Lara Reznik - The Girl From Long Guyland

by Lara Reznik

  “What about Ben?” Katie asked. “He’s the hottest guy I’ve seen in this sucky town.”

  If she only knew my feelings for Ben. “You’ll have to figure that one out yourself. If I never see those dudes again, it will be too soon.”

  THE NEXT MORNING Denise and I were awakened by a knock on our door. “Telephone call for Laila,” said Mary Lou.

  I tread slowly to the hall phone dressed in my flannel nightgown, unsure what I wanted to say to Chris. Did I even want to speak with him?

  The receiver dangled in the air. What was wrong with those people? Chris, Ben, Ivy. The family. Did they even know what the word family meant? Still indecisive, I grabbed the phone and put it up to my ear.

  “Laila, it’s Ben. Can you meet me for breakfast at Rodman’s?”

  “Ef-you, Ben. I told you last night I never want to see any of you ever again.”

  “You do want your coat and clothes back, no?

  “Well yes, but I-I can send my roommate over to fetch them,” I said.

  “Laila. I’ve got something to share I’ve never told you before. See you in fifteen.”

  “Do you love me, Ben?” That was something I still wanted to know, needed to know.

  The sound of the dial tone was all the response I got.

  Every bone in my body said, DO NOT GO. Stay at Bodine with your friends where life is safe. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know the family scene was toxic. But some powerful current named Ben Franklin Jones sucked me back in.

  I quickly dressed and brushed my teeth. No time to go through the tedious process of straightening my hair. I left it tangled in waves. Denise loaned me her jacket and rode down in the elevator with me to the lobby. She was such a good friend.

  On the ride she squeezed my hand. “Are you in love with Chris?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She glared at me. “Didn’t you tell me you’d slept with his best friend?”

  “Yes, but it was dark and… it was an accident,” I said.

  “Do you have feelings for Ben?”

  I let out my breath. “I’m confused about my feelings for both of them. Why are you grilling me about it?”

  “I’m trying to help you sort things out,” she said.

  “I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

  “You’re a complicated girl, Laila. Much more so than I’d ever have thought.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Is that good or bad?”

  The doors of the elevator slid open in the lobby. I stepped out but Denise remained inside. I held the door open with my arm and repeated my question to her.

  She smiled. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘What’s good for the goose is good for the gander’?”

  As I walked down Main Street, I wondered if that was Denise’s way of telling me to forgive Chris because I’d done the same thing. But it wasn’t the same. Did Chris even know about my night with Ben?

  The answers awaited me at Rodman’s diner.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Laila’s Explanation

  Austin, Texas, to Tucson, Arizona, 2012

  Ed’s Blackberry interrupts my explanation to Steve and him about what had happened after my return with the suitcase from New Mexico to Connecticut.

  “Hold that thought,” Ed says then speaks into the phone. “Mama, cómo estás?”

  He pads outside to the back porch leaving Steve and me in the living room.

  “I was in law school when everyone was going ape shit,” Steve says. “I often regret missing out on all the fun.”

  “Eduardo was in the army. Not sure he’d agree with you.”

  Moments later, Ed returns. His face is the color of the Navajo white paint he uses in all the rentals. “Juanita’s mother just suffered a massive heart attack. They don’t expect her to survive more than twenty-four hours.”

  “So Juanita’s leaving?” I try to keep the tone of my voice from sounding too joyful. While I feel bad that her mother is dying, I’m thrilled she’ll be departing Austin. Hopefully for good.

  My pleasure is short-lived. “I’m driving her back to New Mexico,” Ed says.

  I sigh. “Why? I mean, can’t she fly?” Visions of Eduardo and the grieving beauty spending thirteen endless hours alone in her Mustang fill my imagination.

  “She won’t fly. Doesn’t like airplanes any more than I do.”

  “Yes, of course.” I recall the brief conversation I had with Juanita on this topic. “Do you have to go?”

  “Virgie’s truly been there for Mama since my dad died. If you came with me to New Mexico more often, you’d know that.”

  “So you’re not going to Mera’s engagement party?” The minute the question leaves my mouth, I’m aware how shallow it makes me sound. Funeral of Mama’s best friend vs. party for my niece. Hello. “I’m sorry. Go to Sabinal. Your mother needs you.”

  “I’m glad you understand,” Ed says. “I’ll only be gone a few days. We can sort everything out when I get back.”

  There are more cracks in my marriage than I’d imagined. When we’d moved to Austin from New Mexico ten years ago, we both had agreed it was best for Ed to visit his mother alone. She’d never been all that fond of me, the Jewish girl from Long Island.

  Steve, who’d been sitting quietly through the discussion, clears his throat. “Is there anything I can do to help you out?”

  “Find Laila a good criminal attorney. God knows what she did in 1970. I’m leaving in an hour.”

  I TRY TO PUT all thoughts of Ed and Juanita out of my mind on my flight to Tucson to attend my niece’s engagement party. As my Southwest flight descends into Tucson International Airport, my fear from the turbulence is countered by the magnificence of the mountain view before me.

  My sister Amby greets me at the baggage claim with a big hug. “Where’s Ed?”

  “Long story,” I say.

  “Is everything okay with you two?”

  Tears sting my eyelids. “My life is falling apart.” Once again I don’t know where to start. Should I tell her about Joey and my past, my problems with Ed, the issues at LBJ? I pause for a few minutes and search for the right words. “Do you remember when I left Bridgeport for New Mexico with Katie Birnbaum?” Amby was sixteen at the time and busy with her own transformation in high school.

  “Sort of. Mom and Dad were upset with you attending college so far away. They suspected your boyfriend and his friend were going with you.”

  “They did go with us,” I say.

  “So what does this have to do with Ed not coming?”

  “My past has come back to haunt me. There is also the matter of a dead body.”

  My sister arches one of her professionally plucked brows. “Oh my God.”

  “You have no idea.” We proceed through the airport to her Prius in short-term parking. On the drive home, I fill her in on the recent events starting with Katie calling to inform me about Denise’s suicide.

  “Tell me about the body.”

  “I’ve never told anyone, not even Eduardo. It’s part of why we’re estranged right now. You have to promise me to keep this between us.”

  “I’m your sister.”

  I slump down in the car seat. “There was a terrible accident the night before the Kent State massacre. This boy Joey was doing drugs and ended up jumping out of the window of a third story building. Well, I thought that’s what happened anyway.”

  “Slow down here. What do you mean you thought that’s what happened?”

  “He may have been pushed out the window.”

  “Weren’t you there?”

  “I’d gone to pick my friend Katie up from the airport. When we got back to the house, Joey was lying on the ground in the backyard with a broken neck.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Chris and his friend Ben convinced me if we did, there’d be a big bust and things would get ugly for everyone. We decided to drive to New Mexico with the body. You have no idea how much I regret that decision.”

>   “No shit! How’d you get the body across state lines?”

  “In the trunk of Katie’s Saab. We dumped it somewhere east of Albuquerque.”

  “How does Denise’s suicide tie into this?”

  “She was Joey’s girlfriend and the only one there besides Ben and Chris. Her suicide note implicated Chris.”

  We pull up to the driveway of Amby’s large adobe home in the ritzy Catalina Foothills community. She says, “Oy vey,” and rolls down her window.

  My beautiful niece races from the house and greets me. She’s freaked out about the seating arrangements for her engagement party.

  My sister tells her she’ll be there in a minute. We both exit the car and head up the cobblestone path to the door. Amby squeezes my hand. “I’ve got to focus on this party right now, but we’ll definitely talk more later.”

  I check my watch. It’s noon. The party isn’t until seven that evening. “Can I borrow Mera’s old Volvo for a few hours?”

  “Where are you going?”

  I blush. “My plan is to meet with both Ben and Chris separately to figure out what really happened that night.”

  “Chris and Ben live here in Tucson?”

  I look sheepish. “Forgot to mention that, I guess.”

  “Nice omission.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t forget to tell you on purpose.”

  She eyeballs me like only a sibling can. “Is that the real reason you came up here for the party?”

  “No way. I want to be here for Mera. They just happen to live here, too.”

  “I don’t think you should go anywhere near those two,” she says.

  I take her hand. “Stop acting like Ma. I’ve got to find out the truth.”

  “Oh, for crissakes. Take the car. But make sure you’re back by five.”

  I hug her. “Thank you.”

  After transferring my roll-on bag inside the house, I give my frazzled niece a hug. I offer her a few comforting words, then retreat to the privacy of the guest-room and call Ben.

  He sounds surprised to hear from me, especially when I tell him I’m in Tucson. We agree to meet at a salad bar on University Boulevard in an hour.

  An hour and a half later he flashes his sexy smile and embraces me in a hug that lingers longer than it should. “Sorry, I’m late. I couldn’t get the bike started and the van’s in the shop.” We enter inside the restaurant and settle into a red vinyl booth. “What brings you to my part of the woods?”

  “Are you kidding?” I say. “The P.I. contacted someone from the FBI. He’s already questioned me.”

  “Shit.” He rubs his neck. “What did you tell him?”

  “You know what, Ben? I’m tired of you and Chris playing me. I want the damn truth for a change. When I met with Chris in Austin, he said you were in bed with Denise that night and Joey freaked out when he walked in on the two of you.”

  He said, “I was in bed with Denise? What bullshit.”

  “Really?”

  “Chris is the one who went to bed with Denise that night. And it wasn’t the first time, or the last, I might add.”

  I feel nauseated, a state that coincides every time I’m with Chris or Ben. “What are you talking about?”

  “Who do you think was under the covers with him the night you came home from Taos?”

  “I-I thought it was Ivy?”

  “Hello, Pollyanna. It was your dear friend, Denise.”

  “I don’t believe you.” But when I search my memory, I recall she was not in the dorm when I got home that night. That’s why I went to see Katie. Even now, so many years later, Denise’s betrayal breaks my heart. A vision of her burrowed under the covers makes me want to cry.

  “Do you care to hear my version of that night?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” I say.

  “Did Chris tell you about the angel dust?”

  I lower my eyes. “He told me you’d all gotten high on it when I went to the airport.”

  “We played a game of strip poker. Joey got mad at Denise when she took off her blouse.”

  “Chris said he’d passed out and found you in bed with Denise later.”

  Ben’s face swells. “Whoa, that’s not how it went down.”

  “Okay, so what’s your story?”

  “Denise told Joey to go home, that she no longer wanted to be his girlfriend. He stumbled down the stairs and we all thought he’d gone back to the dorm.”

  “But he didn’t?”

  “Chris and Denise started making out on the couch so I went to my bedroom to play my guitar. A half hour later, I heard this big ruckus in the attic. Turns out Joey must have snuck back into the apartment and found Chris and Denise together up there. When I got to them, Joey had Chris in a headlock. Denise was screaming. I managed to unhinge the big guy off of Chris and calm him down. Joey collapsed on the floor crying like a two-year-old.

  Ben’s face hardened. “I offered him a Quaalude and headed downstairs to get the bottle. Next thing I knew, I heard glass shattering. I raced back up the stairs and Joey was charging Chris with a broken beer bottle. As he headed toward him, Chris pushed him out the window.”

  “You swore on your dog’s life that it was an accident.”

  “It was self-defense. That’s like an accident.”

  “Why believe you over Chris?” I ask.

  “Because he’s nuts. And he fucked your best friend.”

  And I fucked his.

  “There’s more. After we left you and Katie in New Mexico, Denise came and lived with us in Tucson. Chris treated her like shit. She worked at Denny’s while he sat on his ass all day getting high. At night he trolled bars and balled other chicks.”

  There’s always more with Ben and Chris. They think I’m the same stupid chick who wandered into the family in 1970. But they’re wrong and I’m going to get to the bottom of this if it’s the last thing I do.

  “Do you want to know why I’ve never married, Laila?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “No one’s ever held a candle to you. If you don’t believe anything else I’ve said today, I want you to go home believing that.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The Reconstruction

  Bridgeport, Connecticut, 1970

  While paralyzed by the corrosive power of my feelings for Ben, I opened the glass door to Rodman’s determined not to let him get the best of me. I only had half an hour before Professor Friedman’s American History class.

  Doc was standing by the cash register with a couple of biker buddies. When he saw me come in, he rushed over and gave me a hug. “You did good, honey. Saved our business and our asses.”

  So far Doc was the only one who had expressed his appreciation for me risking my life. I moved down the aisle toward the last booth where Ben sat alone with my pea coat, pink bag, and fate in his hands.

  He looked up from the menu with veiled, liquid eyes. “Sit down, Laila. Think of this as a new beginning.”

  “Beginning of what?”

  He reached across the table and took my hands in his.

  The electricity of his touch radiated through my body.

  “Run away with me,” he said.

  Did I hear him right? “Are you serious?”

  “What I dream of and what I can really do are two different things.”

  Always playing with me. “Yes, of course,” I said.

  “You have no idea how much I want us to be together. But it would kill Chris. He actually cried last night when you left. Doc came over and read him the riot act about his behavior.”

  “It’s not just the affair.” I said. “I mean who am I to—”

  He squeezed my hand. “Shhh. Say no more.”

  “We need to talk about that night. I can’t live like this.”

  He locked eyes with me. “That’s why I called you.”

  “What’re you two talking about?” Doc said, as he plopped down next to Ben.

  Ben moved over to give him more space. “I’ve tried to conv
ince Laila that Chris is devastated.”

  “Chris wants you to come home. We all want you back,” Doc said.

  I grabbed my coat and bag and slid out from the booth. “Gotta go.” I couldn’t afford to be late for Dr. Friedman’s class.

  “At least come to dinner tonight. Ivy is cooking something special for you,” Ben said.

  My gaze widened. “Ivy’s cooking for me?”

  “She wants to show her gratitude,” Ben said. “You’ll be there, right? We’ll talk then.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I ran down the aisle and out the door, then raced across campus. Once again Ben had toyed with my feelings. What did he really want from me anyway?

  I ARRIVED OUT OF BREATH to class just as Dr. Friedman was closing the door. He glared at me as I took my seat in the back of the classroom. “Just in time, Ms. Levin. Are you ready for the exam?”

  “Oh my God. I thought it was on Wednesday.” I had carefully checked my assignments before the trip. But after everything I’d been through, I could barely remember my name. Pulling out an assignment pad, I lashed through the pages until I found the following scribbled in my handwriting: Test on Civil War Reconstruction – April 20th.

  “What’s the date today, sir?”

  “It’s Monday, the eighteenth of April,” he replied.

  “April eighteenth?”

  Dr. Friedman shook his head. “All day.”

  “Wow, I can’t believe that.”

  “And why is that Ms. Levin?”

  I shouted, “It’s my birthday today,” and then felt embarrassed by my outburst as a couple of kids sang the happy birthday song. So much had happened to me in the last few days.

  “That will be all, class.” Dr. Friedman said. “Ms. Levin, the test is in two days from now. Make sure you’re prepared. And on time.”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  Suppressing yawns, I took copious notes and tried hard to concentrate on Dr. Friedman’s ninety-minute lecture on the Civil War Reconstruction. After class, Dr. Friedman tapped my shoulder. “Ms. Levin, you look exhausted. What’s going on with you?”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night.”