by Cooper, Doug
What Crystal didn’t know until much later in her life was that she was actually born in China when her mom was teaching English and Spanish in Shanghai. Valeria had graduated from UC Berkeley with a music degree, and somehow decided the best way to grow artistically was to teach foreign languages in China, so she could travel and see the world. All Valeria initially told Crystal about her father was that he was Chinese and that things didn’t work out. To further sever the ties, when Valeria applied for an American passport for Crystal she dropped Cai Yin completely and used the name Crystal, with Valeria’s maiden name of Morales, which she later changed to Moore, de-ethnicizing to help her get acting and singing gigs. It also made it more difficult to find them if the father ever came looking after they had moved to Los Angeles just before Crystal’s second birthday. Fortunately, Valeria never had to find out that Crystal one day would use another name yet again to conceal her identity, this time for a completely different type of stage.
LA was the only place Crystal remembered living as a child, so she assumed they had always lived in the small studio apartment in Silver Lake. It wasn’t much, but they didn’t need much. It’s probably also why she didn’t feel any urgency to leave the shoebox studio at Siegel Suites. She was most comfortable in tight, cramped spaces. In the Silver Lake studio, they had a kitchen area with a table, a big closet for all their clothes, and a living area with a few chairs, cable TV, and a couch that folded out into a bed when it was time to sleep. Valeria always went to sleep when Crystal did unless she had picked up a gig singing backup for one of the local bands. In those cases, Crystal was always asleep when Valeria got home, so she never heard anything. Sometimes Crystal woke up early in a panic that her mom didn’t make it home, but she would roll over and always find Valeria lying next to her. Snuggling closer, Crystal would instantly fall back asleep.
That night before Crystal’s first day of kindergarten, when Crystal learned her real name was Cai Yin, Valeria, probably assuming Crystal had fallen asleep, stopped humming the lullaby. Crystal rolled over. Blinking several times and staring blankly at her mom, she pretended to be half asleep.
Valeria said, “I’m sorry, baby. Did I wake you?”
“No, mama. I was having a dream.” She pressed her body closer to her mother’s.
“A good one or a bad one?” Valeria asked.
“I don’t know,” Crystal said. “Just a dream. It was about my father. What was he like?”
Valeria leaned over and kissed her forehead. “That’s not a discussion for tonight, baby. You got school in the morning—we both do. We’ll talk about this another time.” In addition to the singing gigs, Valeria taught music at a nearby preschool, the same one Crystal had graduated from the previous year. Crystal wished her mother was moving on with her and continued to wish that every year she advanced, going forward. She knew she would miss seeing her mother at school every day and hearing the other kids talk about how nice and beautiful Miss V, as they all called her at the school, was.
“You promise?” Crystal asked.
Valeria kissed her again. “Cross my heart.” She traced an X on her chest and tapped Crystal on the end of the nose. “Now you get some sleep.” She reached over, shut off the light, and curled up behind Crystal, wrapping her arms around and pulling Crystal to her chest. Crystal could feel her mother’s heartbeat against her back. She listened to the sound of the traffic on the street below until she fell asleep. She was happy. She had everything.
Dow Jones Close: Closed
Chapter Thirteen
Date: Monday, February 25, 2013
Dow Jones Open: 14,000.57
Bill and Darlene had been to Vegas enough over the years that he knew exactly what he was looking for when buying their retirement home: close to Fremont Street, no stairs, a westward view, and no upkeep. They had always felt more comfortable downtown. Of course, since he would be on a fixed income, the affordability was important, too, but it was more the history and the openness. They liked that while the area around the downtown casinos had changed, the places themselves were relatively the same since they first started coming, and they could easily move between casinos. On the strip, the long distance between properties made them feel like prisoners once they were inside. With the no-stairs criterion, he was just thinking ahead. While they were both still pretty spry and able to get around, he knew that would probably change at some point. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to have to trudge up and down stairs. The westward view was for Darlene. She adored the Vegas sunsets, watching the sun dip behind the Spring Mountains and Red Rock Canyon radiating the full spectrum of color across the valley. The no-upkeep stipulation was all him. He was retired after all. There was no way he was spending his days doing yard work or cleaning a pool, especially in the desert heat.
Their familiarity with the area allowed them to slip quickly into a comfortable routine. On Sundays, they would walk down to Du-par’s at the Golden Gate and split the Vegas Stack, which was three pancakes. One each was not enough and two apiece too many, so splitting the stack of three was perfect. After breakfast, they would casino hop, but they rarely gambled together. Darlene liked to play the slots, while Bill was a video poker player and both had different styles. Darlene preferred to stick and move, never getting too comfortable at any particular machine. She would play a small fixed amount at one then move on to another until she hit a decent jackpot. Bill’s strategy was to find a machine serviced by an attractive cocktail waitress and set up camp until he hit a royal flush, his money ran out, or Darlene was ready to move to a new casino. The breakfast was filling enough that they would skip lunch, and their dinner was determined by how their fortunes ran that day. If they both won, they would go to one of the nicer sit-down restaurants. If only one was the winner, it was the loser’s choice of sandwich or pizza shop with the winner paying. If both lost, they went back home licking their wounds with their tails between their legs, and Darlene whipped up something from what they had in the fridge. They enjoyed their new life. It was predictable, comfortable, and most importantly for Darlene, Bill was with her all day and not out risking his life.
On this Sunday, Bill noticed he was almost finished with his half of the stack and Darlene had just been picking at hers. “Everything OK, hon?” Bill said. “You’ve barely made a dent.”
Darlene forced a smile. “Just not hungry this morning.”
“Well, there’s a first. Usually I got to fight you off from my half. You sure you feel all right? Your color is looking a little off.” Bill had noticed she wasn’t herself the past week. Although small in stature, especially when next to him and Hughie, she had always been the engine of the family. Lately though, she had been quieter and seemed a bit down. He had asked about it several times, but she had insisted everything was fine. Bill assumed it had something to do with Hughie, and she just wasn’t telling him. For the most part she had accepted the secret relationship she had to maintain with their son, but every so often it would well up inside her, and she and Bill would have to have the talk again about how it was Hughie’s responsibility to apologize if the relationship were to be mended. Bill reached for her hand. “We can just go home and rest this afternoon if you want. All these places will be here tomorrow.”
“Don’t be silly,” Darlene said, putting her hand in his. “Probably just need to move around a bit.”
They paid the check and walked out to Fremont Street, deciding to stroll and get some fresh air first. A few steps into the closed-off and canopied street now known as the Fremont Street Experience, Darlene doubled over, clutching her upper abdomen. Bill eased her down to the sidewalk. “Here, just sit,” he said. “Can I get you something? Maybe some water?”
“No, I’ll be fine,” she said. “Probably just something I ate.”
Bill’s voice trembled. “But you hardly ate anything, and what you ate, I ate too.” Darlene looked up and smiled at Bill to quell the fear
that he knew she could hear in his voice, but the look only magnified his worry. The pale shade he noticed at breakfast had transformed to yellow. He cupped his hand under her chin and studied her face. The jaundice color had spilled into her eyes as well. “Hon, I think we need to get you to a hospital.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She got her feet underneath her and eased herself up with Bill’s help, but she couldn’t straighten her body. “Maybe we should just get a taxi and go home and rest.”
“Nonsense. We’re going to the emergency room.” Bill flagged over a security officer, who was already moving in their direction. Bill’s words exploded toward the officer. “We need to get her to a hospital.”
The officer arrived and looked her over. “Do you know what’s wrong?”
Panic seized Bill. “I have no idea. We need to call an ambulance.” Even Darlene didn’t argue with him this time. She remained doubled-over, holding her stomach, leaning into Bill’s chest as he kneeled beside her, both arms wrapped around her. Her eyes, usually filled with purpose and understanding, floated, searching for focus. He twirled his index finger through her hair, which was still the same short, textured cut it had always been but was now gray instead of auburn. His finger followed the same pattern he had done every day when she would greet him at the door after work and they would walk back into the house together to talk about their days. This time it was as much to comfort him as her.
The officer reached up to activate the radio clipped to his shoulder, tilting his head to call for an ambulance to the corner of Fremont and Main. Bill was used to being on the other side of this interaction, being the one to diffuse the stress and tension. But in that moment everything was happening too fast, yet still not happening fast enough. He begged for the officer to hurry. He recognized the same deliberate questions and actions from the officer that he had performed countless times before. A faint siren moaned in the distance, increasing in magnitude as the seconds passed.
Upon arrival, the paramedics checked Darlene’s vitals and immediately lifted her on a gurney and into the ambulance. Bill climbed in the back and rode with her, never letting go of her hand until arriving at the urgent care facility, where the nurses made him sit in the waiting area while they ran tests on Darlene. Not too happy about it, but realizing his protests were merely holding up the procedure, Bill reluctantly followed their instructions, flipping through magazines, standing, pacing, anything to make the time pass after Darlene disappeared into the back. After his fifth trip to the reception to ask for an update, the doctor, a male in his late thirties with red curly hair, came out and asked him back to the examination area.
Bill felt a sharp pain in his own stomach when he stepped behind the curtain and saw Darlene reclined in the bed with an IV hooked up to her skinny forearm. He couldn’t imagine his life without Darlene in it. Everything good he ever had was because of her. He rushed to her side and took hold of her hand. She opened her eyes and smiled. He said, “You gave me quite a scare.”
The doctor stood at the foot of the bed, a folder tucked under his freckled arm. “We put her on an IV. She was pretty dehydrated and her weight is significantly low.”
Bill stroked Darlene’s hair. “Her color looks better.”
“We also gave her something for the pain.” The doctor removed two X-rays from the folder and put them on the backlit display next to the bed. “Based on the pictures we took of the abdomen, there’s some abnormal activity in the pancreas and liver area.”
Bill said, “What do you mean abnormal?”
“Some more sophisticated imaging tests will need to be done,” the doctor said. “Depending on those, perhaps a biopsy.”
“Biopsy?” Bill moved closer to the screen as if he could tell what he was looking at. “So you think it might be cancer?”
Darlene was quiet the whole time. She had obviously heard all of it already or maybe the drugs had just taken over.
The doctor said, “I’m going to refer you to an oncologist.” He scribbled a name and address on a pad. “Here is a good one in the area.” He ripped off the paper and handed it to Bill. “Once the IV treatment is completed, she’ll be OK to go home, but get in to see the oncologist as soon as possible. It’s never good to put these things off.”
Bill said, “We’ll go first thing in the morning. You sure it’s OK for her to go home tonight?”
“She’ll be fine.” The doctor handed him a small envelope of pills. “These will help with the pain and keep her resting comfortably.”
Dow Jones Close: 13,784.17
Chapter Fourteen
Date: Monday, August 8, 2011
Dow Jones Open: 11,433.93
Penny often woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. She and Alec still slept in the same room and went to bed at the same time, but they weren’t together. They hadn’t been together in a long time. They were just sharing space. Each one just a reminder to the other, like all the other objects in the house, of the life they used to have.
Tonight was no different. She awoke and reached over to the opposite side of the bed, feeling for his warm body. Instead her hand rested in the impression in the sheets where he had been sleeping. She rubbed the vacated space, gauging the warmth to determine how long he had been gone. Ice cold. It had been a while. She rolled over and attempted sleep, but just like other nights and most things as of late, she failed. The room was black. Sunrise was still hours away. She got out of bed and treaded in the dark to the basement steps where Alec’s office was, stopping at the top and listening for the TV, some music, anything to indicate that he was still in the house and hadn’t left. She couldn’t bring herself to go down the stairway and find out for sure. She wanted to pad down the steps, crawl next to him on the couch, and lie between his legs with her back resting on his chest like she used to. Closing her eyes, she could still feel the warmth on her back and hear the sound of his slow, controlled breathing. This is how she wanted to fall back asleep. She just couldn’t. She wasn’t sure he would let her, and it was better not to know than be rejected.
Instead Penny retreated to the baby’s room, or what was supposed to be the baby’s room. A crib, dresser, and rocking chair, all a glossy white color, still occupied the room even though a baby never did, or, as it appeared, never would. The walls were also white, but it was just an eggshell primer. They had been waiting to finish once the baby was born and they knew the gender. The white furniture on the freshly treated hardwood floors with the soft, velvety enamel from the walls put her at ease. It was empty, just like her. But that was OK. At least nothing could hurt her in there.
She sat in the rocking chair and tottered back and forth. The sound of the rails rising and falling on the floor filled the space in her mind. Nothing could fill the void in her heart. She heard a creak, a slow groan. She stopped rocking, unsure whether it came from the house or somewhere inside her. She listened for another sound, an indication someone or something was there with her.
She thought Alec might be in the hallway. She pictured him standing with his hands and forehead resting on the door, frozen like she had been at the top of the basement steps. Rising from the chair, she walked over to the door and placed her hands and forehead where she thought his might be. She wanted to reach down, turn the handle and open the door. But she couldn’t. All she could do was turn and quietly shuffle back to the chair and rock herself to sleep.
When she awoke hours later, she crept back to the bedroom. Alec was facing away from the door with his back to the middle of the bed. She slid in next to him, careful not to wake him or cause him to roll over. He didn’t stir, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. They both just lay there, back to back, never touching or uttering a sound. As daylight slipped through the blinds and filled the room, she lay still, not wanting to be the first one up. She was like an adolescent in a stare-off, determined not be the first to blink. She waited for him to rise, and once she could he
ar him in the shower, she got up and made coffee, pretending like none of it ever happened.
During this sad time Alec communicated to her only by announcing his movements. I’m leaving for practice. I’m running to the store. I’m going golfing. And the last one he did a lot. First thing pretty much every morning. Just once she would’ve liked for him to ask her if she wanted to go, or really, just ask her to do anything. Her job had always been her hobby. She had tried to go back to work early, but the station had brought someone in on a six-month contract to cover for her while she was on maternity leave, and they didn’t want to break it. She had doubts about whether that was true or if they just weren’t sure she was ready to come back. That’s what they implied, at least, when she first approached them about returning early. The contract excuse came later when she pressed them.
Losing the baby had created a hole in her heart, and each time she heard Alec give another excuse for running away, it was like another spoonful was scooped out. She already felt empty, but she was learning that emptiness, like everything else, had varying degrees and levels, and she obviously wasn’t at the bottom yet. She needed something to fill her back up before she got there, or at least numb the pain. That was how the drinking started.
She always waited until Alec was gone. Not because she thought he would be upset; because by waiting, it felt like retaliating. The drinking was something she could do to counter his leaving and make the pain go away. By doing something, she wasn’t a victim anymore. She was taking action. She was fighting back.
Through the window she would watch him back out of the driveway, pouring straight vodka over ice into her coffee mug. Every time she pressed the mug to her lips, she swallowed in spite; she swallowed in anger. She liked the contrast of the cold and burning feeling filling her mouth. She liked having to force it down. She liked how even before he was out of sight, the warming sensation swelled in her stomach and spread through the rest of her body. He was nowhere close to his destination, but she was already at hers.