“Are you doing coke again?”
“No!” The quickness of his answer told her he was telling the truth. “No fucking way.” A pause. “Sometimes I wish I was, though.”
“Is that it?” Elizabeth said, wondering now if that’s what his problem was all along; that he was relapsing. “Because if you’re having trouble staying off coke, it’s okay. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, you fall off you get right back on the wagon, okay?”
“It’s not that,” Ronnie said, rocking on his heels. He was shaking, nervous. “Shit, I don’t know how else to explain this to you.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer but found she couldn’t—she didn’t know what was wrong, and she didn’t want to keep pressuring him. She felt her resolve shatter as her last hope that he’d had a cocaine relapse vanished. “Ronnie, I’m your sister. I want to help you.”
Ronnie took a deep breath and looked down at the ground. He seemed to be drawing into himself, as if to ward away the cold. Around them cars continued past to the drive-through. High school kids cruised past, blaring rap and heavy metal music from car stereos. When Ronnie looked back up again she saw that he had tears in his eyes. “I can’t help it,” he said, his voice shaky. “God help me, Elizabeth, but I just can’t help it.”
Now Elizabeth felt a sudden surge of fear. She reached out and touched Ronnie’s arm in an attempt to comfort him. “You can’t help what, Ron?”
“I can’t help myself!” He was crying now and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. “I...I...keep trying to end it, but I can’t...she’s too strong, and—”
Elizabeth felt her entire body go numb. “Is it Diana?”
“...and I’m scared for Mary...I love her so much and—”
Elizabeth gripped Ronnie’s shoulders. “Is Diana hurting you or Mary?”
This seemed to snap Ronnie out of the spell he was in. He shook his head and took a deep breath, taking several steps back. “Elizabeth, I’m...I’m sorry I even bothered you...” He was retreating back to his truck.
“Ronnie!” Elizabeth stepped forward after him.
Ronnie turned and headed back to his truck. “I’ve gotta go. I’m already late for work.”
“Ronnie!” Elizabeth caught up to him at his truck and tried to get him to stop. He brushed past her and climbed behind the wheel. “Ronnie, I can help! If you’re afraid for Mary I can get her out of there. I can get you help! I can—”
Ronnie started the car and looked at her. His blonde hair seemed thinner, brittle. And the baseball cap...Ronnie had never worn baseball caps before now. She wondered if his hair was falling out. His stubbled face looked dry, his hands weathered. This was not her brother. This was not Ronnie Baker, the happy-go-lucky ex-drunk coke-fiend she had come to love since he settled down with Cindy Shull almost ten years ago.
“I can’t help it,” Ronnie said, starting the truck and crying.
“Cut the bullshit,” Elizabeth said. She pounded the driver’s side window. “Open the fucking window!”
Ronnie rolled down the window. His hands were shaking on the wheel. He had his head down, his eyes closed, and it looked like he was gasping for breath.
Elizabeth felt scared again. Seeing him behave like a junkie jonesing for a fix was driving the spike of fear into her veins. “Ronnie, are you okay? Are you sick?”
Ronnie shook his head. He took a deep breath, composing himself. Elizabeth waited, trying to stay calm. She didn’t want to drive him away now. She wanted to get it through his thick skull that she was going to help, she was going to do whatever it took to help him and Mary.
“Ronnie?”
Ronnie took another deep breath and looked up. He appeared in control again, as if he had fought off whatever spell had come over him. He didn’t look at her when he spoke. “Whatever happens, know this Elizabeth. I love you and mom and dad, and I love Mary more than the world itself.”
“Ronnie, you’re scaring me!” Now she couldn’t help it; hearing him say that sounded like Ronnie was giving her advance warning of his impending suicide.
“I’m sorry I’m scaring you but I can’t help it.” He turned to her, his green eyes alight with fear. “I love Mary and I would never do anything to hurt her. Okay?”
“Ronnie, let me get you help!”
“I want help,” Ronnie said, and she saw his hands shaking again. It’s drugs, she thought. It’s got to be drugs. He has to be doing something to keep him working those brutal hours. “I want to...I want to...but...she’s stronger than anything I’ve ever done. Stronger than coke....stronger than booze...”
“If Diana’s hurting you—”
“...but I can’t help it...I want her, Elizabeth! I wanted her so bad and then...
Elizabeth stopped, not knowing what to say and unable to tear her gaze from her brother. “What’s she doing to you?”
Ronnie looked at her with pleading in his eyes. “If I could get rid of her I would, but she’s got me...she’s got me good. And I can’t—”
“Kick the bitch out!” Elizabeth said, practically spitting the words out with a sudden burst of anger. “Go home and kick her fucking ass out the door “
“I can’t!” Ronnie suddenly wailed. He pounded the dashboard with his fists. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”
“Why not!”
Ronnie stifled back a cry, his head bowed down again. Then, in a small, weak voice: “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me!” Elizabeth was begging him now to do anything it took to keep him away from Diana Marshfield. If she had the strength to drag him out of the pickup truck, she would. “Please!” she said. “Let us help you. I’ll bug out early from work, you can come home with me! You can—”
Ronnie raised his hand to stop her and shook his head. He put the truck into reverse with his other hand and Elizabeth felt the vehicle lurch. “I can’t, I just can’t, and I’ve gotta go. I’m gonna be late for work.” And then just as suddenly as he had unleashed this barrage of emotions he was backing out of the parking slot and driving away. Elizabeth was too stunned to yell at him to come back. She stood at the empty parking spot, trying to control the flood of anger and fear that was racing through her, threatening to overtake her.
RONNIE ALTERNATED BETWEEN crying and being incredibly angry with himself as he wound his way to Route 30. He hadn’t meant to rile Elizabeth up like that, but he’d needed to talk and she was the only one he could turn to. He shouldn’t have tried to reach out and ask for help in the first place; he had no idea how deep he was hooked.
With his stomach churning, threatening to make him sick and pass out, he managed to get back onto Mannheim Pike. He tried to control the shaking in his hands but he couldn’t. The more he tried to fight it, the harder it became to control his urges, his undying desire to take his pleasure from Diana’s sensuous nature.
He was heading north on Mannheim Pike, the opposite direction from which he wanted to go, but that was of no concern to him now. He had to get into a more densely populated area and he had to do it quickly. He would have preferred to just go home and give Diana a quick fuck, but he had to be at work in thirty minutes. This would have to be a quickie. He made a right down Brenner Road, the first road that looked like it was far off the beaten path, and pulled over to the side of the road. Pausing quickly to scan the neighborhood for anybody who might be watching, he put the vehicle in Park, picked up his cell phone and hit speed dial. With his other hand he unbuttoned his jeans and extracted his raw penis.
Diana answered on the third ring. “Hello.”
“It’s me,” Ronnie said, his pitiful attempt at getting help gone. Hearing Diana’s voice had obliterated that now. It’s just one more time, he thought as he began stroking his penis. Just one more time, just a quickie and then no more. “I’m so horny for you.”
“Are you at work?”
“No, I’m in my truck.”
A throaty chuckle, sexy in its timbre. “You naughty boy!”
�
�That’s it, talk to me like that!” Ronnie’s voice panted as he jerked himself off. He didn’t even feel the irritation of the raw skin of his penis as he stroked himself rapidly. “Talk to me like that, make that sucking sound you make when you suck my dick.”
“Mmmm...like this?” A slurping sound, loud, purringly feminine, made goosebumps down Ronnie’s spine.
“Yes, yes, keep doing that!”
And as Ronnie jerked himself off with Diana over the phone he was in another world, a world far away from the one he had struggled to build with his daughter, one he had hoped to live in with humility and respect. And as he came quickly in a shuddering gasp, the guilt crashed into him again, he leaned against the steering wheel, struggling to hold his emotions in because he didn’t want Diana to know he was losing his mind.
FOURTEEN
THEY ARRIVED AT her parent's house shortly before noon on Thanksgiving Day, and as Gregg pulled the Saturn up their street Elizabeth saw that Diana’s Chrysler was already parked in the driveway. “Looks like the princess is here already,” Elizabeth muttered.
“Now, now,” Gregg said as he pulled in behind the Chrysler. “Be nice.”
“I will, but if that bitch is rude I will not be polite,” Elizabeth said.
Elizabeth had been up all night talking to Gregg and thinking about what had happened yesterday at lunch. She’d called Gregg from her cell phone in her car and told him about it; in fact, she’d cancelled her last class and went home sick. “I tried to get him to talk to me but he wouldn’t, it was like he wanted to but...but it was like he was in denial over something.”
“He’s got to be using again,” Gregg had said. She’d heard him sigh over the phone, heard the squeak of his chair as he shuffled in his cubicle at work. “This sounds more serious than we thought. We need to do something. An intervention or something.”
“Oh no,” Elizabeth had said, shaking her head. “We did that with him twelve years ago when he was strung out on coke and that was a disaster.”
“I’d suggest having a professional present when you do this one,” Gregg had replied. “I’m sure if you call AA or NA and tell them what’s going on somebody will volunteer to help out.”
“What about Diana?” Elizabeth had said. “I think she has a lot to do with this.”
“So do I, but I think we need to deal with her role in this at another time. The first thing is to confront Ronnie with his problem and get him help. If Diana’s around and objects, fuck her!”
Elizabeth had smiled. The sound in Gregg’s voice then, so filled with righteous anger, had been inspiring.
She had picked up Eric at her mother’s, telling her quickly what had happened with Ronnie. For the first time in months, Laura had looked concerned for her son. “Maybe I should call him at the plant,” she’d said, heading for the phone.
“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow,” Elizabeth had said, the plan formulating in her mind haphazardly, coming out as it was being born. “If the time and opportunity presents itself, we should bring it up to him at dinner.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Laura had said.
Elizabeth hadn’t mentioned or alluded to Diana being the problem, and she hadn’t told her mother everything Ronnie had said. She was afraid her mother would over-react and defend Diana. If Ronnie was using coke again, the key was to get him help. If Ronnie could confront his addictive behavior, see how it was destroying him and everything and everybody he loved, he might see Diana with new eyes and do something about it himself.
As they got out of the car Gregg said, “Let’s see what happens.”
“I know,” Elizabeth said. Eric was silent. They’d told their son that his uncle Ronnie was having some troubles and that they might have to talk with him about it—just the grownups—and Eric had nodded and said he understood. It was amazing how perceptive Eric was at only eight-years-old.
They entered the house to the welcome aroma of baking turkey and stuffing, the warm smells of cooking and burning candles bearing an autumn scent. Jerry was cheerful and smiling, dressed in blue jeans and a long-sleeved red plaid shirt. “Hello! How you guys doing today? Hope you brought your appetite!”
In a way it was very much like Thanksgiving dinners of the past except for one thing. Ronnie wasn’t there.
Diana was sitting at the kitchen table with mom, chattering away, and Elizabeth felt Gregg react visibly to Diana’s appearance. She looked ravishing in tight black jeans, a white blouse with the top three buttons undone, revealing deep cleavage. Her hair and make-up were perfect. Elizabeth couldn’t believe it—if she were a guy, she’d have had a hard on. She was that sexy and alluring.
Rick, Lily and Mary were playing in the living room. Eric joined them and Elizabeth smiled when she saw her niece. Mary looked up from her spot on the sofa where she was sitting with a book, and smiled and waved. The expression on the little girl’s face was not only one of recognition and happiness at seeing her Aunt, it also bore a hint of relief, as if she were thinking Thank God you’re here. Mary looked back down at her book and Elizabeth paused for a moment. Something about Mary wasn’t right. She seemed a little too withdrawn, as if she were afraid.
She was about to go talk to Mary, see how she was doing, when she heard her mother’s voice. “Elizabeth! I was just telling Diana about that recipe you have for Shoofly pie. Where did you say you got it again?”
Elizabeth told her, the words tumbling out of her mouth, and they spent the next twenty minutes or so talking about cooking. Jerry and Gregg were in the living room watching a game and discussing sports, the kids were in the living room either playing or reading books, and Elizabeth tried to join in on the conversation with her mother and Diana, but her mind kept wandering between Mary and her brother.
Gregg went down to the basement and brought up sodas and beer and Elizabeth poured a Dr. Pepper for herself. She was standing by the kitchen counter, munching on potato chips. Diana had gotten up to refill her glass with Diet Pepsi and mom was at the stove, dressed in faded blue jeans and a red sweater, tending to the meal. “So where’s Ronnie?” Elizabeth asked.
“He’s in bed,” Diana said, her tone of voice bearing a slight tinge of sympathy. “He worked a double-shift last night and didn’t get home till four. He’s exhausted. He said he might come by later this afternoon.”
From the living room she heard her father mutter. Elizabeth couldn’t tell what he said, but she guessed immediately it was a response to Diana’s explanation of why Ronnie wasn’t present. Mom didn’t say anything, as if it were a normal occurrence for Ronnie to skip out on Thanksgiving with his family because he was too busy working. Elizabeth shrugged and took a sip of her Dr. Pepper. “He sure works a lot. Too much work for so long isn’t such a good idea. He should look into cutting back on his hours. Don’t you worry about him driving home from work so late at night when he’s tired?”
“I’m not worried,” Diana said casually. “Ronnie’s a tough guy. When he’s at home he gets plenty of rest.”
“I hope so,” Elizabeth said. Then, before she could stop herself, she continued. “I suppose it’s easy for him to sleep during the day when the kids aren’t home. How long has it been since he’s seen Mary?”
She glanced into the living room quickly and caught a brief glimpse of Mary, who was looking up from her book toward the dining room eagerly. She’d been listening to the conversation and now she turned away almost fearfully, as if afraid of being caught eavesdropping.
“He’ll see Mary tonight,” Diana said. Her dark eyes were riveted on Elizabeth. She was smiling, but it wasn’t an honest smile. It was manufactured civility, and beneath it Elizabeth could sense the mask of disapproval and hate simmering. “He does work hard, but he’s doing it for his family. It’s a big sacrifice for a man to take on as much as Ronnie is doing so his children can have a mother to come home to when they get home from school. That’s something most children these days don’t have. Know what I mean?”
I know w
hat you mean, you bitch, Elizabeth thought, immediately recognizing the barb for what it was—a direct stab at her own working condition. She let it roll off her back and continued, keeping her voice calm and level. “Well, as his sister I worry about him. All that work and hardly any time off... it could drive him to do things he probably shouldn’t be doing. He should take it easy.”
“He’ll be fine,” Diana said. Her false smile widened, became more forceful.
“And what have you been up to lately?” Elizabeth asked, feigning a change of subject. “You working now or...?”
Her father muttered again, louder this time. “That’ll be the day.”
It was clear Diana heard Jerry’s response. She glanced back at Jerry with such a look of distaste that Elizabeth felt like slapping her (how dare you look at my dad that way when he’s only reacting to the fact that you’re a lazy bitch!), but she held back. That look said, say one more thing about me and I’ll fuck you up. Diana turned back to Elizabeth and smiled sweetly, her entire demeanor false. “No, I’m not working. At least not yet. And what about you? I hear you actually had a book published! Is it available in bookstores?”
If the question had come from anybody else, Elizabeth wouldn’t have been offended; since most people were only aware of brand name authors like Tom Clancy and Stephen King, she didn’t fault them for having never heard of her. She wasn’t offended that this particular barb came from Diana, but she could tell it was intended to be insulting. Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, it is, but since you don’t read there’s no sense in me telling you which store you can pick it up at.” Do you even know how to read?
Diana’s smile remained on her face but her eyes were smoldering pits. Laura turned away from the stove and Elizabeth saw from the look on her mother’s face that she didn’t approve of the conversation Elizabeth was baiting Diana into. And I don’t give a fuck, Elizabeth thought. For once in my life I don’t care what my mother thinks.
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