The Next Thing on My List (14 page)

So Kip was brought in to help break the news and, possibly, smooth the waters for the idea of adoption. ‘ Maybe your mom will be open to it,’  I’ d told Deedee. ‘ Since she wants you to go to college, too.’  One look at Maria talking to Kip-gesturing wildly with her hands as she continued her rant-made it clear things were going far from smoothly. No wonder Deedee jumped at my offer to help her tell her mom. The woman was terrifying. If my mom acted like that upon finding out I was pregnant, I’ d curl into a ball and cry.

I didn’ t understand a word of what was being said, but I could make a pretty good guess. I had a boyfriend once who watched soap operas on Telemundo-or, more accurately, watched the busty, sexy, scantily clad actresses on the soap operas on Telemundo. He’ d supply the dialogue in English over what they were saying in Spanish. Only he’ d say things like ‘ My breasts are so very large, they barely fit in this halter top’  and ‘ Here is the weapon used to murder Pedro-and while I hand it to you, I will rub my other hand slowly over my body and lick my lips provocatively.’

The show unraveling before me was no less dramatic, although lacking in sex appeal. Maria’ s lines were too numerous to dub, but they clearly centered on insisting that Deedee got herself into this predicament and now it was time to pay the price.

‘ But Mami!’  Deedee cried, although she only whimpered her lines-and let me tell you, she wasn’ t going to have much of a career in the Spanish soaps if she didn’ t kick it up a notch. I had to guess the rest of her lines since they were delivered in Spanish, but based on my earlier conversation with her, it would be along the lines of ‘ It was one mistake! I shouldn’ t have to pay for it forever! The baby shouldn’ t have to suffer! What kind of mother could I be at fourteen years old? I want to finish high school and go to college and be a writer or a doctor and maybe one day a mom-but someday, not now!’

Maria would then shoot her a stormy look. ‘ You should have thought of that before you slept with the dashing Carlos! Do you think I want to be raising another child at this point? I have a job I love! I am the finest blind cook in all of Los Angeles! And now I’ ll be responsible for a grandchild!’

‘ It doesn’ t have to be that way!’  Deedee would plead. ‘ We can find the baby a good home, where she’ ll be loved and cared for! Isn’ t that part of being a parent? Making the hard choices?’

‘ We are a proud people, Deedee, and don’ t you forget that! Family is everything to us! We cannot turn our backs on family even if it means throwing our own hopes and dreams forever out the window!’

‘ Oh, Mami! Please, I only want-’

‘ Ladies, ladies!’  Kip would interject, his voice deep and soulful. ‘ Stop fighting. Isn’ t there enough strife in the world?’

On the drive home, I learned from Kip that even with the language barrier, I wasn’ t that far off the mark-much to my disappointment.

‘ Don’ t be hard on Deedee for not sticking up for herself more,’  he said. ‘ For her, the idea of giving away her baby probably carries more shame than getting pregnant in the first place. What you and I might call the right choice she sees as selfish-even if she wants it, too. It’ s just how it is.’

‘ That’ s so frustrating.’

‘ Anyway, Maria’ s not ruling out adoption entirely& if the parents were relatives or people in the neighborhood that they knew. She agreed to talk to that woman at the Big Sister program to see if she could help her explore options. The burden of raising the child is going to fall largely to her, and she’ s not excited about it. She’ d love to find a loophole. Some way to give the baby a better life without giving away her grandchild.’

‘ But it’ s Deedee’ s life. It should be her decision.’

‘ Technically it is,’  Kip said. ‘ But would you ever want to go up against Maria Garcia Alvarez?’

I shuddered. ‘ Not without boxing gloves and body armor.’

‘ THE WORST PART,’  I said to my mom, tugging on what I hoped was a weed, ‘ is that she wants to do the sensible thing.’

‘ Poor girl. I’ m sure she’ s under so much pressure. Is she going to stay in school?’

‘ She doesn’ t know what she’ s going to do. I suspect she’ s still in shock.’

I’ d stopped at my parents on Sunday to help my mom with the gardening. They had a big party coming up-also the reason my dad needed that frozen shrimp. When I first arrived, I’ d handed him my offering of five bags. He’ d accepted them gratefully and then retreated to the living room to fall asleep in front of a golf tournament on TV.

My mom clipped the leaves off the rosebushes as she asked, ‘ Have you ever been pregnant?’  She said it so nonchalantly, it took me a second to grasp what she’ d said.

‘ Um& don’ t you think you might have noticed?’

‘ I’ m not so naive. You could have gotten an abortion.’

‘ Oh. Well, no,’  I answered. ‘ I’ ve never been pregnant.’

She nodded. ‘ Just curious.’

Now wasn’ t that a touching mother-daughter moment! I was glad she wasn’ t curious whether I’ d ever thought I was pregnant, because then I would have had to say, ‘ Sure, plenty of times.’

Not that I made a habit of having unprotected sex or anything. But even with being single 150 percent more often than with a boyfriend, there were still times when the condom broke. Or I forgot the diaphragm on a camping weekend and decided millions of Catholics couldn’ t be wrong about that rhythm method. Or my period was late for no reason at all, but it was late. The last time I peed on a stick, ‘ yes’  or ‘ no’  on the strip was the latest in technology. And it had been ‘ no,’  as always. Yet leading up to the moment when I knew for sure, I had the opportunity to wonder. What if? Sure, I’ ve always hoped to go about things in the traditional order, and mostly I felt relief. But there was a small part of me that would have been happy. Things would be uncertain: Would we get married? Would I be a single mom? But either way I’ d have a baby& somebody to whom I was the most special person in the world. And all I’ d had to do to put my life on an entirely new trajectory was lie back, spread my legs, and let it happen.

‘ Life is ironic, isn’ t it?’  my mom said, handing me a pile of leaves to stuff in a sack. ‘ Your brother and Charlotte have been trying for years to have a baby and can’ t. This girl has sex once, and poof! She’ s going to be a mother.’

I stopped with my leaf stuffing. That was it! ‘ I can’ t believe this didn’ t occur to me before!’  I exclaimed. ‘ They can adopt Deedee’ s baby! Oh, it’ s perfect. They’ re not strangers, which I know is impor-’

‘ Hate to burst your bubble,’  my mom broke in. ‘ But they’ re not interested. Believe me, I’ ve talked to them plenty about it. They want to have their own. In fact, Charlotte’ s doing those hormone shots right now.’

‘ Darn,’  I said, deflated.

‘ They’ re awful, too, those shots. They make you moody and put on weight. She’ s certainly going about it the hard way.’

‘ Especially that part where she has to have sex with Bob,’  I said, and gave an exaggerated shudder. And isn’ t that just like my brother? I thought. Putting his wife through so much misery so he could pass on his lineage.

‘ Sometimes,’  my mom said, setting down her clippers and using the back of a gloved hand to wipe her hair off her forehead, ‘ I have to wonder what God’ s up to.’

WEDNESDAY LATE AFTERNOON I was making a few last ditch calls to drum up interest in the gas giveaway scheduled for the next day. Phyllis called me from Bigwood’ s office. ‘ What would it mean to you if I said I could guarantee TV coverage for you tomorrow?’  she asked in her fifty-pack-a-day voice.

‘ I’ m not sure I follow,’  I said. ‘ You have media contacts?’

(And if so, I thought bitterly, could you not have coughed them up during the afternoon staff meeting? I’ d tried my best to beef up the ‘ maybes’  I’ d gotten from various news crews, but Lizbeth had simply given a tinkly laugh and said, ‘ When they say maybe, it means no. I suppose I’ ll stop by anyway, just in case.’ )

Phyllis cleared her throat. ‘ I can make things happen.’  Suddenly I understood how Woodward and Bernstein must have felt.

I tried not to get too excited, but TV cameras would be quite the coup. It would show Bigwood that I could pull together a successful promotion. And even though it was certain Lizbeth would hog any opportunity to be in front of the camera, I could at least wander by in the background to fulfill #9 on my list: Get on TV.

‘ That would be great,’  I said, wondering why Phyllis was being so mysterious about the whole thing. ‘ What do you need from me?’

‘ A favor. You’ re a writer, and I’ m not much with words. I need help with a letter.’

‘ Sure. I’ ll come up there right now and-’

‘ Not here.’

Ah. That kind of letter. Somebody was searching for a new job. ‘ How soon do you need it?’

‘ I was hoping you could stop by my house after work tonight. I’ m in Culver City-shouldn’ t be too far out of your way.’

‘ Deal.’

‘ You help me out,’  she added before hanging up, ‘ and I’ ll get you all the TV coverage you can stand.’

I REACHED PHYLLIS’ S house a few minutes before six o’ clock and parked on the street. Her car was already there-pulled into her driveway behind a Harley so massive that it more resembled a motor home than a motorcycle. Maybe those Hell’ s Angels rumors were true. I stopped to read the stickers on it to see if it’ d give me any hints, but they were mostly for seemingly ordinary riding clubs. No skulls and crossbones.

Phyllis came up behind me. ‘ Anything on that list of yours about riding a motorcycle?’  she asked.

I turned to give her a wave of greeting and then said, ‘ You know about the list?’

‘ Everybody knows about the list.’

I sighed. ‘ That’ s not on it.’

‘ You ride?’  I shook my head, and she said, ‘ Never?’  as if I’ d admitted I was the world’ s oldest living virgin. ‘ Wait here.’  She disappeared into the garage and came back a minute later with two helmets and a leather jacket, which she tossed to me. ‘ So you don’ t get road rash if we wipe out.’

Road rash? Oh no-I agreed to write, not ride. ‘ Thanks, but we need to get to the letter. I’ m in a bit of a hurry.’

‘ Hogwash,’  she said. ‘ But if you’ re that worried about time, we’ ll talk while we ride.’

Partly because of my newfound spirit of adventure, but more because I was afraid of Phyllis, I obediently straddled the seat behind her. It was like sitting in a La-Z-Boy; it even had a back bar and cushy armrests. The seat beneath me rumbled, and as Phyllis pulled out of her drive, I thought this was how it would feel to ride a speeding rhino, both thrilling and terrifying. When Phyllis yelled, ‘ How is it?’  that’ s what I told her.

‘ Most people say it’ s like an orgasm, but whatever floats your boat.’

‘ So what’ s the deal?’  I hollered over the growl of the engine when we stopped at a red light. ‘ You looking for a new job?’

‘ It’ s not about work. I want to write a letter to my daughter.’

‘ Your daughter?’

The light changed, and she roared forward again. We cruised past the movie studios located there and through old residential neighborhoods that were quaint by L.A. standards-brick-and-adobe houses and leafy trees. Over the course of the ride, Phyllis gave me the full story, letting the intimate details of her life scatter along the streets of the city like candy tossed at a parade. The story wasn’ t anything I hadn’ t seen a dozen times on the Lifetime Channel: Mom and live-in biker boyfriend have baby. They name baby Sunshine. If that alone isn’ t enough to piss her off for life, they proceed to drink too much and do far too many drugs and leave her with friends and relatives and foster care from the time she could barely toddle. Eventually Mom goes into rehab, and biker boyfriend goes God knows where, and the daughter, who by that time prefers to go by the name Sally, has put herself through college and has a nice job as an office manager and maybe a husband and kids, but we’ re not sure, wants to establish a relationship as much as she wants her toenail ripped off at the root, even though Mom has been clean and sober for ten years.

We pulled back into Phyllis’ s driveway. Life is funny, I thought as I hoisted my leg high and over the seat. People are living too much or too little, and I wondered if anyone out there is living the right amount.

‘ You’ re a good rider,’  she said.

‘ All it takes is sitting-I’ m good at that.’

‘ Not true. You’ ve got to lean when I lean. There’ s trust. And anticipation. You’ d be surprised how many people flip out when the bike takes a turn and they throw their body weight the other way.’

Changing the subject to the reason I’ d come over, I asked, ‘ So what do you want to tell Sally in this letter?’

Phyllis pulled off her helmet, and what she said next, she said quietly. ‘ That I know I was a shitty mother.’

‘ Okay.’

‘ And that I’ m sorry I hurt her.’

‘ Well then,’  I said, going to grab a pad of paper and a pen from my car, ‘ let’ s say it.’

Chapter 12

T he alarm woke me at five o’ clock, and as painful as it was, even that was going to be pushing it. I had to be at the gas station in Burbank in an hour. I needed to leap out of bed and jump straight in the shower. Unless I left the conditioner on for only one minute-that’ d buy me two more blissful minutes of slumber& .

I was out the door a little before six, which was later than I’ d hoped. Especially since I still needed to stop at the twenty-four-hour Vons for helium balloons, and-oh, the irony!-I needed gas.

The morning sky was brightening by the time I hit the freeway for Burbank, my Toyota so packed with balloons that if my life were a cartoon, the car would be floating away with me in it.

I scanned radio stations, excited about the day ahead. Martucci and Phyllis were handling the giveaway at the gas station near the airport. Martucci had plenty of experience running promotions, so they’ d be fine on their own. I’ d join Brie and Greg (who, even though he was the designer and didn’ t have a clue what he was doing, was the only other staff member I could get) at the Burbank station. If Phyllis hadn’ t been blowing hot air about her TV media connections, I’ d schmooze reporters while Lizbeth took interviews.