Truth or Dare (17 page)

     But Rivka
knew,
and that made Pamela felt sick all over again.  She was going to have to put Rivka in her place.  No, she was going to have to
destroy
her, or she'd never be safe again.

     Pamela licked her lips and looked around the room slowly.  She knew they all thought she was a bitch.  And sometimes she was.  Tough shit.  They didn’t have to hang out with her.  No one was forcing them.  They were all a bunch of losers. 

     "Truth or dare?"

“Truth or dare?”  Pamela said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Mary looked at her watch.  “It’s almost 2:00 a.m.  I'm going to bed.”

“A few more.”  Pamela poured another martini into her glass.  It sloshed onto the glass coffee table, and she rubbed at it with her sleeve.

Rivka curled in a corner of the sofa with a blanket over her legs.  She’d finished the first drink Pamela had given her but had barely touched the second.

Mary slouched at the other end of the sofa with her head back against the pillows and her legs stretched out on the coffee table.  Deirdre was in the black leather Eames chair.  Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, and she was breathing deeply.

Pamela got up unsteadily, swinging her glass in an arc and spattering Rivka and Mary with drops of her drink.  She knelt beside Deirdre and shook her. 

“Wake up, Deirdre.  We’re not finished yet.”   She plonked into a sitting position beside Deirdre’s chair, holding her drink aloft so it wouldn’t spill.

Deirdre wrinkled her nose.  “You’re drunk, Pamela.  And it’s time for bed.”  Deirdre rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

“No.”  Pamela slammed her hand down on the coffee table.  “Just a few more.  They’re good ones I promise you.  Ones I’ve been waiting months for.”

“Well, let’s get on with it, then.”  Mary swung her legs off the table and examined the deep creases the edge had put in her calves. 

“Okay.  Here goes.  Are you listening, Deirdre?”

“Is it my turn?”  Deirdre put a hand to her mouth and yawned.

“No.  It’s Mary’s.”

Mary groaned.  “Truth then.  I’m too tired to dare anything at this hour.”  She looked at her watch again.

“Here it is.  I think Deirdre needs to know what you’ve been up to."  Pamela slurped a long swallow of her drink, and some of it dribbled down her chin.  “Did you, Mary,” she pointed an unsteady finger in Mary’s direction, “have dinner with Deirdre’s father tonight?”

For one horrible second, Mary thought Pamela knew about her and Mike.  But that was impossible.  Pamela was feeling around the way she always did. 

“So what?”  Mary blustered.  “He’s my lawyer.  He needed to talk to me.”

“How dare you?”  Deirdre sprang from her seat and launched herself at Mary.  Mary’s drink tipped over and liquid dripped over the edge of the coffee table onto the carpet.

“Deirdre, stop it.”  Mary held her hands in front of her face.  Deirdre slapped at them furiously.

“Get her off me.”  Mary buried her face in the pillows.

 Pamela sat and rocked back and forth, laughing.

Finally, Deirdre ran out of steam.  She slipped off the sofa and sat with her back against it, her head in her hands.

“He never has any time for me, but he takes you out to dinner.”  She sniffed.  “How could you?”

Mary stroked Deirdre’s hair gently.  “Come on, Deirdre.  Let's go to bed.”  She started to get up.

 “Don’t go.”  Pamela put out a hand.  “The best is yet to come.  It’s Rivka’s turn.”

“Me?” 

“This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for.  Truth or dare?”

Everyone turned to look at Rivka.

“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to.”  Mary got to her feet. 

"Yes, she does."

“That’s enough, Pamela.  This isn’t fun anymore.”

Pamela was right, Rivka thought.  She didn’t have to play.  Pamela had no holds over her anymore.  She actually knew something about Pamela that would destroy her.  But still, her heart started to beat faster, and her mouth went dry.  Pamela was out of control.  Maybe it would be best to play along this one last time, and then they could all go to bed.

“Okay.”  Pamela drained the last of her drink.  “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”  Rivka yawned and tried to feign boredom.  One more pass at this stupid game, then tomorrow she would go home, and she’d never have to see Pamela again.

“Good.”  Pamela giggled.  The other girls looked from one to the other nervously.  “I dare you to go--“ she hiccoughed.  “I dare you to go skinny dipping in the ocean.  Now.  Out there.”  She waved a hand toward the black window.

“But it’s dark...”  Rivka protested.

“Then no one will see you.”

“I don’t—“

“Come on.  You chose dare.  Didn’t she, girls?”  Pamela swung her arm around their small circle.  “What’s the big deal?  You take your clothes off, get your feet wet, and then it’s all over.  Otherwise...” she stared intently at Rivka.  “You’ll never see Lance again.  I’ll tell him...I’ll tell him you slept with someone else.”

“No.”  Rivka jumped to her feet.

“I know you’re crazy about him.  You’ll do anything for him.  I’ll tell him you slept with Deirdre’s father.  He’d be disgusted, and you’d never see him again.”

“He wouldn’t believe you.”  Rivka cried. 

“Are you sure?”  Pamela’s eyes glinted.  “I’ll tell him I saw you myself.  Then he’ll believe me.”

Rivka had no doubt that Pamela would do it.  Would Lance believe her?  Maybe not, but she wasn’t taking any chances.  She started to kick off her shoes.

“All right.”  She pulled her top over her head and threw it on the sofa. “I’ll do it.” 

“I’ll tell him--” Pamela began.

“Shut up Pamela, okay? Just shut the fuck up.”  Rivka unzipped her pants and slid them down her legs.  She stepped out of them and began to unhook her bra.  “Open the door.”  She gestured toward the door that led to the patio.  She slipped off her panties, went over to the door, yanked it open and stepped outside.

“Are you coming?”  She stood on the doorstep.  Her heart was beating so hard it hurt.  She’d show Pamela.  She wasn’t scared.  She’d dip her feet in, and the last laugh would be on Pamela.

The sky was black with dark clouds scudding across it.  Rivka could feel goose bumps sprouting along her arms and legs as she walked across the cold sand.    She wrapped her arms around herself and looked back.  Mary, Deirdre and Pamela were behind her, shivering in the damp air.

The sea grass growing along the stairs to the beach swayed sinisterly in the darkness.  Rivka hesitated at the top of the steps.  The ocean looked endless—black and glassy and churning with white foam.  She was tempted to beg off and turn back.  All the effects of Pamela’s martini had suddenly worn off, and she was totally sober.

She glanced behind her. Pamela had her cell phone in her hand.  "I'll call Lance," she shouted toward Rivka.  The wind snatched the words and swirled them around so that Rivka could barely hear. 

"What?"  She shouted back.

"You heard me."  Pamela descended the stairs slowly.  "I'll call Lance if you don't."  She brandished her cell phone.

Rivka looked back at the water, and felt her way down the last few steps.

She took a deep breath and ran across the planked wooden walkway that wound through the dunes and then across the cold, damp sand toward the thin white line of foaming water she could see in the distance.

“Rivka, no.  Wait.”  Mary called, racing to catch up.  She grabbed for Rivka's hair but the wind snatched it and sent it streaming.  "You can't swim," Mary yelled above the roar of the waves breaking heavily against the shore.

"I'm only getting my feet wet,"  Rivka put her hands to her mouth and shouted back.  She shivered violently, cold and damp from the spray.  She would do this one thing then she'd go back to the house and call Lance to come get her. He wasn’t going to believe Pamela.  Didn’t he say he loved her? 

The water was colder than it had been that afternoon.  The first wave rushed toward Rivka and suddenly white flecks of foam danced around her ankles. 

She turned back toward the beach.  "There.  Are you satisfied," she yelled to Pamela.

"Further."  Pamela plunged into the water herself.  "Go out further.  That's not far enough. It doesn't count."

Rivka inched in deeper, one foot in front of the other, gripping the soft sand with her toes.  The retreating wave sucked back the water so that it barely covered her feet.

She took a deep breath and moved closer to the regiment of waves lining up in the distance.  They rolled in quickly, and she was suddenly up to her waist in frigid, inky black water.

Enough.  She started to struggle back toward shore, but the water tugged at her legs, and she lost her balance.  Salt water closed over her head, and she was plunged into darkness.  She couldn’t tell which way was up.  She splashed violently with her hands and kicked with her legs.  Her lungs burned, and she drew a panicked breath.  Salt water rushed up her nose and down her throat. 

She was drowning!

Just as suddenly the wave retreated, and she lay floundering on the beach, her nose, mouth and eyes stinging.  She gagged violently and began to cough.

She staggered to her feet and stood for a moment, bracing herself against the constant movement of the water and the tugging of the waves. 

“That’s far enough,” Mary yelled through cupped hands from the shore. 

“No.  Farther,” Pamela yelled back as she plowed through the water toward Rivka.  “Don’t be such a baby.”

Rivka ignored her and made for the shore as quickly as she could.

“I’m still telling Lance,” Pamela shouted.  “You’ll never see him again.  Never.”

Rivka reached the shore and fell to her hands and knees, coughing and spitting. She was crying and snot was running from her nose and into the corners of her mouth.  She struggled to her feet and turned toward Pamela who was standing thigh deep in the churning ocean.

“It’s your turn, Pamela.”  Rivka raised her voice so it would carry over the crashing of the waves. She felt light-headed but triumphant.  Now was the time. She no longer cared that she had promised her parents and Bubbe and Zaydeh.  She didn’t even care that this would destroy Pamela.

Because she knew it would.

“What do you mean?”

“Truth or dare, Pamela.  Truth or dare?”

Chapter 17

     “Dare,” Pamela shouted back and dove headfirst into the waves.

     “No.”  Rivka waded back into the water.  “This time it’s the truth, Pamela.”

     “No.”

     “Yes.” 

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     “Yes, you do.”  Rivka gestured toward Mary and Deirdre who were standing at the edge of the water.  “Tell them the truth.  Tell them who you really are.”

     “Never.”  Pamela gasped and sputtered as a wave broke over her head.

     “Then I’ll tell them.”

     “No.”  It was a desperate wail.

     Rivka turned toward Mary and Deirdre.  “Pamela isn’t a Miller after all, are you, Pamela,” she shouted over the roar of the waves.
     “Yes, I am!”

     “No, you’re not.  Lance told me.  “You’re adopted and so is he.  Your real mother is my crazy Aunt Ruth.  We’re actually cousins, Pamela.  Cousins.  How do you feel about that?”

     Pamela began to wail.  The sound rose above the pounding of the waves and filled the air, like an animal in terrible pain.  Rivka knew she would never forget the sound. All the triumph she’d felt a moment ago deflated like a punctured balloon.

Deirdre and Mary stood transfixed.  Deirdre put her hands over her ears and started to cry.  They watched as Pamela turned her back on them and plunged into the oncoming waves. 

     "We've got to do something," Rivka grabbed Mary's arm.  She shivered violently. 

     "She's trying to scare us.  You know Pamela," Mary wrapped the towel she'd grabbed around Rivka's shoulders. 

     "It's all my fault," Rivka cried.  "I shouldn't have told.  I promised I wouldn't.  I just wanted to make her stop."

     "Never mind," Mary scanned the tops of the waves, "It’s about time Pamela faced up to reality.  So what if she’s adopted?  I wouldn’t mind having you as a cousin.”  Mary gave Rivka a brief smile.

     Deirdre put both hands over her stomach.  "Do you think my baby's going to mind being adopted?"

     But neither Mary nor Rivka were listening. 

     "Pamela," Mary called, waving her hands in the air.  "Pamela!"

     "I don't see her."  Rivka’s teeth chattered loudly.  If something happened to Pamela, it would be all her fault.  "We have to do something.  Call for help."

     "It'll be too late."  Mary kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her jeans.  "I'm going after her."

     "No."  Both Rivka and Deirdre grabbed her arms. 

     Mary was tempted to let them stop her. The water looked so cold and dark.  She was a strong swimmer, but the ocean, especially at night, was different.  But, she had no choice.  Rescuing Pamela would make up for the other bad things she had done.  She remembered when the priest at St. Michael’s used to give them penance after confession, and they had to say half a dozen Hail Marys, or even the entire Rosary, while kneeling on the hard floor, knees aching.  Now, even a dozen Rosaries weren’t enough to pay for her sins.  She needed something bigger to make up for all she’d done.  Like risking her life to save Pamela.  Maybe then God would forgive her.