Cheap Diamonds

by Norris Church Mailer

  On the way into the loft, I had to dodge out of the way of a guy carrying a big painting, which was a common occurrence and horrific, as you can imagine, in a big wind. I pictured him taking off like the Flying Nun, soaring down to the Battery and on out to sea. There were a couple of other painters in our building, and three sculptors. It was almost like a big family, the neighborhood, and although there weren’t any supermarkets or dry cleaners or drugstores nearby, there were some new things coming in, like the Wooster Street Performing Garage, where they put on plays. Unfortunately you had to stand up for the shows. Maybe they would be able to afford chairs soon. At 99 Wooster Street there was a place called the GAA Firehouse, which Sal loved, since it was one of the few gay dance halls in town. It seemed like wherever there was a big concentration of artists, there were a lot of gay men. Well, why not? They were the most creative, and the most fun. Nearly all the hairdressers, makeup people, and stylists were gay, plus a large percentage of the male models. I didn’t know of any gay women in the business, although I’m sure there must have been a few. Sal once said, “Don’t you know, my darling, that gay men have the best qualities of women and lesbians have the worst qualities of men? I mean, think about it—none of them have the slightest interest in decorating, clothes, or makeup and hair. They go to barbershops, wear flannel shirts, drink beer out of the can, and watch sports on TV, for Pete’s sake!” Maybe he was right. I’d never met a gay woman. Not that I knew of.

  I pulled on the rope in the elevator, let myself in, and went over to my easel. The heat was never that great, so I kept my sweater on. I had an old pair of gloves I’d cut the fingers out of to paint in when it got too cold, but today wasn’t all that bad. There were electric heaters scattered around, but not near my work area, so I went looking for one. As a rule, I never went into Lale’s and Sal’s private spaces, but I figured there must be a heater behind Lale’s curtained-off room, so I stuck my head in—and screamed. Lale was lying on his bed.

  “What are you doing here? You scared me to death. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t feel like talking.” His eyes were red and he looked awful.

  “Are you sick or something? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” He sounded like he had been crying.

  “Zack? What’s going on?” I sat down on his futon and put my hand on his shoulder. He was gritting his teeth, holding back the tears.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay. You don’t have to.” I waited. I knew he did want to talk. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No. It’s just that…oh, Cherry. I did something bad, and now it’s turned out awful for everyone. I hate myself. I’m nothing but a stupid selfish model.” He said it like it was a dirty word.

  “Come on. Don’t say that. So you’re a model. Big deal. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, how many guys your age back home make as much money as you do? None of them, I can tell you right now. They’re sacking groceries at the Kroger’s and you’re in the magazines they put out on the newsstand.” I patted his arm, rubbed my hand up and down it, warming him up. “Now. What did you do that was so awful?”

  “Don’t try to make me feel better. There’s nothing you can do about it. Go ahead and paint, I’ll just lay here for a while.”

  “I don’t like to see you hurting like this. I care about you. I really do.” Surprisingly, I found it was true.

  That seemed to loosen up something in him. He turned over and wrapped his arms around my legs, put his head in my lap, and sobbed. I stroked his hair and talked like I would to a baby.

  “Just let it out, sweetie. Let it go, Lale. There’s nothing you can do about it now. You can’t turn back time and you wouldn’t even if you could.”

  Shoot. Lale. I knew I’d make that mistake sooner or later. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

  He clung to my leg as I brushed his hair with my fingers. It was thick and wheat-colored, like Tripp’s was, but curlier. I wiped his cheeks and rocked him. Finally he pulled himself together, realized what I had said.

  “Did you call me Lale?”

  “Did I?” He’d noticed.

  “How do you know that name?” He sat up on the side of the futon. “Cherry? What’s going on?”

  “Zack…Lale…I know who you are. I know Cassie. I know about the baby. I know all of it.” He had a look on his face like I’d just hit him over the head with a frying pan. “I came to Buchanan just after you left. I practice taught with Father Leo up at St. Juniper’s. Cassie was my friend, and I was supposed to find you for her up here in New York and talk to you, but I never could get up my nerve to do it. That’s why I was so weird and cold to you. I’m sorry.”

  He got up and went into the other room, and I heard him pacing back and forth. He slammed down something that sounded like books. Then he threw something big like a chair. A few more things crashed around. I was afraid to move or say anything. Just when I was trying to figure the best way to sneak out, he pushed the curtain back and came in. He was still agitated but had worked off some of the anger.

  “I wish you had said something about all this sooner. I feel pretty stupid right about now.”

  “I know I should have. But how was I going to casually bring it up? You have to admit it was a pretty awful thing you did to her.”

  “I guess I wasn’t thinking about her when I did it.”

  “I guess not.”

  “And then it seemed like it was too late.” He sat beside me on the futon. I inched away a little bit. “But you’re right about one thing,” he went on, in a quieter voice. “If I had it to do over, I’d still leave.” He turned and looked at me, right in the eyes. “Tell the truth—would you go back to Arkansas now and teach school or whatever it was you did?”

  “No. No, I wouldn’t. I understand. But that doesn’t make what you did right.”

  “No, but that’s the way it is.” Neither one of us said anything for a minute.

  There was no good way to ask this…. “Do you know the baby…died?”

  “I just found out. Mama wrote me. Did you know my mama?”

  I shook my head.

  “You might as well read it. You know it all anyhow. It’s all my fault, not hers. I didn’t lie outright about it, but I let her believe the baby might not be mine, all the time knowing it was. But that I can fix. I’ll write her and tell her the truth.”

  I bit my tongue on that one. At least that would help the situation some. He picked up a pink letter and handed it to me. Her handwriting was round, like a girl’s. I felt like I shouldn’t read it, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  Dear Lale,

  Well, that harelipped baby died. I’m glad it’s over with. Now maybe things will get back to normal. Your daddy has been just awful to live with ever since that girl had that baby. It was in the hospital in Little Rock and over my objections he went up there the very day it died. Then, to add to the insult, he went to the funeral and sat with her like she was family. Everybody in town is talking about it and making me out to be the bad guy for not taking her to my bosom, but they just don’t know the truth. Your daddy gave her all the money you sent. I was saving it for you, knowing you would need it one of these days when you get back home, and there was no need for you to send her so much. But your daddy wouldn’t have it any other way, so she has it. She made out pretty good, I would say. I tried to get him to write to you, but he is being stubborn. He said he feels like he doesn’t have a son. No matter what, though, you will always be my baby. Don’t feel bad about any of it. You paid your dues and then some, even if they weren’t yours to pay. That girl’s still got your car, and this morning she took off, and as far as I know she didn’t tell anybody where she was going. I say it’s good riddance.

  I wish you could come back for Christmas, but I understand if you don’t want to right now. In time, it will be all forgotten and you can come home again.

  I love you so much,

  Mom

  Baby had
said Janet was a cold woman, but it sounded like she had dropped a marble or two. To be bitter might be natural, but she took it to a point way past natural. The thing that scared me, though, was the part about Cassie leaving. She wouldn’t get my letter. I handed him back the letter and sighed.

  “Well? What do you think I should do?”

  “I don’t know. Have you had anything to eat?” I had to take one thing at a time. Right now, I needed to get Lale up and moving, and then we could talk about what to do. If anything.

  “Not since breakfast.”

  “Get your coat on and let’s go to the Broome Street Bar and get a burger. It’ll make you feel better.”

  The Broome Street Bar, a workers’ lunch place, wasn’t the fanciest joint in town, but it had good burgers. We ordered two with tomatoes, pickles, and onions, thick fries on the side.

  “Do you think Cassie might come up here?” he said through a mouthful. “I don’t think I could face her.” That thought had been on my mind, too.

  “No, I doubt if she’d do that. She’s got her pride. She probably just needed to get away by herself for a little while and think everything through. If she calls or writes me, I’ll let you know. She’s still my friend, you know.”

  But I didn’t know if I would still be her friend when she saw the ad.

  34

  * * *

  DR. NICK

  Cassie stopped off at the diner to tell Bernadette she was going to Hot Springs or Little Rock or someplace to get away for a few days and think.

  “Sweetheart, do you think that’s wise, to go off all by yourself like that? Why don’t you stay with us and let us take care of you? You’ll be back to your old self before long. I know it sounds corny, but time really will make it better.”

  “Y’all don’t worry about me. I think I’ll maybe go down to Bathhouse Row in Hot Springs and get me one of those massages and sit in a pool of hot water. Wouldn’t that be something? I just really need to be by myself for a few days, okay? I promise I’ll call y’all. Don’t worry.”

  “Well, you can’t tell me not to worry. It’s nearly Christmas. Will you be back by then? I really need you at the diner. That Melanie Johnston is just plumb lazy. I’m having to do way too much of the work.”

  “Of course I’ll be back for Christmas. Then we’ll fire Melanie’s butt and you can take it easy again. But I gotta get out of here, Bernadette, just for a while, to get my head back on straight. And at least try not to worry. You’re worse than Mama.”

  In the end, Bernadette couldn’t stop her any more than her mother could. She had three thousand dollars in her purse, the other two spent on the hospital and doctors and the funeral for Lalea. At least Lale had done that much, and she appreciated it. Maybe he did still love her, at least a little bit. And while she hated to lie to Annie and Bernadette, she had to go find him and see for herself if there was even one little shred left. Not that she believed there was, but until she heard it from his mouth, she didn’t think she could go on with her life. She needed closure, as they say in the funeral business.

  She waved as she put the Thunderbird in gear and set out, not even looking back at Bernadette standing in front of the diner, waving until she was out of sight. Never in her life had she been on a trip where she didn’t have a schedule—nobody to call, nobody waiting for her to get there on time for school or work. She was free. Maybe that’s what Lale felt like when he left out that night in the back of Snuffy’s truck.

  She drove down through the mountains, stopping at a luncheonette/gas station that had a big sign saying BLUE BIRD DINER—EAT AND GET GAS. The menu was heavy on chili with peppers, fried onions, hot dogs, and sauerkraut, and Cassie realized she should pay attention to what the sign said, so she ordered a tuna melt. There was a gift shop attached full of blue glass birds called the Blue Bird of Happiness. She bought one, feeling kind of silly, but she could use some happiness. It was cheerful, sitting on the dashboard with the sun shining through it, splashing blue light on the seat.

  Going down the twisting road, her mind was a tangle of what had happened, what she might have done differently, what might have been, what might be. Before she headed toward New York, though, she had a stop to make in Little Rock. The T-bird seemed to go by itself to Children’s Hospital, like it knew the way. She pulled into the parking lot, took a deep breath, and got out of the car and stretched. It was already late afternoon. Where had the hours gone? Well, she was here. She needed to go back one more time, to see if any part of Lalea was still there. And she wanted to see where they’d put the papier-mâché animals Baby’s class had donated. Baby had told her they put up a little plaque saying the animals were there in the memory of Lalea Culver. She’d take a picture of it to add to the pitifully small stack she had of the baby. That would make her feel better, to know that even though nobody knew who Lalea Culver was, they would see her name and wonder. It would show she had at one time existed. Maybe some of the other mothers she knew would still be there and she’d check to see how they were doing.

  The waiting room looked the same. There were still piles of books and knitting, anxious mothers putting on yellow scrub suits. Only the faces had changed. She went past the glass window to the activity room and admired the big giraffe, elephant, and dinosaur Baby’s class had made. They were sturdy enough for the children to sit on, and there were little bald kids with big smiles in hospital johnnies and I.V.s dangling from their arms clinging to the animals. It was harder than she had thought it would be. She took a couple of Polaroids of the plaque.

  “Hey, big guy,” she said to a little boy sitting on the elephant. “What’s your horse’s name?”

  “This isn’t a horse!” The boy giggled.

  “No? Then what is it?”

  “It’s an elephant.”

  “Oh, right. It has that big ol’ nose. What’s his name?”

  “Peanut.”

  “Peanut. Because he likes to eat peanuts?”

  “Yeah. And because he’s not as big as a big elephant. If he was big, I’d call him Jumbo.”

  She ran her hand over his little bald head, smooth as a peeled egg, tears in her eyes.

  “Ride ’em, cowboy!” she said, and walked out of the room.

  She went back to the preemie ward. She didn’t see any of the mothers she had known there. They had all gone, one way or the other. One of the nurses behind the glass spotted her and came out and gave her a big hug. That started the tears flowing for sure.

  “How’re you holding up, Cassie?” The nurse held her at arm’s length and looked kindly into her face.

  “I’m okay. I’m really okay. I wanted to see the animals. A friend of mine did them. I guess I just needed to come by one more time.”

  “I’m glad to see you,” she said gently, “but if I were you I’d make it my last visit. You can get lost here. One of the mothers started coming around after her daughter died, and it didn’t go so well. She began volunteering and was here every day. She got obsessed with the place and couldn’t get back to her real life.”

  “Oh, I’m not doing that. In fact, I have to run right now. I have someplace I need to be.”

  “Well, you take care. You’re a special girl to all of us.” The nurse hugged her again and left.

  She stood for another minute and the place seemed at once familiar and strange to her. Some other baby was in the crib that had belonged to Lalea. Lalea was gone. She was really gone from this earth. Cassie walked out, relieved that she didn’t have to come back to this place again. Ever.

  As the elevator went down a couple of floors, it stopped and Dr. Nick Barker stepped in. He glanced at her, then looked again, as if trying to place her.

  “Cassie? How are you doing? I thought…”

  “I just came by for a visit. No, Lalea died. She’s not here anymore.” She raised her chin when she said it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” There was an awkward silence. Cassie kept her eyes on the numbers as the eleva
tor descended. Dr. Nick kept glancing at her. The doors opened and they walked out. Cassie kept moving. She wasn’t going to say good-bye. What was the point? But Dr. Nick called after her.

  “Cassie? Say…I was just on my way to get some dinner. Want to join me? I know the cafeteria’s not the greatest food, but it’s cheap and fast.”

  Dr. Barker was not handsome, but not ugly, either; starting to bald, he was old but not too old, probably mid-to late thirties. He couldn’t be interested in her that way. He probably just felt bad for her and wanted to find out what happened with Lalea. Well, why not eat with him? She had to eat. She’d find a hotel later and then decide what she was going to do. She didn’t have a timetable to get to New York. The idea of being on the road alone was not as appealing now as it had been early in the morning.

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  It was the dinner-hour rush, and a mass of visitors, as well as technicians, doctors, and nurses wearing scrubs, some in hair and shoe coverings from the O.R., grabbed plate lunches or sandwiches, wolfed them down like it was their last meal. It was strange for Cassie to see them out of their normal element, joking and laughing. They seemed to all be having a great time. How could that be, when they worked with sick and dying people every day? She’d be a wreck if she had to work in a hospital.

  “The barbecued pork’s pretty good,” Dr. Nick said as they finally got their turn at the steam table that was loaded down with fried and fatty dishes. “The best of a bad lot. They tried some low-fat dishes, but everybody wanted their chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes with gravy.”