“So you were calling yourself Pollyanna?”
“Right before you came in, I was thinking …” Sam trailed off, remembering exactly what she’d been thinking about and seeing, once more, Gloria’s face as it had been that long-ago day, all lit up from inside. “I was thinking about making you something to drink and I remembered that phrase ‘when life gives you lemons, make lemonade,’ which is probably one of the most Pollyannaish expressions there is.”
“So what kind of lemons do you have in your life?” Diana asked. She took a long swig from the glass. “This is so good. Thanks.”
“Well, everyone has lemons,” Sam said, smiling, glad Diana looked relaxed, and happy she was enjoying the lemonade. Diana took another long sip and put the glass on the table. She wanted to say something, Sam could tell, but the words weren’t coming easily. Sam waited and Diana rubbed at the condensation on the glass. The silence between them was weighted but not uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the adoption before. You know, when you came over with the baby clothes. I should have said something. It was really nice of you to bring them over. They’re really cute.”
“Oh, honey, don’t worry about that,” Sam said and reached out to cover Diana’s hand with her own. “It’s totally fine. You didn’t have to tell me anything. I should have asked. I mean, no, not asked, but—”
“I just didn’t know Allison was going to be such a complete bitch about it,” Diana said sharply. “She can’t wait, you know. She’s counting the fucking seconds until I’m gone.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true,” Sam said and almost gagged at the insincerity of her words. Diana, frowning, could hear it too. Sam didn’t want to lie to this girl or offer her useless nostrums. She needed someone she could trust, someone she could feel safe sharing her feelings with. “Okay,” Sam said, “I’ll agree with you that, from what I’ve seen, Allison doesn’t seem to be managing things all that well.”
Diana snorted. “You got that right.”
“But,” Sam continued, “maybe that’s because she doesn’t know what to do or say. She isn’t a bad person. She teaches third grade. You know that, right? My son was in her class a couple of years ago. She was great with him—with all the kids.”
“So what?” Diana spat. “My mother’s a teacher too. It doesn’t mean anything if you’re great with other people’s kids if you can’t handle your own.”
“I’m just saying, maybe Allison’s confused and it’s not coming out the right way.”
“She’s a bitch,” Diana said. “She has been since the day I got here. I get that she’s pissed off she never knew her husband had a kid, but it’s not my fault Joe didn’t tell her about me, is it?”
“No,” Sam said, “but it’s probably more complicated than that.”
“You know,” Diana said, shifting in her chair, “everyone always says that when old—” Diana caught herself and smiled quickly. “I mean, when older people behave badly. If you’re, like, under twenty-five and you act like an asshole, it’s because you’re an asshole. If you’re older than that, it’s complicated.”
Sam had to laugh. There was more than a little truth to what Diana was saying, although her classification of anyone over the age of twenty-five as “older” made her feel ancient. “Okay, I’ll give you that,” she said. “But, even though it really isn’t my place to say, I’d guess that there’s a story behind Allison’s actions—or, her feelings, I should say—that started being written long before you came along. It’s just a pity.…”
“What?” Diana said. “What’s a pity?”
“It’s a pity that she can’t talk to you about it.”
“You mean it’s a pity she can’t act like a grown-up?”
“I didn’t say that, Diana.” Sam sighed. She’d said something so similar to Gloria just the other night when the two of them were having yet another argument. Why can’t you just grow up? Sam couldn’t believe she’d even said it. It was the first time she’d ever referenced the ten-year age difference between herself and Gloria. Before now, it hadn’t made a difference, but these days that decade felt more like an entire generation.
“What I’m trying to say,” Sam said, “is that it’s difficult for some people to communicate how they’re feeling. Like Allison. But it’s a pity she can’t get around that because you could probably really use someone on your side right now.” Sam pursed her lips as if to keep back the words she was about to say. She shouldn’t ask and she would probably regret it, but she was powerless to stop herself. “Diana, can I ask you …? The adoption—was that your idea? I mean, have you been able to talk about it with anyone? Your mom?”
Diana turned her head so that Sam wouldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m done talking to my mother,” she told Sam. “My mother kicked me out. I hate her.” She swallowed hard and Sam could see her struggling mightily to keep from crying. Sam felt Diana’s pain inside her own heart—so sharply she could feel her eyes sting and water. Because as much as she wanted to reach Diana, it was herself she wanted to help, to go back all those years ago to when she was the same frightened, angry girl about to make a decision she would regret for the rest of her life and stop her.
“She doesn’t give a shit what happens to me,” Diana said. “Why else would she let me come here?” She said “here” as if it were the bottom rung of a stepladder to hell.
“Maybe she felt you’d be protected here,” Sam said, wondering why Diana used the phrase let me come instead of sent me.
“Protected from what?”
“From gossip?” Sam began and then realized she was in over her head. “The kids at school? Sometimes kids your age can be pretty cruel.”
Diana gave Sam a look of genuine puzzlement. As she should, Sam thought, because who cared if a teenage girl came to school pregnant anymore? It was no longer the scarlet letter it had been for Sam. Now, when your abstinence-only education led to you getting knocked up you were actually lauded for “choosing life,” even if the life you were sacrificing in the process was your own.
“No, that’s not it,” Diana said. “School would have been fine. And my mother never tried to protect me from shit. She just didn’t want to be embarrassed by me. She didn’t want to be reminded of the same mistake she made.” Diana’s tears fell, finally, big drops rolling down both cheeks. “Like I could have helped it. It wasn’t my choice to be born. And this wasn’t my choice either.” She was weeping openly now, sobbing and hiccupping.
“What wasn’t your choice, honey?” Sam asked very softly.
“N-noth …” Diana took a breath and wiped her cheeks with her hands. “Nothing,” she said.
“You mean the adoption? You didn’t choose the adoption?”
Diana shook her head, her long dark curls trailing across her shoulders. “It’s the best thing to do to give her up,” Diana said.
“Her?” Sam’s throat tightened.
“It’s a girl. I had an ultrasound and they told me. She’s … It’ll be better for her if I give her up.” There was no conviction in her words at all, and Sam worried again that Diana was being pushed into a corner by the confused adults in her life who couldn’t possibly understand.… There was Allison with no kids of her own and Joe who obviously hadn’t wanted the one he’d made. The odds were not stacked in Diana’s favor.
“Are you sure about that?” Sam said and again wondered if she was going too far. “I mean, are you sure you want to do that?”
Diana nodded.
“What about … Have you spoken with the … the father? I mean, sometimes there’s a legal obligation to—”
“Forget it,” Diana said, her voice suddenly hard and guarded. “He’s got nothing to do with it.” She took a long drink from her forgotten glass of lemonade, draining it. Sam wondered what the story was. A bad breakup? Some asshole kid who’d dumped her as soon as she told him she was pregnant? Or someone older—someone married? Or just a poor, sweet boy who loved her and did
n’t know what to do? But no, that was Sam’s particular cross to bear. Because it wasn’t just her own baby she’d given up, it was his too.
“It might seem that way now,” Sam said, “but he might—”
“No,” Diana said. “He won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because he doesn’t know.”
“Maybe you should tell him.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t even know his name.”
Sam tried to keep her face passive, but Diana saw it—that flicker of distaste—and seized on it. “You think I’m a whore, huh? So does my mother.”
“No, no, not at all,” Sam said. “I was your age once, you know,” she added. “Hard as that might seem to believe. I’m not judging you.”
“Yeah, you are,” Diana said, drawing herself up and in, shielding herself behind toughness. “But whatever. You’re probably right anyway. It was my fault. I should have known better.”
The word fault triggered a rush of anger and recrimination in Sam. So much of her life, it seemed, had been about who was at fault and who should be punished. “What was your fault?” she said.
“I shouldn’t even have gone to that party,” Diana said.
“What party?” Sam asked.
“Just … it was a bunch of UNLV people. Like, sophomores and juniors, I think. My friend Sasha was supposed to meet me there and of course she never showed up. She’s such a flake. I was the only high school kid there. I should have left. But I didn’t. And I shouldn’t have had anything to drink. But I did. My bad. All of it.”
“So you—”
“I remember dancing with him. I told him I was eighteen, but I don’t know if he believed that. I don’t think he did. I remember he said my eyes were like dark suns. I thought that was so cool, you know? And then … I can’t remember anything after that. I woke up in somebody’s bedroom and I was … I could tell he …” Diana’s face flushed. Her hands were fists in her lap. “Everyone was gone. It was the middle of the night. I had to find my jeans on the floor. It smelled so bad in there. And I left.” She opened her hands, splaying them out on the table. “He didn’t even take my shirt off,” she said.
“Diana, that’s—”
“My fault,” Diana said, leveling a stare at Sam. “I told you.”
“No,” Sam said, “it’s not your fault at all. You have to believe that. Diana, that’s—” Sam couldn’t say it. The word was lodged like a bone in her throat. “Did you tell your mother about this?”
“I told you, my mother thinks I’m a slut. It wouldn’t matter what I said, her mind was already made up. I wasn’t supposed to be there anyway. That is my fault.”
“But you have to tell someone, Diana.”
“Why?” Diana said. “It’s all done and finished and here we are.”
“But—”
“Hey, it’s all cool,” Diana said, flicking some hair off her shoulders. “And I’m fine. It’s all worked out.” She pulled the T-shirt tighter over her belly. “One more week and then we’ll … and then it’ll be over.” She leaned on the table and pulled herself up. “Hey, do you know what time it is?” she asked Sam. “I’m supposed to meet someone.” Her demeanor had taken an abrupt turn. She squared her shoulders and hardened her mouth. The tears were gone and her eyes were dry and slightly suspicious. There was no overt hostility, but Diana’s body language was eloquent in commanding that she be left alone. She was back to being the tough chick with an attitude Sam had met first; before she’d encountered the soft, frightened girl who’d been sitting opposite her only moments ago. Sam knew this was a defense mechanism, albeit a highly convincing one. It was difficult to tell who the real Diana was or if there even was a real Diana yet. She was so young; there hadn’t been time for her to formulate what kind of person she would become. This steely exterior was a way of coping and now that Sam knew the circumstances of Diana’s pregnancy, she wondered if there were other, more destructive ways she’d found to deal with everything that was happening to her. If she had to take a guess, Sam would put Kevin Werner (who was certainly the “someone” Diana was meeting) uppermost on that list.
“It’s around noon,” Sam said. “Who are you meeting?” Diana gave her head a little angry shake and Sam realized her mistake. “I mean,” Sam said, “do you need a ride? I’m happy to take you wherever you need to go.”
“Really?” Diana was laughing. “Why would you want to do that?”
“I’m flexible,” Sam said. “It’s one of the advantages of working at home. And I don’t mind at all.”
Diana pushed some stray hair out of her eyes and gave Sam a quizzical look. Then she shrugged as if she’d come to some sort of internal decision and said, “Thanks, but I’m just going next door.”
“Kevin?”
“You got a problem with that too?” Diana’s tone contained more frustration than anger, but Sam knew to tread carefully.
“Isn’t he in school?” Sam asked and quickly cursed herself. What a stupid question.
“He gets out early today. I’m going over to help him with his homework.” Diana winked, a bizarrely inappropriate gesture. “I forgot to tell you, I’m also a straight-A student in addition to being a slut. At least I was.”
“So,” Sam said, “there are people who have a problem with you helping him study?” They were playing some kind of verbal chess, all their words masking what they were really trying to tell each other, and Sam was rapidly losing her way.
“I’m pretty sure Kevin’s parents think I’m a bad influence on their son,” Diana snorted. “As if.”
“What do you mean, ‘as if’?” Sam said.
“I don’t know if you know them very well,” Diana said, “but those people are totally out of touch with reality. I’m, like, the least of their problems.”
“Really?”
“Come on,” Diana said. “No offense, but people around here are seriously fucked up. I mean, I’ve only been here since July and it’s really obvious to me all the shit that’s going on in this neighborhood. And I’m not even paying that much attention. As far as I can see people around here are a bunch of losers. But you all think you’ve got it going on. Well, maybe not you. Again, no offense.”
“None taken,” Sam said. “But what do you mean? What’s going on?”
But Diana wasn’t listening. She’d put her hands on her belly and was paying rapt attention to what was going on inside it. “She’s moving around a lot today,” Diana said. “It’s like she can’t wait to get out. I don’t blame her. I don’t want to be inside me either.”
“Diana …”
“I gotta go. Thanks for the lemonade.”
“Diana, you know you’re welcome over here anytime. And if you want to talk about anything at all, you can. I understand what you’re going through, I really do.”
“Yeah, I know,” Diana said, heading out of the kitchen, “you were young once.” Sam followed her into the living room, a sense of helplessness growing with each step Diana took closer to the back door. But then Diana stopped and Sam saw her looking at a framed photograph on the wall. It was one of Sam’s favorites, a candid snap she’d taken of Gloria a couple of years before when the two of them had taken their boys to the zoo. Gloria’s hair was still long then, flowing down her back, glinting in the sunlight, and she’d raised a hand to clear it out of her eyes. Gloria was laughing. Happy.
“That’s your girl, right?” Diana asked, pointing at the picture.
Sam felt her entire body go cold and the blood drain from her face. Was Diana talking about the baby Sam had given away? How could she have known about that?
“I’m sorry,” Diana said. “Are you one of those … I mean, do you not like to be called girl?” Sam was still too stunned to talk. Her tongue felt thick. “This picture—it’s your woman, right? I don’t know her name. She’s really pretty, but I like her better with long hair.”
Sam had to swallow twice to
get enough moisture in her throat to answer. “Gloria,” she said finally. “You meant Gloria.”
“Yeah, Gloria, whatever,” Diana said and paused at the threshold of the door, one foot already outside. Those dusty, ragged flip-flops wouldn’t last another week, Sam thought. “Listen, I don’t care, okay?” Diana said at last. “I’m not like these other people. It’s not, like, a big deal that you’re with her. Girls get with other girls all the time, everyone knows that. I mean, it’s cool that you’re doing what you want to do. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.”
“Who?” Sam managed to say. “Who thinks it’s a big deal?”
“You know,” Diana said. “People.”
“And what do people say?” Sam asked, but it was too late for an answer. Diana had slipped out as effortlessly as she’d come in and was already gliding across Sam’s backyard on her way to the very people she’d just been talking about. “Diana!” she called out. The girl turned, almost in slow motion, her hair and body swaying. The sunlight hit her shoulders, giving her a golden glow. Sam was struck again by how very young and vulnerable she seemed.
“Come over anytime, okay?” Sam called out to her. “I mean that.”
Diana smiled and gave Sam a quick nod. And then she was gone.
chapter 8
Joe hadn’t intended it to happen. But then, who would have? Nobody planned these things.
He lay on his side, one arm growing numb under the weight of his own torso and one circled around her rib cage. His face was pressed into the soft flesh of her breast and his eyes were closed. Her skin smelled of sex and peach-scented lotion. His heart was still thumping; vibrating through his body with every beat, but his breath came slow and even. He was deep inside himself, in that place of senseless satisfaction, holding on for as long as he could before the rest of it—words, guilt, the reassembling of the future—came crashing in. He nestled into the feeling, savoring it, and watched as a series of stop-action still frames of the immediate past played out in delicious succession behind his closed lids.
The Neighbors Are Watching Page 9