Truth or Dare (8 page)

     "Hey, pay attention." 

     Deirdre sat up abruptly.  "What?"

     Pamela sighed.  "I said, are you or aren't you pregnant?"

     For a minute Deirdre thought about lying, but then she realized that Mary and Pamela were the only people she had to talk to. Besides, she wouldn't be able to hide it forever.

     "I'm five weeks late, and the test I bought in the drug store was positive."

     "What are you going to do?"  Pamela started in on a second shopping bag, lifting out a teal silk blouse and cutting off the tags.

     Deirdre shrugged.

     "There aren't all that many choices."  Mary shifted her position on the floor.  "Either you have it and keep, or have it and give it up for adoption, or you," she hesitated, "get an abortion."

     "That's what I would do," Pamela announced as she scrunched up the empty shopping bag and tossed it in the direction of the trash.  "It would be mean to let it be adopted."

     "Mean?"  Deirdre was wide awake now.  "Why? 

     Pamela glared at her.  "Just because, okay?" 

     Mary held up a hand.  "Geez, Pamela, don't take it so personally."

     "Well how would you like it if you—" Pamela suddenly clamped her mouth shut, and a look of horror darkened her eyes. She turned away abruptly.

     Deirdre glanced at Mary, and Mary shrugged her shoulders.

     "I think you should keep it."  Pamela sat down at her desk and flicked on her computer.  She tapped the keys briefly.  "Look," she pointed toward the monitor screen, "they have the cutest clothes for babies. It would be so much fun shopping for it.  You could get one of those fancy strollers—"

     "The ones that cost almost as much as a car?"  Mary pointed toward a price tag on the screen. 

     "Your parents could help."  Pamela looked over her shoulder at Deirdre. 

     Deirdre started to laugh.  "My parents don't take care of me. Why would they want to take care of my baby?"  She shook her head.  "I don't think I could keep it.  How would I finish school?"  She put a hand gently on her stomach, but there was nothing there yet.  Maybe the test was wrong?  Maybe she wasn't really pregnant after all? 

     "I would put it up for adoption," Mary said, moving back to her position on the floor.  "Someone who wants it and will be able to give it a good life.  How would you get anywhere stuck with a baby?"

     "Just because people put a baby up for adoption, doesn't mean they don't want it."  Pamela took a pack of cigarettes from her desk drawer and slammed it shut.

     "I don't think I do want it, though."  Deirdre ran a hand over her stomach again trying to feel some attachment to this thing that was supposedly growing inside of her.  "I wish it would go away."  She plucked at a loose thread on Pamela's bedspread.

     "If you want to put it up for adoption, I've seen people advertising on the internet."

     "What?  Like free to a good home?"  Pamela swiveled her chair around toward Mary.

     Mary frowned.  "No, you idiot.  There are couples advertising that they want to adopt a baby.  Tons of them.  Move."  She got up, pushed Pamela to one side and maneuvered in front of her.   She put her hands on the keyboard, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated.  She hit several keys, then punched "enter."  "See."  She pointed toward the web site that was loading on the screen.

     Deirdre slid off the bed and went to peer over Mary's shoulder.  She still had her hands pressed to her stomach as if they were going to rip the baby from her right then and there.

     "Wow," Deirdre flipped through the images on the screen.  "There are lots of people who want a baby.  Some of them look really nice, too."  She tapped her finger against the screen and read, "your child will receive all the love in the world as well as every advantage."  She turned around toward Pamela and Mary who were gathered behind her.  "That's so sweet, isn't it?"

     "Why don't you do it then?"  Pamela's tone was icy.  "Hand it over to the first person who catches your eye."

     "But it wouldn't be like that," Deirdre protested, wiping a tear from her cheek.  Everything made her cry these days.  "I just want what's best for the baby."

     "Then I think you should keep it."  Pamela raised her jaw and stared Deirdre in the eye.

     Deirdre blinked away a fresh assault of tears and squared her shoulders.  "No.  I can't.  It wouldn't have a good life with me—not like with some of these other people."  She pointed toward the monitor.

     "Well, go ahead and do it then."  Pamela grabbed her cell phone from the desk and shoved it toward Deirdre.

     "Okay.  I will."  Deirdre peered through her bangs at the screen and tapped in the number of Ed and Maureen. She stared defiantly at Pamela as she waited for the call to be answered.

Chapter 9

     “I’m going to the library.”  Rivka couldn’t look her mother in the eye. 

     Her mother laughed.  “The library?  Bubeleh, it’s Saturday night!  You’re working too hard.  Come to the movies with me and Tate.  That actor you like is in the film.  What’s his name? Natan?” She called toward the kitchen.

     “No, Mame,” Rivka started toward the front door. “I really have to study.  I want to get into a good college after all.”

     Her mother patted her on the cheek.  “Such a smart girl.  Okay, go ahead.  But tomorrow afternoon we’ll plan something fun, okay?”

     “Sure, Mame, sure.”  Rivka slid through the open front door and hastened toward the shadowy end of the front walk.  Her stomach twisted in a way that made her wish she hadn't eaten so much of the pot roast for dinner.  There must be something wrong with her.  Lying to her parents always made her feel sick. But what else could she do when they insisted on being so absurdly old-fashioned?

     An expensive red sports car turned onto their street with a loud, insistent beat blaring from the radio. Rivka looked back at the house and thought she saw the blinds move ever so slightly.  She tried to melt into the shadows as the car came to a halt.

     Before the driver’s door opened, she yanked open the passenger door and slid into the seat.

     “I would have come up to the house.”  Lance protested as she fastened her seat belt.

     Rivka shook her head.  “That’s okay.  I was ready early so I thought I’d wait outside.”

     Rivka's face burned.  She shouldn't have said that!  Now Lance knew she'd been ready early.  He probably thought she was some stupid, geeky, high school kid.  Which basically she was—she hoped she could get through the evening without doing anything even more stupid.  

     She leaned back in the seat and ran her hands over the smooth, leather upholstery.  The whole car smelled like a pair of very expensive shoes.  She'd never been in one like it.  She would have really been enjoying herself if it weren't for her stupid conscience poking at her and making her feel guilty for having lied to her parents.

     Darkened trees whizzed by the window.  “Where are we going?”  Rivka asked when they stopped at a light.

     “I thought we’d go to the flicks, if you don’t mind.  That new comedy is playing—the one with the actor all the girls like.”  Lance glanced at Rivka and smiled.  “I don’t want you paying too much attention to him, though.”

     “I…I won’t.”  Rivka gripped the door handle.

     The movies!  Her parents were going to the movies.  The same one.  What if she ran into them?  What would she do?  It would be hideous. She’d die of embarrassment.  They'd probably drag her back home as if she were still in diapers. 

     “Lance?”

     “Hmmm?”

     “Could we do something else instead?”

     “Sure.  No problem.  What do you feel like?”
     “Maybe we could go somewhere where we’d be alone?”  Rivka gave him a look like she’d seen on actresses in the movies. She hoped she didn't look stupid.

     Lance looked startled, but then stepped on the gas.  “Sure.  There’s no one at our house right now.  Pamela’s out, and my parents have gone to a party.  Will that do?”  He turned to her and grinned.

     Rivka felt her face getting red again.  What must he think of her!  But she couldn’t risk running into Mame and Tate.  She couldn’t!  But what if he expected…  Rivka felt her face burn even hotter as she slunk down in her seat.

Mary dragged her feet, dreading the moment when she would have to walk into Mr. Sobeleski’s news stand.  What if he had discovered that she’d taken the money?  She hadn’t taken all of it—just enough to cover the cost of her SATs.  But Mr. Sobeleskwi was pretty shrewd even if he didn’t keep track of all of the cash that crossed the counter.  

She had to rush as she walked the last block into town.  She’d been to the psych ward at the hospital to visit her mother and had stayed too long.  Her mother was almost normal, or at least what passed for normal for her.  She’d put on street clothes and had combed her hair although she’d missed a huge spot in the back of her head where it was tangled into a knot that looked like a bird's nest.

Mary passed the town clock which cast a looming, dark shadow on the sidewalk in front of her.  She yawned.  It was only eight o’clock, but she hadn’t been sleeping well lately.  The knowledge that she had taken money—
stolen
it—from Mr. Sobeleski stalked her dreams and had her lurching upright in the middle of the night, her nightgown drenched in sweat.  Every time she heard a siren, her breath caught in her chest, like a fist pressing against her windpipe.  She thought if she could put the money back, the dreams would end, but where was she going to get it from now?

Mr. Sobeleski was behind the counter and smiled when Mary pushed open the front door.  Mary felt her hopes rise.  Maybe he hadn’t noticed the missing money?   Then again, perhaps he was being polite in front of his customers.  A young couple in shorts and t-shirts stood in front of the counter watching as Mr. Sobeleski put several hiking magazines in a brown paper bag.   

The back room was stifling.  Mary began to sweat as she put her sandwich and drink in the small fridge.  She heard the bell over the front door tinkle, and the jangle of the beaded curtain as it was pushed to one side.

“Ah, Mary, there you are.”

Mary’s mouth went dry, and her stomach knotted up.

They started out watching a movie in the family room.  Even though Rivka had never seen it before, she couldn’t keep her mind on it.  Her mind was on Lance, sitting a foot away from her on the sofa.  He stirred in his seat, and she closed her eyes, half expecting to feel his hand stealing in her direction, touching her, forcing her to make decisions she wasn’t ready for.  But he just reached for the can of soda he’d put on the coffee table in front of them.

The movie droned on.  Rivka felt herself getting sleepy.  Somehow this wasn’t what she’d expected.   Her mother always preached ominously that boys were only interested in one thing.  She wondered if that was how it had been with Mame and Tate?  She couldn’t imagine it.  Surely they had been different.

The movie rolled to an end, and Rivka braced herself.  Now.  Now Lance would make his move.  She hadn’t decided yet how far she would let him go. 

“What did you think?”  Lance turned toward her.  “The critics are calling it one of Spielberg’s bests, but I’m not sure I agree with them.”

Rivka was startled.  She realized she’d lumped Lance into a certain category.  So far in her experience, the cute boys were dumb, and the smart boys were jerky goofballs like David Chang in her math class.  It seemed incredible that Lance could be good-looking, athletic and smart.

They talked for over an hour about…everything.  Movies, politics, books, algebraic formulas. 

And then suddenly he was kissing her, and it was better than the first time.  Better than she’d ever imagined.  She forgot to worry about whether she was doing it right.  She knew she was.

Somehow they had stretched out on the sofa, Lance’s leg thrown over hers, both his arms wrapped around her. Rivka forgot where she was.  Forgot everything but the moment.

A door slammed somewhere in the house, and they both jumped.  They could hear footsteps in the kitchen and then Pamela called out.

“Hey, I’m home.   Who’s here?  I’m home.”

Lance struggled up onto his elbows and started to call out, but Rivka reached up and slapped her hand over his mouth.  “Shhhh.  Don’t tell her I’m here.”

“Don’t be silly.”  Lance grabbed her hand and kissed the side of her neck.

Rivka hardly noticed.  “She doesn’t want me seeing you, remember?” 

“Who cares what Pammy wants?  It’s none of her business.”

Rivka struggled upright, her hands sinking into the soft sofa cushions.  She looked at her watch and nearly fainted.  It was eleven thirty!  What on earth was she going to tell her parents?

“I have to go.”   She yanked her hand from Lance’s and stumbled to her feet. 

“Okay, okay,” Lance put a finger to her lips.  “Whatever you want.”

Rivka pulled on her sweater and picked up her purse. 

“Come on.”  Lance grabbed her hand.  “We can go out this way.”

He led her down a hallway toward a windowless door.  Rivka followed him into the garage.  They inched their way past a shiny, dark blue Mercedes and out another door.