Becca (10 page)

Bert and his mother stood
back from the window so that Becca could not see that they had been watching
her. There was a pause and they knew she was pressing on the doorbell button,
but it did not work, so it took a few seconds more before she wrapped lightly
on the door.

Bert’s mother opened it
tastefully slow, even though in her anxiousness she wanted to snatch it open.

Becca’s face lit up with
a smile. “Hi, I’m Rebecca,” she said as Bert’s mother opened the screen door.

“I’m Carol Martin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Becca
offered her hand and Carol shook it. Becca stepped inside as Carol appraised
her.

“Bertram has told me a
lot about you,” Carol said.

“All lies,” Becca said,
looking at Bert. “I’m not as bad as he says. Really.”

Carol chuckled. “Can you
stay a bit?”

Bert started to speak
when Becca said, “Sure. We have nothing planned. We’re just hanging out.”

“Come on in and sit down.
Bert, get her some lemon aide. Do you like lemon aide?”

“I love it.” She smiled
sweetly at Bert and took a seat on the couch.

Carol took a seat on a
chair and studied Becca a moment. Becca took a few moments to look around the
room, and then settled on staring at the doorway in anticipation of Bert’s
return from the kitchen because she felt nervous under the scrutinizing eyes of
his mother.

“So, Rebecca, Bertram
says you’re in school?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m going to
go to Point Park. And please call me Becca.”

“And please call me Carol
for goodness sake. What are you studying?”

“I don’t have a major. I
getting my first two years out of the way and then decide.”

“Bert was a straight A
student in high school.”

“Oh, really? He never
told me that.”

“Yes. He…he did very well.
I want him to go to college but it’s so expensive.”

“Yes, it is.”

Bert returned with a tray
of lemon aide. He served the ladies, then took a seat on the couch next to
Becca, and immediately blushed when he saw how his mother regarded them. He
sipped his lemon aide and then set the glass down on the coffee table.

“Bert, why didn’t you
mention your grades in high school?” Carol asked.

“I just never got around
to it.”

Becca said, “I think he’s
very smart. We have wonderful conversations.”

“Really?”

“He’s quite the
conversationalist.”

“Is that so? He hardly
says a word around the house.”

“He probably uses them
all up with me,” Becca said, smiling sweetly.

Carol’s heart went out to
this dear, beautiful, girl who had green eyes, reddish-blonde hair and freckles.
What a wonderful couple they made. She saw that her son was nervous and decided
to help him out.

“Well, I know you two
want to go, so you don’t have to finish your lemon aide.”

Becca took another drink.
“It’s really good. Fresh?”

“Yes.”

Becca looked at Bert. “You
really
are
quiet at home, aren’t you?” He smiled and shrugged. “Honestly,
Carol,” Becca said, “he doesn’t shut up around me.”

Carol laughed. “Well
that’s a different Bertram than I know.”

Becca stood up and went
to the mantelpiece, and studied the photographs a moment. She turned back to
face Carol. “Matthew, Mark, and Luke?”

“Why yes!” Carol stood
up, glancing quickly at her son and smiling. “Those are my sons with my
husband, James. He was killed in Korea. That’s him in that picture there.”

“Oh my God, Carol, I’m so
sorry.”
She took Carol’s hand in hers and patted it. “That is just so
sad.”

Carol allowed the
condolences and pushed some hair out of Becca’s eyes. “Why…thank you, Becca.”

Becca studied the
pictures of the smiling men. “You’re very fortunate to have so many handsome
men in your life.”

“Yes. I am. Matthew lives
in Florida, and he’s married with two children, Mark lives in Buffalo and is
engaged, and Luke lives up in Erie—he works on one of those ore boats. His wife
is a teacher. Oh, but I’m rambling.”

“I don’t mind,” Becca
said. “Oh, I don’t mean that I think you’re rambling—I love hearing about your
sons.”

“You are a very kind
young lady,” Carol smiled.

Becca glanced over her
shoulder at Bert, who knew she was comparing him to the photos.

“They are Bertram’s
half-brothers,” Carol said, noticing Becca’s gaze. “Excuse me, I’ll be right
back.”

“Your mother is really
sweet, Josh,” Becca said. “And she’s a pretty lady.”

“Really?”

“You don’t think so?”

“She’s my mom.”

Becca chuckled and saw
Carol returning with a framed picture.

“This is Bertram’s father,”
Carol said.

Becca studied the picture
of the dark-skinned man with a wonderful smile. “Carol,” she said, “you sure
know how to pick them.”

Carol smiled and looked
lovingly at the picture. “Yes, he was very handsome.”

“Oh my
God,”
Becca
said, “don’t tell me you lost
two
husbands?”

Carol said softly, “Just
one husband.”

Becca blushed deeply. She
glanced at Josh, who sat on the couch watching them. Her heart went out to him.
“Oh, I see… It’s so
sad
that you lost two men in your life. But you have
handsome sons from them.”

Carol paused before
speaking. She loved this girl. A real charmer. “Yes,” she said, “I’m very
fortunate.”

“Mom,” Bert said, “you
don’t mind if we go now?”

“Not at all.” Carol
kissed her son. “Have fun, Bert.”

“I will.”

“Nice meeting you,
Carol,” Becca said, shaking her hand.

“Oh, my goodness,” Carol
said. “It was my pleasure, honey.”

As Bert stepped past his
mother, she leaned into him and whispered in his ear, “I really
like
her.”

Bert smiled and walked
out with Becca.

“I’m so sorry about your
father, Bert.”

“I don’t remember him. I
was an infant when he died.”

“You look like him.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. He was a
very handsome man.”

They got into the Mustang
and waved at Carol who stood on the porch and waved back. Becca started car,
pulled away from the curb and drove a few moments before speaking. “You look
like your mom, too. You have her mouth and her nose and her eyes,” Becca said
and tapped his nose with her index finger.

“So,” Bert said after a
minute or two, “where are we going?”

“Do you dance?”

“I don’t know.”

“How could you not know
if you dance or not?”

“I’ve never been to a
dance.”

“Oh, my God, Josh. What
have
you done?”

“Not much of anything,
really.”

“Oh that’s right, I
forgot. Well, we’re going to a dance tonight.”

“I thought we were just
going to hang out and do nothing. You’re dressed like we’re on a date or
something.”

“Well, Josh, I didn’t
wear this dress to do nothing. Let me educate you on women: when we go out,
even if we say we’re going to do
nothing
we have to dress like we’re
going to do
something.
Okay? So don’t think I’ve dressed up for you,
buckaroo. And anyway, look at you, you’re all dressed up and everything—do you
dress like this to do nothing?”

“My mother insisted.”

“I bet she did. You look
very nice, by the way. And how do I look?”

“Charming.”

“Oh my God, what kind of
answer is that? I have a mind to bring this evening to a quick end.”

“Please? I’m bored to
death.”

Becca offered him an
exaggerated look of scorn but said nothing.

Bert watched Becca unconsciously
rub her right thigh and saw what looked like a bruise. “Not that I’m staring at
your legs or anything, but how did you hurt your leg?”

“Yeah, right, you’ve
never
stared at my legs.”

“Seriously. What did you
do to your leg?”

“Nothing. It’s been hurting
for a while now, and that bruise came up a couple of days ago. I’ve got a
doctor’s appointment Monday.”

They drove on in silence
for a moment and found themselves crossing the Allegheny River going toward
Harmarville again.

“Looks like we’re heading
to the Eat ‘n’ Park,” Bert said.

“You don’t mind? It’s too
early to hit the dance floor.”

“I didn’t know dancing
was dependent on what time it was.”

“I don’t like being
unfashionably early. You know? It’s nice to have people look at you when you
walk in, rather than being the people doing the looking when others walk in.
Understand?”

“No. But I’ll take your
word for it.”

In the restaurant, they
gave their orders to the waitress. Becca started rubbing her leg. “Sorry,” she
said, “this thing is hurting again.”

“That thing is your leg.”

“No, this thing I
feel
in my leg.”

“You feel something in
your leg?”

“Yes.” She stopped
rubbing her leg and put her hands on the table as their order arrived.

“What do you feel in your
leg?”

“Nothing, forget it.”

“You’re not supposed to
feel
anything
in your leg. What does it feel like?”

“A lump or something. Look,
forget it, Josh. Let’s not talk about my leg.”

They sat in silence for a
few moments.

“Do you know,” Becca said
to break the silence, “that I look forward to talking to you?”

He nodded. “I feel the
same way.”

There was another
silence.

“Okay,” Bert said, “so if
we like to talk to each other, why aren’t we talking?”

“Yeah, crazy, isn’t it? It’s
like we’re strangers now. I feel almost nervous.”

“Almost nervous? What
does that feel like?”

“Like I feel
now,
Josh.”

“I’ve never felt
almost
nervous. I’ve managed to only feel all the
way
nervous.”

She chuckled. “You kill
me.”

“Okay,” Bert said, “unconfuse
me.”

“What? Uncon
fuse
you?
What’s that mean?”

“You told me you did and
did not have a boyfriend. I said I was confused. I still am. How do you have
and not have a boyfriend?”

She sat back. “Greg’s my
boyfriend because his father and mine want him to be my boyfriend, and
he
wants
to be my boyfriend.”

“That’s not helping.”

“You said it yourself,
Greg and I aren’t salt and pepper.”

“You guys don’t look like
a couple.”

“We’re not. I mean, we
are,
but not like a regular couple.”

“The difference being?”

She leaned forward. “I
can trust you, right, Josh?”

“Yes.”

“He’s not into me.”

“He’s not into you. Uh-huh.
Still no help, Becca.”

“He’s not into
any
girl.”

“You mean as in he
doesn’t like girls.”

“Uh-huh.”

“As in he would rather
hang around with the boys.”

“Yes.” She smiled.

“As in he’s
into
boys.”

“Bingo. To keep his
father from going berserk, we have to stay together. The thing is, Josh, I
really
like
him. He’s sweet, gentle and, well, he’s very nice to me. How
do you think I felt when I finally figured it out? Anyway, he wants us to keep
up the image until he transfers colleges. He wants to go to school out west. UCLA.
So, I said to him we could stay together as long as I could see someone else.”

Bert paused as he raised
his Coke to drink. He stared at her over the rim of his glass. She was simply
sitting there, looking down at her coffee, her finger looped through the handle
and turning the cup back and forth on the saucer. “He agreed?” When she nodded,
he set his glass down. “Okay, so that explains why he is and is not your
boyfriend. But why would you want to see somebody else if he’s so nice to you? I
mean, why bother?”

“Because I want to have a
real relationship.”

“It’s going to be tough.”

“What is?”

“Finding somebody.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you’re so damn
ugly.”

“Right. And you’re a
goddamned hunk yourself.”