Truth or Dare (13 page)

     “Honestly, Deirdre.  They want your baby, not you.”  Her mother watched as they disappeared down the street.  “I’m not so sure I want my grandchild being raised by those tedious people.”  And she slammed the front door.

     The police hadn't wanted to release Mary to Mike Ruffelo's custody, but after trying for over an hour to get either of her parents, they had given up and let Mike take her home in a taxi.

     The house was empty when Mary walked in the back door.  A whole chicken sat out on the counter in the kitchen—raw, with its legs splayed grotesquely.  There were several gashes in it as if someone had tried to cut it up and had failed.  A pot of water on the stove with green beans floating in it—they hadn't been trimmed or anything, just dumped in any old way.

     It was nothing unusual.  Mary's mother would try her best to make dinner, and would struggle with the ingredients, but in the end her father would order take-out or they'd heat up a frozen pizza.

     Mary climbed the stairs to her room, too stunned to cry, although she could feel the pressure of tears building up behind her eyes.  When she got up this morning, she had no idea that by evening her life would be over.  She was on her way to becoming a convicted shoplifter.  She'd never get to college now.  Who would want to give her a scholarship?

      She didn't know what she would have done if Deirdre hadn't called her father.  He'd told her not to worry—that he'd plead extenuating circumstances when they got to court and all she'd likely get would be community service. 

     He had saved her life. 

     Even if he did keep trying to touch her in ways that made

her slightly uncomfortable.

     Later that week there was a small story in the local paper about a girl being arrested for shoplifting at Eric's Electronics.  It didn't mention any names, but Rivka cut it out with a pair of manicure scissors anyway.  Pamela told her all about it.  She didn't want her mother reading it and giving that annoying little shriek of hers and then spending hours wondering, out loud, who on earth could do something like that.  It wasn't like Mary was a criminal or anything.  Mary shouldn't have taken the iPod—Rivka knew that.  But somehow she couldn't really blame her.

     Rivka was packing her bag when her mother knocked on the door.  This was it—the day she was leaving for the beach with Pamela, Mary and Deirdre.  She was so excited she hadn't been able to eat more than half her sandwich at lunch.

     Rivka stood in the doorway so her mother couldn't come into her room.  Maybe she would get the hint and go away.

     But no. 

     "Are you getting excited, bubeleh?"  Her mother looked as if she had nothing else in the world to do except annoy Rivka.

     Rivka shrugged.  "Sure."

     "You're going to have so much fun."  Her mother slipped past her and into the room.  She started poking around in Rivka's closet.  "Be sure to take a sweater.  It's still getting cold at night."

     Last night it had been humid and sticky and hadn't gone much below seventy degrees, but Rivka didn't say anything. 

     "If you don't need any help, I'll meet you downstairs."  Her mother looked at her watch.  "Tate said we should leave at five-thirty."

     They were only going the ten miles to the synagogue, Rivka thought, and the bus didn't leave till 6:30.  What on earth where they going to do all that time?

     Everything was arranged with Pamela.  She'd be there in her powder blue Saab convertible, keeping out of the way so that Rivka's parents wouldn’t see her.  If all went well, and there wasn't too much traffic, they'd be on Long Beach Island by

8:30 p.m..  Rivka felt a twinge of guilt about lying to her parents, but she shrugged it off.  They’d lied to her, too, so what was the big deal?

     Her mother finally turned to go, and Rivka breathed a sigh of relief, but her mother stopped at the threshold, one hand on the doorknob. She turned around.  “Is everything okay, bubeleh?  You haven’t been yourself these past few weeks.  Tate noticed it, too.”

     Rivka shrugged.  “Oh, you know, the usual.  School work and final exams and all that.”  She couldn’t quite meet her mother’s eye.

     Her mother shook her head.  Her expression was serious.  “I don’t think so, Rivka.  I think your Tate and I know you better than that.  It’s more than school work.  Has something happened?  Is there something you’re afraid to tell us?”

     Rivka shook her head firmly.  “No, it’s nothing like that.  Don’t worry about it.” 

     “But I do worry.  Tate and I love you.  We’re your parents.  We don’t want to see you upset.”

     Rivka thought about what she had discovered that night in the file on her father’s desk.  She felt tears pressing against her lids.  Her whole life had been a lie!  Her Mame and her Tate…and everything.  She couldn’t help it—a tear escaped and slid down her cheek and into the corner of her mouth where she could taste the salty wetness.

     Her mother crossed the room in one step.  She put her arms around Rivka.  “What is it, bubeleh.  You can tell me.”  She stroked Rivka’s hair back from her forehead the way she used to when she was little, and Rivka melted against her chest.

     Rivka's shoulders convulsed and her throat tightened.  She couldn’t hold back the tears—they streamed down her face and soaked into the collar of her shirt.

     Her mother held her and made comforting little noises.  “There, there,” she patted Rivka’s head.

     “I know about Aunt Ruth,” Rivka sniffled when she was finally able to talk.  “The papers were out on Tate’s desk, and I…I read them.  I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it.”

     “What papers?  What are you talking about?”

     “The ones in the file with Aunt Ruth’s name on them.”  Rivka hiccoughed loudly.  “The adoption papers.” 

     Her mother gave a little cry and put a hand to her mouth.

Rivka squirmed around so she could look up at her mother.  “I’m really Aunt Ruth’s daughter, aren’t I?”

     Things don't always go according to plan.

     Rivka’s was the second car to arrive in the Elmwood Synagogue Parking lot.  The place was deserted except for a white Toyota Camry parked at an angle across several spaces.  The bus wasn't even there yet. 

     Rivka's father started to pull into one space, then changed his mind and started maneuvering into another.  Rivka hoped they wouldn't have to try them all before picking one, or they'd be there forever.  Finally parked, her father opened the windows and turned off the engine.  Of course, it was hot and humid and the sun was at the perfect angle for its rays to pierce the front window and fry everyone in the car. Rivka fanned herself with one of the magazines she'd told her mother she’d brought to read on the bus.

     The only other car in the parking lot belonged to the Goldsteins.  David Goldstein took calculus with Rivka and was always hanging around afterwards to see if he could walk her to her next class.  She watched in horror as he climbed out of the family car and started walking toward them.  Since her father had turned the car off, she couldn't even zap her window up.

     "Hey," Dave leaned on the car nonchalantly, grinning furiously.  "Ouch."  He pulled away suddenly.  The car had been out in the sun all day and was burning hot.

     "Hi."  Rivka didn't smile or put any enthusiasm into her voice for fear of encouraging him.  Her mother was grinning in that way she had—as if she expected them to announce their engagement any day.  She poked Rivka's father who looked up, surprised, from entering something in the car's maintenance log.

     Just then, the bus pulled into the parking lot belching black exhaust.  David's parents waved frantically at him, and, to Rivka's relief, he headed back toward his family’s car. 

     Ten long minutes went by before the doors of the bus hissed open, and the driver came out.  He had a cigarette and lighter at the ready and went to light up in the shade of a nearby tree.  More people had arrived, and a couple of kids waved good-bye to their parents and straggled aboard the bus.

     "I guess I should go."  Rivka began to collect her things.

     Her father looked at his watch.  "There's time yet.  No hurry.  We don’t mind waiting."

     The minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness. Rivka sat clutching the handles of her purse wishing she had the nerve to bolt out the door.  Pamela had arrived shortly after the bus—Rivka had noticed her pulling into the parking lot and disappearing around the other side of the building.  She was half afraid that Pamela would get bored waiting and would leave without her.

     Finally her father looked at his watch again.  “I guess you’d better get going.  You don’t want to be left behind.”  He chuckled, and her mother joined it. 

     They were a regular comedy team, Rivka thought as she yanked her duffle bag off the back seat. 

     She kissed her parents, gave them a hug and headed across the parking lot toward the bus.  She stood beside the door to the bus and turned and waved in an exaggerated way, but her parents just sat there.  Her father hadn’t even started the car yet. 

     Rivka put one foot on the first step and turned back to see what her parents were doing.  Her father had finally started the car, but they weren’t moving.  Her mother was leaning out the window, still waving.

     Why weren’t they leaving?  Were they going to sit there and wait until the bus pulled out of the parking lot?  The thought made her feel queasy. 

     She had no choice but to get on the bus.  Fortunately, no one ever wanted to sit up front near the driver so Rivka was able to perch on the aisle seat with her duffle bag on her lap.  She chewed nervously on a hangnail and stared at the "no smoking" sign as she waited.  She had to fight the urge to leap off the bus and run around to the back of the building where Pamela and Mary and Deirdre were waiting.  With her luck, her parents would see her, and her mother would come flying out of the car to ask her what was wrong. 

     She was watching out the window, still waiting for her parents to pull out of the parking lot, when the doors to the bus whisked closed, and the driver started the engine.

Chapter 14

“What the…”

     “What on earth is she doing?”  Mary was riding shotgun with Deirdre behind her and Pamela at the wheel.  They had the top down and the air conditioner going full blast.

     “Follow them.”  Mary pointed at the bus as it pulled out of the parking lot.

     “Maybe she's changed her mind?"

     Pamela put the car in gear and shot out of the synagogue parking lot, flooring the gas until she was right behind the bus.  Deirdre started to cough as the exhaust engulfed the convertible.

     What on earth was Rivka playing at?  Pamela was sure she'd planned to come with them.  That was the whole point of this ridiculous weekend.  If Rivka didn’t come, it would be a waste.  She was going to make an example of Rivka so that no one ever, ever crossed her again.  She thought of Rivka and Lance, together, trading secrets, and her hands clenched tighter on the wheel.  Who knew what Rivka might do if she weren't stopped?

     Suddenly the bus driver switched on his right blinker and pulled over to the curb.  Pamela cut the wheel and pulled in right in back of it. 

     "What are you doing?"  Deirdre clutched at the seat in front of her, and Mary gave Pamela a dirty look.

     "The bus is stopping," Pamela snapped.  "Maybe Becky's getting off."

     The doors to the bus swished open, then closed again, and the bus pulled back into the flow of traffic. Rivka stood forlornly at the side of the road, her duffle bag at her feet.

     “Oh, my God, I can’t believe you did that,” Pamela squealed as Rivka tossed her bag into the back seat and got in after it.

     “What else could I do?  My stupid parents just sat there, insisting on waiting for the bus to leave.  I had to get on, or they would have figured everything out."

     “It's going to be okay.”  Deirdre patted Rivka’s hand.

     “And we’re going to have a total blast.”  Pamela stepped on the gas, and the blue convertible shot forward.

     Rivka noticed the air change the further south they went on the Garden State Parkway. The wind teased her hair into curls and ringlets, and she could feel the dampness on her bare skin.  Traffic thinned, and lights got farther and farther apart.  

     Rivka thought about what her mother had told her last night.  Feelings of power and elation stirred in her as quickly as the air rushing past the open top of Pamela's convertible.  The knowledge was astounding.  Unbelievable.  It gave her power.

     And it totally changed everything.

     Rivka was almost asleep by the time they got to the bridge leading to Long Beach Island.  The breeze had picked up and had churned the bay into white capped waves.  Rivka leaned out to look at the foaming water then drew back quickly.  The water looked dark and deep with oily shadows, and it scared her.

     They sped up Long Beach Island Avenue where houses blazed with lights, and music blared from open windows. People clustered on patios, balconies and on decks, drinks in hand.  Long Beach Island was one big party.  Rivka couldn't wait to join in.