by Peg Cochran
"Never mind," Mary scanned the tops of the waves, "It’s about time Pamela faced up to reality. So what if she’s adopted? I wouldn’t mind having you as a cousin.” Mary gave Rivka a brief smile.
Deirdre put both hands over her stomach. "Do you think my baby's going to mind being adopted?"
But neither Mary nor Rivka were listening.
"Pamela," Mary called, waving her hands in the air. "Pamela!"
"I don't see her." Rivka’s teeth chattered loudly. If something happened to Pamela, it would be all her fault. "We have to do something. Call for help."
"It'll be too late." Mary kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her jeans. "I'm going after her."
"No." Both Rivka and Deirdre grabbed her arms.
Mary was tempted to let them stop her. The water looked so cold and dark. She was a strong swimmer, but the ocean, especially at night, was different. But, she had no choice. Rescuing Pamela would make up for the other bad things she had done. She remembered when the priest at St. Michael’s used to give them penance after confession, and they had to say half a dozen Hail Marys, or even the entire Rosary, while kneeling on the hard floor, knees aching. Now, even a dozen Rosaries weren’t enough to pay for her sins. She needed something bigger to make up for all she’d done. Like risking her life to save Pamela. Maybe then God would forgive her.
Maybe then she'd forgive herself.
Mary plunged into the water. The cold paralyzed her, and she gasped. She waited several moments as wave after wave eddied around her waist. Finally, she kicked up her feet and dove head first into the dark, foaming water.
She surfaced beyond the first group of white caps and, treading water, looked around. Her teeth were chattering loudly, and she knew she had to find Pamela quickly before they both froze. She thought she saw a movement to the right. She kicked off and swam as quickly as she could in that direction.
"Pamela!" Mary stopped for a moment and looked around. "Pamela!"
The clouds momentarily separated, and a weak beam of light illuminated the water. Mary thought she saw Pamela floating in the trough between the waves. She swam as fast as she could in that direction.
She got to the spot where she thought she saw her and looked around. Nothing. She bobbed up and down trying to catch her breath. A wave slapped the side of her head, and salt water filled her mouth. She coughed and spit. She could feel mucous running from her nose down her chin, and she dashed a hand across her face.
Her arms ached, and her legs felt like lead. If she didn’t find Pamela soon, she would have to go back. She looked around frantically. Her hand suddenly struck something soft, and she whirled in that direction.
“Pamela!”
Pamela floated listlessly on her back, her head barely above the swelling waves.
“Go away,” she shouted at Mary.
“You’re going to drown.” Two strong pulls, and Mary was by her side.
“I don’t care. I don’t care about anything anymore.”
“Well, I care.”
“No, you don’t. No one really cares about me. My parents don’t. I think they’re sorry they adopted me.”
“Don’t be silly. You know that’s not true.”
“I’m not a Miller,” Pamela sobbed. “I’m the daughter of a crazy woman and cousins with…with…Becky! She’s nothing. And so am I.”
“Come on, Pamela. Becky will think it’s her fault if you drown. She’s already hysterical.” Mary gasped as a wave washed over her face. She swallowed a huge gulp of water and coughed.
“I don’t want you to drown, too.” Pamela treaded water, her head barely above the swells. “Go back.” She pointed toward shore. “Leave me here, okay? Just leave me alone. I want to die.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that.” Mary got into position and grabbed Pamela around the neck like she’d learned in her life saving class.
Pamela screamed and clawed and fought. Mary went under briefly, and for a moment, she panicked. She was tempted to let go of Pamela, but she didn't. Finally, she bobbed to the surface.
Pamela had stopped fighting and was heavy and limp. Mary tightened her grip and began the long, torturous swim back to land.
Chapter 18
Everyone's parents arrived almost at the same time.
Deirdre's father complained loudly that he'd barely gotten home when the call came. Mrs. Ruffelo had belted a trench coat over her coral-colored silk pajamas. She slumped in a chair in the living room, half-turned away from everyone while the Bergmans, who Deirdre had insisted on calling as well, sat on the sofa with their arms around Deirdre.
Rivka's parents' faces were dark with worry. They declined a seat and stood at the back of the room. Mr. Polsky kept smoothing his moustache, and Mrs. Polsky occasionally made little mewling noises like an injured kitten.
Mary's father had come by himself and seemed ill-at-ease, cracking his knuckles and pacing up and down the foyer. The Millers retreated to the kitchen where they attempted to make hot drinks, but it was obvious that neither of them had any idea where anything was.
Mary sat with her back against the wall, wrapped in a quilt yanked from one of the guest beds. Mrs. Miller finally came in with some coffee, and Mary took the steaming cup gratefully. She didn't think she'd ever be warm again.
The swim back with Pamela in her grip had used up all her strength, and the shock was beginning to hit. Mary gritted her teeth to try to stop them from chattering. The liquid in her mug sloshed back and forth erratically. She didn't dare try to raise it to her lips. Pamela's parents had wanted to take her to the emergency room, but Mary felt fine. Just cold. And very tired.
This time Pamela had gone too far with her little games.
Pamela was curled in a ball on one of the couches with her face pressed into the back cushions. She refused to talk to anyone or even look at them. At first, Mary thought she had fallen asleep, but then she heard her sobbing softly and monotonously.
Rivka sat on the edge of the other sofa, biting her cuticles and casting nervous glances at her parents. Only Deirdre seemed content, sandwiched between the Bergmans, one hand in each of theirs.
Mary looked from Rivka to Pamela, then back again. Now that she knew the truth, she could see how they looked a little alike. She wondered if Pamela had subconsciously noticed the resemblance and been drawn to Rivka because of it?
How strange to think of their being cousins. And Pamela not really being a Miller after all. Not that it made any difference to Mary.
She'd already decided she'd had more than enough of Pamela either way.
"Truth or dare?" Doctor Hirschstein steepled his fingers and looked at Rivka over their tips.
"It's a game."
Rivka hadn't said anything on the endless ride home from the shore, curled up on the backseat with her sweater wadded up under her head for a pillow. She hadn't said anything after they got home either, and the next morning, she'd refused to get out of bed.
Her parents went from being angry to being scared. Her mother came and stood over her as she lay half-hidden under the covers, and Rivka had just closed her eyes and pretended she wasn't there. After a couple of days, she found she couldn't have talked even if she'd wanted to.
Which is why her parents had called Dr. Hirschstein, Aunt Ruth's psychiatrist. Rivka couldn't imagine how he was going to help her. There weren't any pills to wash away the terrible nightmares that kept her from sleeping, or the guilt that gnawed at her for what she'd done.
Pamela had nearly died. And it was all Rivka's fault. Those words repeated themselves over and over in her head. They drowned out everything else—even Dr. Hirschstein who talked louder and louder and finally started drumming his fingers on his desk impatiently.
The Bergmans were taking Deirdre away for a couple of weeks. And Pamela was spending the summer in some psychiatric facility her parents had found in Connecticut. At least that's what Deirdre told her that time she called when Rivka's mother wasn't home. Rivka didn't know about Mary.
Lance hadn't called since that weekend. So it was all a lie about his loving her. Rivka picked at her cuticles.
She would have to get over it eventually. But not yet. She didn't have the energy. She'd give it the summer, and then maybe she'd try harder. It would please her parents. They were all she had left.
Mary walked slowly back down Miller Lane after her shift behind the counter at Sobeleski's. She'd screwed up everything. Stealing from Mr. Sobeleski, kissing Deirdre's father…none of it had gotten her anywhere. Her life was over.
Judge Lemmen had let her go with a warning and a sentence of ten hours of community service. Great, Mary thought. Just what she needed—to work for free! Well, she guessed she was pretty lucky to get off that easily.
She pushed open the back door to their house. Her mother was in the kitchen cleaning lettuce for a salad. Her clothes were on the right way round, her hair was combed, and she was clean. Mary supposed that was something. At least she'd been able to help her mother.
She looked up as Mary entered. "A letter came for you." She motioned toward a stack of mail on the counter.
Mary sifted through the circulars and junk mail until she found a long, thin envelope with her name on it. She took it upstairs and threw it on her dresser.
She found it again later that night as she was getting ready for bed. She slipped a finger under the flap, and the sharp edge of the envelope sliced into her finger.
She swore and sucked at the cut. She slid the piece of paper from the envelope and shook it open.
"Dear Mary," it began. Mary sat down on the edge of the bed.
The letter was from the Miller Family Foundation informing her that she has been awarded a full scholarship to Crestview College, Mr. Miller's alma mater.
The paper shook in Mary's hands as she read, and she had to go over it a second time to be sure she'd gotten it right.
She was going to college. All because she'd saved Pamela's miserable life. She couldn't believe it. Her life wasn't over after all.
Maybe it was just beginning.
The End