Cheap Diamonds

by Norris Church Mailer

  “Cassie…I’m sorry. You don’t know how much. I came over here to see if I couldn’t somehow…do something to make it up.”

  “How can you do that, Lale? Can you turn back time and stay with me? What would you have done if we’d gotten married and Lalea had been born just like she was? Would you have taken your turn sleeping at the hospital, looking at her every day, sick with worry, knowing she was going to die? Or would you have taken off then? If she’d lived, would you have gone back to work with your daddy raising watermelons? Would you have stayed with us and been happy driving a tractor and eating out once in a while at the diner? How long would you have stayed in Buchanan, Lale? Can you answer me that, truthfully, for one time?”

  “No. You’re right. I probably would have left, no matter what. I couldn’t ever be happy there. I know it. And you wouldn’t have been happy with me, either.”

  “That’s the first honest thing you’ve ever said to me, and you know what? You’re right. I wouldn’t. You did me a favor. You taught me a valuable lesson, Lale Hardcastle. It was an expensive one, but one well learned. So I ought to thank you.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  He handed her the pictures. “Can I keep one?”

  She hesitated, then handed one back.

  “I guess so. She was half yours.” The air was thick with all that was unsaid.

  “Thank you.” He put the picture into his shirt pocket, then stood up. “Why don’t we get out of here for a little bit?”

  “Why not? Want to take a little ride in the T-bird? You haven’t seen it in a while. You’ll find it’s cleaner than it used to be.” Cassie put on her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder.

  When they got to the T-bird, she handed him the keys. “Want to drive?”

  “Sure. I’ll take you to a place like you’ve never seen before. It’s one of the most beautiful places in the city. I go there a lot, sometimes just to wonder at being here and to think.”

  He headed all the way down Seventh Avenue, turned left on Chambers Street, miraculously found a spot, and parked the car.

  “I’m glad you have the car. I don’t need one in the city. Taking the subway is a lot faster, and you don’t have the hassle of always trying to find a place to park. We’ll walk from here.”

  They started over the Brooklyn Bridge walkway. It was a sunny day, but cold, and there weren’t too many pedestrians. They walked to the exact center of the bridge, stopped, and looked south, toward the Statue of Liberty, her arm holding high the torch of freedom. Red tugboats churned up white wakes as they plowed the river, small boats zipped in and out; ferryboats lumbered from the Bowery to Staten Island; big barges eased into the piers at the foot of Brooklyn Heights, unloading their cargos from faraway places, with names, she imagined, like Marrakech and Zanzibar. Cassie took a deep, cold breath.

  “It’s a picture postcard, come to life.”

  “I thought you’d like it. There’s no other view like it anywhere.”

  They leaned on the railing, looking out at the sparkling water, the sound of traffic humming under their feet.

  “I can see why you’d want to be here, instead of Buchanan. It’s a whole different world.”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “You’re not ever going back, are you?”

  “No. I might visit Mama and them. But I’ll never live there again. What are you going to do? I mean, are you going to stay here and try to be a model? It seems like you got a break awful easy. But then, I guess, so did I. It happens like that, sometimes. You either hit right away, or you never do.”

  “No. I don’t want to be a model. I couldn’t anyway. Dick said I’m too ‘special’ for the magazines. I think he meant my nose. This was just a one-time deal, for an article about plastic surgery and choices. You’ll see it when it comes out. He said if I wanted to, though, I could probably work on Seventh Avenue, as a fitting model for the designers. They don’t care, really, what you look like if you fit the clothes.”

  “Are you going to try? I mean, if you’re going to stay, I could probably help you, you know, somehow. Cherry would help you, too. She’s always been on your side—I just want you to know that.”

  “Yeah. I know. I’m not mad at her. It’s hard to keep a foot in two places. It must be exciting, living in this world.”

  She looked at him then, her eyes as blue as the water.

  “If I stayed, would you want to see me? Even sometimes?”

  He hesitated. That hesitation was all she needed.

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’m not going to stay. This place is beautiful, but it’s not for me. I can’t see myself standing all day like a glorified dummy, letting somebody pin clothes on me so some other, prettier girl can wear them. I need to get back to the diner, back to the real world. Bernadette needs me, and so does Mama. In fact, I think I’m going to check out of the Chelsea and leave right now. I can find my own way back. Tell Cherry I understand. And I wish her luck. Take it easy.”

  And she was gone, long honey hair blowing in the wind. Lale stood and looked after her until she was out of sight, until the cold made him move.

  53

  * * *

  THE DUNGEON

  “Mrs. Digby? Can I come in for a minute?” It was late at night. I’d been trying to get my courage up to go and talk to her all evening, but kept putting it off. Aurelius was out doing a gig at a place called the Loft in SoHo, and wouldn’t be back for hours. I told him I had to get up early for work, so he didn’t expect to see me. It was now or never.

  “Hello, dear. I’ve been expecting you. I made some chocolate chips. Pecans on top, just like you like. Thank you so much for introducing me to pecans. It’s not something I’d ever have thought to do, but they really do make the cookies so much better. That added little nutty crunch. Would you like tea? A little milk and sugar?”

  “Yes, thank you. Why were you expecting me?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Just a little feeling I got. I get them from time to time. I’m a little psychic, you know. Now. Here’s your tea. What can I do for you?”

  “Well. I don’t really know what to say. I mean, Lana told me…I mean…” I started to cry. “I’m, um, I guess I’m what you would call ‘in trouble.’ And I don’t know what to do.”

  “I see. Does Aurelius know?”

  “No. I don’t want him to know.”

  “But don’t you think he deserves to know? I mean, it is partly his child, too.”

  “Yes, he deserves to know, but he doesn’t want to marry me, and I don’t want to marry him, and oh, Mrs. Digby, I’m so miserable. I’m going to hell, I know it, but I just can’t get married and have this baby now. I can’t. I’m just not ready. I’m so stupid.”

  “I understand, dear. Believe me, I understand. It’s happened to many a girl before you, and you won’t be the last one. It happened to me, on more than one occasion. I was lucky. I had a wonderful woman who knew what to do, and I didn’t suffer so much, although after the last one I was never able to conceive again. I’m not quite sure why. Scarring, most likely. I felt like it was my just deserts. I wouldn’t have made a very good mother anyhow. You have to know that there are sometimes complications, such as infertility. It’s something you should not take lightly. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “No. I’m not sure at all. But I’m sure I don’t want to quit this career I have here. I feel like my life is just starting. It’s selfish, I know, but I can’t help it.”

  “We are all selfish in some ways, my dear. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. It just means we have to look out for ourselves. And you are on the verge of becoming a big model. I can promise you that. You have a wonderful life ahead of you.”

  “I do? You can see that?”

  “I can see that. Although sometimes what I see can change, it’s pretty reliable.”

  “That makes me feel a little better. If I were to…do it, what…I mean, how…what do you do?”

&
nbsp; “Well, I think it’s best I don’t go into all the details, but it won’t take long, and there will be a bit of discomfort involved. But that’s good. Pain is good. Pain washes away the sin, don’t you think? Sort of a penance. And the pain won’t last forever. The wonderful thing about our bodies is that we remember we had pain after it’s over, but we can’t for the life of us recall what it felt like. You’re a young healthy girl. You should be fine. How far along are you?”

  “About a month. A little less, maybe.”

  “That’s good. You don’t want to go too long. I personally won’t do it after two and a half months. By then, it looks too much like a baby. Now it’s just a mass of little cells. Not a baby at all. Do you want some time to think about it? We can go downstairs now if you want, and I can examine you.”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do it now and get it over with.”

  We took the basement stairs, by way of a door I had never seen in Mrs. Digby’s apartment. The steps were wooden, old and creaky, and ended in a little stone hallway that was so low I had to duck my head. She, of course, had no such problem. It was lit by a bare bulb and was a little claustrophobic, but then what was I expecting? We came to a door with a round brick top, and she took out a key and opened it, flipped a switch, and a light came on in a little room that was clean but grim, a twin-size bed in the middle, a sink, and a cabinet. The ceiling was brick, and the bed was the old-fashioned iron kind with bars for a headboard. The paint was worn in the places I imagined a girl’s hands would grip. The brick walls were thick. No sounds would come out of this room, no matter how loud.

  “Lie down, my dear. Let me take a look. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s just us girls here.”

  I lay down and awkwardly lifted my dress above my chest. My belly was still flat, but my breasts were a little bigger. The nipples were a bright pink and looked more than ever like giant jellybeans on little white mounds of flesh that were just beginning to swell. She had a lamp with a strong light, and a little stool that she rolled to the end of the bed.

  “Scoot right down to the edge, my dear. That’s a good girl. This won’t hurt. I’m just looking.”

  She stuck that metal thing inside me that was always freezing cold, to open me up. I started to tremble a little.

  “Yes, you are most certainly pregnant, dearie. And I think you are right, not quite a month. This will be no problem.”

  I was shaking pretty good now, and my breathing was coming hard. I was so scared. The room was too small and there were no windows. It was what a room in hell might be like, staying forever in a tiny brick room with no air and no sunshine. A room like the one in the back of my head where I had shoved all the things I would think about later, all the bad things I had done since I came to New York. They were all crowding around me in the iron bed in that little brick room. Mrs. Digby had taken out some kind of instruments I didn’t want to look at too closely. She got up and washed her hands at the sink for a long time, then dried them and sat down again.

  “I can’t tell you how important cleanliness is. Do you realize that in the last century, more women died of childbed fever in hospitals than they did at home? That’s because the stupid men doctors would go down to do autopsies and who knows what all, and then come up and deliver babies without washing their hands. Can you imagine? They thought, I suppose, well, my hands are already a mess, might as well just get them good and messy before I take all that time to wash. My goodness, common sense should have told them that was a mistake. Still, that’s why a lot of girls today get into the messes they do—people just don’t take the time to properly wash. I was taught well, I can promise you. The woman who taught me did all the girls for Ziegfeld. She was the best. Now this is going to pinch, just a little.”

  By this time, I was really shaking. I felt something cold go inside, and a pain like a hot poker went right through the middle of my stomach. I screamed—I couldn’t help it.

  “Stop! Stop, Mrs. Digby. Is it too late? Did you do it yet? Please stop. I don’t want to do this. I can’t.”

  She stopped, withdrew the instrument.

  “I’m not done, dearie. Are you sure you want me to stop? You’ll still have the baby, you know.”

  “I don’t care. I can’t do it. I’ll just have to figure out something else.”

  She wiped me clean, and I sat up on the side of the bed, shaking. It was wrong. It was so wrong to be here, doing this. I hadn’t seen the little blue fairy since that one night. It might be in there. No matter what happened, I was going to have to face the consequences of what I had done, and if it was meant for me to have this baby, so be it. I would find a way. I’d do something. I could take a leave of absence and get somebody to take care of it while I worked. I’d get my figure back. Other models did it. Cassie had gone through with it. I couldn’t face Cassie if I killed this baby. I heard myself telling Cassie, the night she drove her car onto the railroad track, “Killing a baby is the worst sin you can commit. It’s an innocent little thing and it doesn’t have any say in it. Let the baby live!” I couldn’t kill the baby. I couldn’t.

  “Are you all right, dear?”

  “Did you hurt the baby?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I barely touched you. Let me look.”

  I lay back down and she took another look.

  “No, you’re fine. If you’re sure this is what you want, then just go upstairs and take a couple of aspirin. You’ll be okay in the morning. If I can help you, or if you change your mind, just call. I’m right here.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. D. You’ve been great. How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. You don’t owe me a thing. Just take care of yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I went back upstairs and collapsed on the bed, crying. I needed to call someone, but who? I couldn’t call my mother. She would be so disappointed in me. I couldn’t call Baby. She didn’t have a phone. I couldn’t tell Aurelius, not yet. Or Sal. Or Lale, God forbid. Lana would think I’d lost my mind. But I needed to talk to somebody.

  I went downstairs to the pay phone on the corner by Joe Jr’s. The night was cold but clear. There were cars on the street, but not too many. I dialed a number. It rang several times, and a familiar voice answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

  “Who is this? Cherry? Is that you?”

  “Hi, Father Leo. How’s the sin business?”

  “Good Lord, what are you doing calling me in the middle of the night? Are you all right?”

  “Not really.” I started to cry. I told him everything, what I had almost done, and how miserable I was. About Aurelius and Mrs. Digby, the whole thing. He listened, and let out a big sigh.

  “Oh, Cherry, my darling. You poor lamb.”

  “Am I going to hell, Father Leo? What am I going to do?”

  “Maybe there’s not any hell. I think we make our own hells, right here. One thing I do know, is that the God I serve is a God of love, and He loves you. He loves you and that baby, and no matter what happens, He will take care of you. He would never send you to hell for making a mistake. We all make mistakes, every single one of us. That I know. I thought I was on my way to hell, too, and who knows? Maybe I still am.”

  “I hate to tell you, but I know all about it. Baby’s my best friend—you know that.”

  “Of course I do. I knew she’d tell you. She had to tell somebody. It’s not the kind of thing you can keep a secret. Is she still angry at me?”

  “No. I don’t think so. I think she understands. I understand. You had to do what you had to do. I mean, I think the whole celibacy thing is nutty, but like you said, if you want to play on the team you have to play by the rules. She’ll get over it.”

  “I’m sure she will. She’s still a kid. But will I? I do love her, you know. Quite a lot.”

  “She knows you do. And you’ll get over it. If you don’t, then you’ll just have to rethink things. There’s nothing that says you have to stay
there forever.”

  “No, I think I will. It’s too late for me. I thought I could break out, but those ties are strong. As strong as a marriage vow. But you—what will you do?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll play it by ear. If I can call you up once in a while, that would be great. Is that okay?”

  “You call me anytime. I’m here. It’s my job.”

  54

  * * *

  THE RIVIERA

  Aurelius took me out for dinner at a restaurant in the Village called the Riviera Café. It was on Seventh Avenue, not too far from our house. The night was warm for January, and if you could see them, which you couldn’t very well because of all the lights of the city, there were stars in the sky. We strolled along, arm in arm, not saying anything. I was going over in my mind how I was going to tell him about the baby. Nothing seemed right.

  “You’re awful quiet tonight, baby. Is anything the matter?”

  “I’m just not feeling too well, sweetie. I’m okay. I had a long day of work today. Catalog. It’s the hardest thing, changing wigs every shot, I don’t even know how many changes of clothes. They get all they can get out of you.”

  “Well, we’ll have a nice glass of wine and a good dinner and you’ll feel better.”

  We sat down and had our wine, and I looked at the menu, but nothing appealed to me. I felt sort of sick at my stomach. I finally ordered the swordfish, which was unusual for me, since I’d never eaten it, but nothing else looked good, either.

  “I’ve been waiting to tell you,” he said when we’d gotten our food, “I have some good news for you. I’ve been offered a part in a play.”

  “Really? That’s great. What play?”

  “A Raisin in the Sun. They’re taking a cast on a tour across the country. It’s the Sidney Poitier role, baby. It’s a real role, not some hood or lackey. It’s walking in the steps of ol’ Sidney himself!”

  “Wow! That’s so great, sweetheart! But that means you’ll be gone a long time, won’t you?”