.”

Adrienne jerked her chin away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said defiantly. Dan was starting to sound like Charlene. In another minute he would give her some dime-store psychoanalysis, that the purchases she made were little representations of Delilah, or some such nonsense.

Dan waved one arm around the living room in a sweeping gesture. “Look at this! Clothes with the tags still on. CDs that have never been played, dozens of makeup kits, books that you haven’t read yet. Every week you find something else to buy.”

Adrienne couldn’t believe the callousness of Dan’s statement. How would he feel if he woke up one morning and found that every single thing he’d ever owned had simply vanished? Wouldn’t he feel compelled to replace all that he’d lost? Her weekly shopping trips took away the awful sense of powerlessness that gnawed at her insides. Once the new baby was born, she had no doubt that the pain, which ate away at her inside, would disappear entirely.

Adrienne stamped her foot. It was a childish gesture. She knew that, but she was too wound up with worry over what lay ahead for her and Mel, to contain herself any longer. “Have you forgotten that I arrived on your doorstep with just the clothes on my back?”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Adrienne ran for the door as her brother and sister-in-law lapsed into a troubled silence.

CHAPTER FIVE

When Mel left Lillian’s house, he had caught a cab down to Fourteenth Street, where he had hired a van and a helper. The helper turned out to be a gangly, pimply faced Irish kid. Mel took one look at him and turned back to face the owner. “Come on, man! I told you last week that I needed somebody to help me lift some real heavy shit. Is this the best you could do?”

“That’s my son, Ian. He’s only sixteen but he’s strong. You’ll see.”

Ian just stood there. Mel looked at his watch. It was 8:55 A.M. No time to argue. He nodded in Ian’s direction. “Let’s go,” he said with disgust.

Melvin said nothing to the kid as the van careened up Tenth Avenue toward Dan’s apartment. He hated moving boxes and furniture. It reminded him too much of his father.

Debra had often told him the story of their parents. Harry and Simmie Jordan had married in 1953, but theirs was no church wedding. Harry had driven Simmie from their hometown of Santee, South Carolina, to the courthouse in Columbia. They exchanged the basic vows before a judge, then went back to Harry’s house, where Simmie cried all afternoon. She had wanted at least a small reception at her parents’ home, but Harry had been adamant. He said that he wasn’t totally sure the baby was his. One sign of fuss or celebration, he told Simmie, and he was pulling out. For good. So she simply fingered her new wedding band and held her hand up to the dim light in their closet-size bedroom.

Simmie was glad to have Debra to occupy her daytime hours when Harry was working at the furniture-moving company. Harry took a real interest in Debra, even though he still didn’t love his wife. For Harry, nothing was too good for Debra, his precious baby girl who looked just like him. Simmie, in turn, hated the little girl for taking away what little attention Harry used to pay her. The family moved to New York, where Mel was born four years later.

Mel, named after his maternal grandfather, had been born shortly after Debra’s fourth birthday. Even though Harry, Simmie, and their tiny daughter were all brown skinned, the boy was coal black. Since Mel was so dark, Harry felt that his wife had been unfaithful. He could barely stand the sight of Mel and made sure that the boy knew it.

Simmie adored her son, but she died from a heart attack when Mel was only twelve years old. Soon after, Harry took off, leaving his two children to be raised by an elderly aunt.

Mel shook his head to clear away the dismal memories as he and Ian waited for Adrienne to buzz them into the building.

When Mel walked into Dan’s apartment, he could feel the tension.

Mel kissed his wife and grunted a hello to his in-laws. He pointed a finger at the kid’s chest. “His name is Ian. He’s going to help me and Dan with the lifting.”

“You know that old bureau that I’ve been keeping my CDs in?” Adrienne asked Charlene.

“Go on, take it, girl,” Charlene said grumpily.

Mel wondered briefly what they had been arguing about.

Since Adrienne and Dan still hadn’t finished taping the boxes when Mel arrived, he and the kid had to help them. Mel had to give Ian an extra twenty dollars for his time and it really pissed him off. The five of them worked in silence until every box was taped.

As Mel and Dan loaded the bureau into the van, it almost slipped from their grasp. This would have meant serious injury for the slightly built white boy who was holding up the other side. When the vehicle was finally ready to go, Adrienne and Dan squeezed in the front next to Mel. Charlene and Ian rode in the back.

As the blocks sped by, Mel felt as though he were headed toward a jail cell. To calm himself, he tried to think about the past few months.

Debra’s place meant old-school music, dancing, card parties. Ahead of him lay a closed world with two people trying to find their place in it as the tiny ghost of a third hovered over them. He was sure of only two things. He still loved Adrienne, and his get-high days were over. There was no way any marriage could last if one partner was using drugs. From now on, he would stick to rum.

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