by Peg Cochran
"The ones that cost almost as much as a car?" Mary pointed toward a price tag on the screen.
"Your parents could help." Pamela looked over her shoulder at Deirdre.
Deirdre started to laugh. "My parents don't take care of me. Why would they want to take care of my baby?" She shook her head. "I don't think I could keep it. How would I finish school?" She put a hand gently on her stomach, but there was nothing there yet. Maybe the test was wrong? Maybe she wasn't really pregnant after all?
"I would put it up for adoption," Mary said, moving back to her position on the floor. "Someone who wants it and will be able to give it a good life. How would you get anywhere stuck with a baby?"
"Just because people put a baby up for adoption, doesn't mean they don't want it." Pamela took a pack of cigarettes from her desk drawer and slammed it shut.
"I don't think I do want it, though." Deirdre ran a hand over her stomach again trying to feel some attachment to this thing that was supposedly growing inside of her. "I wish it would go away." She plucked at a loose thread on Pamela's bedspread.
"If you want to put it up for adoption, I've seen people advertising on the internet."
"What? Like free to a good home?" Pamela swiveled her chair around toward Mary.
Mary frowned. "No, you idiot. There are couples advertising that they want to adopt a baby. Tons of them. Move." She got up, pushed Pamela to one side and maneuvered in front of her. She put her hands on the keyboard, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated. She hit several keys, then punched "enter." "See." She pointed toward the web site that was loading on the screen.
Deirdre slid off the bed and went to peer over Mary's shoulder. She still had her hands pressed to her stomach as if they were going to rip the baby from her right then and there.
"Wow," Deirdre flipped through the images on the screen. "There are lots of people who want a baby. Some of them look really nice, too." She tapped her finger against the screen and read, "your child will receive all the love in the world as well as every advantage." She turned around toward Pamela and Mary who were gathered behind her. "That's so sweet, isn't it?"
"Why don't you do it then?" Pamela's tone was icy. "Hand it over to the first person who catches your eye."
"But it wouldn't be like that," Deirdre protested, wiping a tear from her cheek. Everything made her cry these days. "I just want what's best for the baby."
"Then I think you should keep it." Pamela raised her jaw and stared Deirdre in the eye.
Deirdre blinked away a fresh assault of tears and squared her shoulders. "No. I can't. It wouldn't have a good life with me—not like with some of these other people." She pointed toward the monitor.
"Well, go ahead and do it then." Pamela grabbed her cell phone from the desk and shoved it toward Deirdre.
"Okay. I will." Deirdre peered through her bangs at the screen and tapped in the number of Ed and Maureen. She stared defiantly at Pamela as she waited for the call to be answered.
Chapter 9
“I’m going to the library.” Rivka couldn’t look her mother in the eye.
Her mother laughed. “The library? Bubeleh, it’s Saturday night! You’re working too hard. Come to the movies with me and Tate. That actor you like is in the film. What’s his name? Natan?” She called toward the kitchen.
“No, Mame,” Rivka started toward the front door. “I really have to study. I want to get into a good college after all.”
Her mother patted her on the cheek. “Such a smart girl. Okay, go ahead. But tomorrow afternoon we’ll plan something fun, okay?”
“Sure, Mame, sure.” Rivka slid through the open front door and hastened toward the shadowy end of the front walk. Her stomach twisted in a way that made her wish she hadn't eaten so much of the pot roast for dinner. There must be something wrong with her. Lying to her parents always made her feel sick. But what else could she do when they insisted on being so absurdly old-fashioned?
An expensive red sports car turned onto their street with a loud, insistent beat blaring from the radio. Rivka looked back at the house and thought she saw the blinds move ever so slightly. She tried to melt into the shadows as the car came to a halt.
Before the driver’s door opened, she yanked open the passenger door and slid into the seat.
“I would have come up to the house.” Lance protested as she fastened her seat belt.
Rivka shook her head. “That’s okay. I was ready early so I thought I’d wait outside.”
Rivka's face burned. She shouldn't have said that! Now Lance knew she'd been ready early. He probably thought she was some stupid, geeky, high school kid. Which basically she was—she hoped she could get through the evening without doing anything even more stupid.
She leaned back in the seat and ran her hands over the smooth, leather upholstery. The whole car smelled like a pair of very expensive shoes. She'd never been in one like it. She would have really been enjoying herself if it weren't for her stupid conscience poking at her and making her feel guilty for having lied to her parents.
Darkened trees whizzed by the window. “Where are we going?” Rivka asked when they stopped at a light.
“I thought we’d go to the flicks, if you don’t mind. That new comedy is playing—the one with the actor all the girls like.” Lance glanced at Rivka and smiled. “I don’t want you paying too much attention to him, though.”
“I…I won’t.” Rivka gripped the door handle.
The movies! Her parents were going to the movies. The same one. What if she ran into them? What would she do? It would be hideous. She’d die of embarrassment. They'd probably drag her back home as if she were still in diapers.
“Lance?”
“Hmmm?”
“Could we do something else instead?”
“Sure. No problem. What do you feel like?”
“Maybe we could go somewhere where we’d be alone?” Rivka gave him a look like she’d seen on actresses in the movies. She hoped she didn't look stupid.
Lance looked startled, but then stepped on the gas. “Sure. There’s no one at our house right now. Pamela’s out, and my parents have gone to a party. Will that do?” He turned to her and grinned.
Rivka felt her face getting red again. What must he think of her! But she couldn’t risk running into Mame and Tate. She couldn’t! But what if he expected… Rivka felt her face burn even hotter as she slunk down in her seat.
Mary dragged her feet, dreading the moment when she would have to walk into Mr. Sobeleski’s news stand. What if he had discovered that she’d taken the money? She hadn’t taken all of it—just enough to cover the cost of her SATs. But Mr. Sobeleskwi was pretty shrewd even if he didn’t keep track of all of the cash that crossed the counter.
She had to rush as she walked the last block into town. She’d been to the psych ward at the hospital to visit her mother and had stayed too long. Her mother was almost normal, or at least what passed for normal for her. She’d put on street clothes and had combed her hair although she’d missed a huge spot in the back of her head where it was tangled into a knot that looked like a bird's nest.
Mary passed the town clock which cast a looming, dark shadow on the sidewalk in front of her. She yawned. It was only eight o’clock, but she hadn’t been sleeping well lately. The knowledge that she had taken money—stolen it—from Mr. Sobeleski stalked her dreams and had her lurching upright in the middle of the night, her nightgown drenched in sweat. Every time she heard a siren, her breath caught in her chest, like a fist pressing against her windpipe. She thought if she could put the money back, the dreams would end, but where was she going to get it from now?
Mr. Sobeleski was behind the counter and smiled when Mary pushed open the front door. Mary felt her hopes rise. Maybe he hadn’t noticed the missing money? Then again, perhaps he was being polite in front of his customers. A young couple in shorts and t-shirts stood in front of the counter watching as Mr. Sobeleski put several hiking magazines in a brown paper bag.
The back room was stifling. Mary began to sweat as she put her sandwich and drink in the small fridge. She heard the bell over the front door tinkle, and the jangle of the beaded curtain as it was pushed to one side.
“Ah, Mary, there you are.”
Mary’s mouth went dry, and her stomach knotted up.
They started out watching a movie in the family room. Even though Rivka had never seen it before, she couldn’t keep her mind on it. Her mind was on Lance, sitting a foot away from her on the sofa. He stirred in his seat, and she closed her eyes, half expecting to feel his hand stealing in her direction, touching her, forcing her to make decisions she wasn’t ready for. But he just reached for the can of soda he’d put on the coffee table in front of them.
The movie droned on. Rivka felt herself getting sleepy. Somehow this wasn’t what she’d expected. Her mother always preached ominously that boys were only interested in one thing. She wondered if that was how it had been with Mame and Tate? She couldn’t imagine it. Surely they had been different.
The movie rolled to an end, and Rivka braced herself. Now. Now Lance would make his move. She hadn’t decided yet how far she would let him go.
“What did you think?” Lance turned toward her. “The critics are calling it one of Spielberg’s bests, but I’m not sure I agree with them.”
Rivka was startled. She realized she’d lumped Lance into a certain category. So far in her experience, the cute boys were dumb, and the smart boys were jerky goofballs like David Chang in her math class. It seemed incredible that Lance could be good-looking, athletic and smart.
They talked for over an hour about…everything. Movies, politics, books, algebraic formulas.
And then suddenly he was kissing her, and it was better than the first time. Better than she’d ever imagined. She forgot to worry about whether she was doing it right. She knew she was.
Somehow they had stretched out on the sofa, Lance’s leg thrown over hers, both his arms wrapped around her. Rivka forgot where she was. Forgot everything but the moment.
A door slammed somewhere in the house, and they both jumped. They could hear footsteps in the kitchen and then Pamela called out.
“Hey, I’m home. Who’s here? I’m home.”
Lance struggled up onto his elbows and started to call out, but Rivka reached up and slapped her hand over his mouth. “Shhhh. Don’t tell her I’m here.”
“Don’t be silly.” Lance grabbed her hand and kissed the side of her neck.
Rivka hardly noticed. “She doesn’t want me seeing you, remember?”
“Who cares what Pammy wants? It’s none of her business.”
Rivka struggled upright, her hands sinking into the soft sofa cushions. She looked at her watch and nearly fainted. It was eleven thirty! What on earth was she going to tell her parents?
“I have to go.” She yanked her hand from Lance’s and stumbled to her feet.
“Okay, okay,” Lance put a finger to her lips. “Whatever you want.”
Rivka pulled on her sweater and picked up her purse.
“Come on.” Lance grabbed her hand. “We can go out this way.”
He led her down a hallway toward a windowless door. Rivka followed him into the garage. They inched their way past a shiny, dark blue Mercedes and out another door.
Lance's car was in the driveway. They got in, but he didn't start the engine right away. Instead, he turned toward Rivka.
“Listen, Becky, this whole thing about Pamela not wanting us to see each other is a load of crap. She doesn’t tell me what to do, okay? Hell, I can’t tell her what to do so why should she think she can give me orders?”
“It’s just that—“ Rivka began, but he put his finger over her lips again.
Rivka pulled his hand away. “No, seriously. She’ll be furious if she finds out.” Rivka turned her head away. “She doesn’t think I’m good enough for you…”
Lance put his hand under her chin and turned her face back towards his. “You are good enough, Becky. You’re good enough for anyone. Don’t let Pamela, or anyone else, tell you anything different.”
“But it’s true. It’s my family,” Rivka blurted out. “They’re…different. My parents weren’t born here. They’re strange and funny and they’re not social like yours are…and…” Rivka had a sudden picture of her father practicing his violin and her mother rolling out the dough for the challah. She had been crazy to think that a girl like her could end up with a guy like Lance.
Lance looked down at the steering wheel, idly turning it with his finger. “Things aren’t always what they seem.” He glanced at Rivka then ducked his head again. I’ve never told anyone this before, and you have to promise not to tell.”
He waited until Rivka nodded “yes”.
“I’ve honestly never told anyone this before, but Pamela isn’t entirely who she wants you to think she is.”
Pamela walked into the kitchen as the door to the garage was sighing shut. She caught a flash of Lance’s blond hair and a glimpse of the girl. She wasn't entirely sure who it was, but she figured she could guess pretty accurately. Why else would Lance be sneaking her out the back door instead of parading her through the front like he normally did?
Pamela had told Becky to stay away from Lance, but she hadn’t listened.
And now she was going to have to pay for that.
Chapter 10
“Do you want me to go with you?” Mary got in step besides Deirdre as they fought their way down the crowded hallway. It was three o’clock, and students spewed out of the classrooms toward their lockers and a speedy exit out the main doors.
“I’ll be okay.” Deirdre looked at Mary and then down at the floor. In reality she was a little nervous and wouldn’t have minded having someone come with her.
“I’ll come with you.” Mary insisted, linking her arm with Deirdre’s as they walked toward the front door. “I don’t have to be at work until five o’clock so I have plenty of time.” She gave Deirdre’s arm a squeeze. “Besides, Starbucks is down the street from Sobeleski’s, so I have to go that way anyway.”
Deirdre hesitated outside the door. She was tempted to have Mary come in with her, but realized this was something she would have to face herself.
A kaleidoscope of colors swirled behind the plate glass windows of Starbucks. Maybe she should have suggested someplace else? What if she saw some kids from school? But they wouldn’t know why she was here or what she was doing, so that ought to be okay.
Deirdre finally pushed open the front door and stepped over the threshold. The smell of coffee hit her like a blow, and she felt her stomach lurch. She took a couple of deep breaths, and the feeling retreated, leaving her weak and sweaty.
She looked around the crowded room. Voices hummed loudly, blending with the whirring of the cappuccino machine. There was a couple over by the front window. The girl had a butterfly tattoo on her wrist, and he had thick black, spiky hair. She squinted and tried to see them more clearly. They definitely looked way younger than Ed and Maureen’s picture on the web site Mary had found for her.
She glanced around some more and noticed another couple back in the corner at one of the smaller tables. They were both wearing the sort of clothes people wore for hiking—rough sandals and dark socks, khaki shorts with deep pockets on the sides and windbreakers—hers was red and his was navy blue. Strange to think that if everything turned out okay, her baby might go to live with these people.
Their heads swiveled in Deirdre's direction, and the woman gave a tentative wave. Deirdre smiled and walked in their direction. They looked to be almost as old as her parents which surprised her, but she supposed that wasn’t really all that old, considering her mother had gotten pregnant with her her junior year in college and had left school shortly afterwards to marry her father.
They seemed nice enough. The man insisted on dragging over an extra chair for her to put her feet up, and the woman ran to fetch her a glass of water.
"So, can you feel it
moving yet?" Maureen asked.
Deirdre could tell she wanted to touch Deirdre’s stomach but was afraid to ask. Deirdre shook her head. "Not yet. But the doctor said any day now."
"I'd like to go with you on your next visit." Maureen put her hand over Deirdre's. "To the doctor." She smiled. “I don’t want to think of you going by yourself.”
“That would be nice.” Deirdre smiled, too. How weird that this total stranger was willing to go to the doctor with her.
"You won't have to go through this alone. Not now that we're here." Maureen put her hand over Deirdre's again.
Ed cleared his throat. "We've brought you a little present." He took a package from beside his chair and handed it to Deirdre. "Go on, open it."
Deirdre pulled off the ribbon and then tore off the pink paper. It was a very expensive brand of MP3 player.
"You can put all your music on there." Ed tapped the package with a finger.
"You don’t already have one do you? Because we can exchange it." Maureen looked alarmed.
"No. This is so nice of you." Deirdre smiled at them and they leaned back in their chairs looking relieved.
"Anything you need, you call us." Ed said with an emphatic nod of his head. "We're with you every step of the way."
“That’s right, dear.” Maureen patted Deirdre’s hand again. “Every step of the way.”
"Your baby is going to have the best of everything, isn't that right, Maureen?" Ed turned toward his wife, and she nodded.
"It's just that we've wanted a baby for so long," Maureen fiddled with the long, gray-flecked braid hanging over her shoulder. "We couldn’t believe it when you called. We've been so excited, neither Ed nor I could hardly sleep."
This time, Ed nodded. "Remember," he pointed a finger at Deirdre, "if you need anything, anything at all, you call us. It doesn't matter when or where, we'll be there."
This weird, warm feeling spread through Deirdre. She wasn't going to be alone through this. These nice people were going to take care of her.