Pretending to Dance by Diane Chamberlain
I’ve been to two of her obstetrician appointments with her now. She’s doing well. Everything is progressing “perfectly,” according to her doctor. After each appointment, Sienna and I have done something fun. The first time we went to the Wild Animal Park. The second time out to lunch. I’ve been reading up on the problems that can come with open adoptions. Adoptive mothers can form a strong bond with a birth mother before the baby’s born, only to pull away from the birth mother once the baby’s been adopted. It’s not a malicious pulling away, the author stresses, but a natural progression in the relationship. Still, when that happens, the birth mother loses not only her baby but a meaningful friendship as well. It scares me that I might do that to Sienna. She becomes more precious to me every day. One thing I’m sure of: we are not Nora and Amalia. We are nothing like Nora and Amalia. We never will be like Nora and Amalia.
47
Morrison Ridge
I’d worried about how my parents would treat Stacy since I knew they—especially my mother—didn’t think much of her, but they were really nice to her as we all got into the van in our driveway for the trip to Atlanta. Stacy’s mother had dropped her off in front of our house, pulling out of our driveway so quickly that her silver van disappeared in a puff of dust from the road. I was sure she didn’t want to speak to either of my “hovering” parents.
Stacy and I sat way in the back of our van, which made Stacy freak. “I’m so claustrophobic,” she whispered to me, her face absolutely white. “We’re, like, trapped back here.”
“Not really,” I said. “The back door is right behind us.” I didn’t point out that we’d have to somehow climb over our seats and scrunch into the little space behind us to be able to open that door. I wasn’t even sure it was possible to open it from the inside. But she seemed reassured, and by the time we pulled onto the main road, the color was back in her cheeks.
Daddy sat in front of me, locked into place in his wheelchair, and Mom had the seat next to him, while Amalia and Russell rode up front.
Russell put a cassette in the van’s tape player once we were rolling on the highway. Jazz—my least favorite—but I was glad of it because it meant Stacy and I could talk without being overheard. We hadn’t had a chance to really talk since the week before, when my mother showed up at her house. We’d talked a few times on the phone, but I was paranoid that my parents were listening in and I didn’t dare say anything that might come back to bite me.
“I saw Bryan last night,” Stacy said quietly to me now.
“Where?” I asked. I was so jealous that she got to see him.
“At his house,” she said. “His parents were out.” She glanced at the seats in front of us, where my parents sat talking quietly with one another. “We did it,” she whispered.
I was shocked. “All the way?” I whispered back.
She nodded. “Actually, the first time was that night your mother showed up,” she said. “I haven’t been able to tell you because…” She nodded toward my parents. I’d told her talking on the phone wasn’t safe. “We’ve done it twice since then,” she said.
“Oh, my God.” I felt so left behind. “What was it like?”
“It sucked the first time.” She laughed quietly. “It hurt and just … well, it sucked, period. But then it got better.”
“He used those … Trojan things?”
“Of course.” She smiled this secret, knowing smile that made me feel like an ignorant little kid. “Guys hate them and I love that he wants to protect me that way,” she said.
I was so agonizingly jealous! She got to be with Bryan and I couldn’t even talk to Chris on the phone.
“I have to tell you something.” She made a pained-looking face. “It’s going to upset you.”
I stared at her. “What?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, but I’d want you to tell me, so—”
“What?”
“Last night at Bryan’s? Chris was there. With another girl.”
She may as well have punched me in the stomach. What did I expect, though? My parents wouldn’t let me see him. He couldn’t reach me on the phone, and there’d been no more of those hang-up phone calls in days. I guessed he’d given up. I couldn’t expect him to sit home every night and wish I was with him.
“Who was it?” I asked.
“This girl…” She shrugged. “I never saw her before,” she said. “She lives in Asheville. Julie somebody.”
“What did she look like?” I braced myself, not really wanting to hear the answer.
“She’s okay-looking,” Stacy said.
I knew that meant she was pretty. Stacy didn’t want to hurt my feelings any more than she already had.
“Is he really into her?” I asked. Did he love her?
“I don’t know. They were kind of off on their own. I didn’t talk to her much. I sort of gave her the cold shoulder out of respect for you.”
“I have to see him again!” I said.
“Sh!” She pointed toward my parents.
“They can’t hear us,” I said, but I lowered my voice just in case. “I have to get him back, Stacy!” I knotted my hands in my lap. “How can I do it?”
“You have to sneak out or something,” she said. “If you can figure out a time you can get together with him, I can get a message to him through Bryan. I’m sure he wants to see you. He really liked you.”
I noticed the past tense. I had to see him somehow!
And then I thought about Saturday night. The upcoming family meeting. Me, sleeping over at Nanny’s.
“I have an idea,” I said quietly. I told her about Saturday night. “My grandmother always goes to bed early. Like at ten. I could sneak out then and she would never know. Maybe Chris could pick me up and we could go to your house if your mother—”
She shook her head. “Saturday is my sister’s birthday. She’s coming down for the weekend and we’re having a party for her that night.”
“Oh,” I said.
“What about that creepy springhouse?” she asked. “You could meet him there. It would be perfect.”
Oh my God, she was right! I smiled for the first time since we’d gotten in the van. It was perfect. “When we get to the hotel,” I said quietly, “I’ll make a map of Morrison Ridge for you to give him, all right? Will you see him before Saturday night?”
“I’ll see Bryan Friday,” she said. “He can tell Chris the plan and get the map to him.” Then she grabbed my hand, grinning. “This is so cool!” she said. “I’m so glad you’ll get to see him!” Then she leaned over to whisper in my ear. “You and Chris really belong together, Molly,” she said. “I know this is going to work out perfectly!”
48
The concert was held in a football stadium, the chairs set up in the field facing the stage. It took us forever to find our seats and we were amazed to discover we were only about thirty rows back.
“I can’t believe your father was able to get these seats!” Stacy said, when we finally found our row. “Totally awesome.”
The stadium was packed with people of all ages wearing New Kids T-shirts and New Kids buttons and New Kids jackets, even though the night was hot. We sat through some opening performers and a magic act, but I had trouble concentrating. All I could think about was Saturday night. What if Bryan couldn’t get the map to Chris? What if Nanny decided that was the one night of the year she wanted to stay up late? So many things could go wrong, and while the crowd grew antsy and loud as we waited for the New Kids to take the stage, those possible mishaps were all I could think about.
When the New Kids came on stage and everyone started screaming their heads off, I felt out of it. I don’t belong here any longer, I thought. The girls around me jumped onto the seats of their chairs, waving their arms, begging for the guys to look in their direction. I stood on my chair, too—it was the only way to see—but I didn’t scream. I watched the New Kids dance around on stage—five guys who had absorbed every spare moment of my life for the
But as the concert continued, I was drawn back in. They were so good. So exciting to watch. So passionate about what they were doing up there on the stage. I missed those guys and I was surprised when I felt tears burn my eyes. It was like watching old friends I’d lost and couldn’t figure out how to get back. I missed the longing for them. The safety of them. With Chris, I felt as though I’d crossed some sort of invisible threshold into another life that was scarier, harder to manage, and way too real. I wanted my old life back. The one where I could happily stare at posters of the New Kids and Johnny Depp for hours upon hours upon hours, where my parents trusted me, where Daddy could see the world clearly and the hardest thing I ever had to do was walk my bike up the Hill from Hell. I stood on my chair, holding on to Stacy’s arm as she screamed, and after a while, I screamed along with her.
49
I woke up the following morning with the sun pouring through the hotel room window. In the bed closest to the door, Stacy slept with the covers over her head, and I lay there for a few minutes, letting the memories of the night before wash over me before I realized I was starving. I got out of bed and dressed quietly so I didn’t wake Stacy. I’d see if my parents were up. Maybe I could go down to the coffee stand in the lobby and get some muffins or something for everyone. I’d need to get some money from my mother first.
I took my room key and stepped out into the hallway. I was nearly to my parents’ room when the door to Amalia’s room opened and Russell emerged, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt. He stopped short when he saw me and we stared at each other. I wasn’t sure which of us was more shocked.
“Morning, Molly,” he said finally, and he continued walking toward his door, which was right next to my parents’.
“Morning,” I said, my cheeks warm. Oh my God, I thought. What would my parents say if they knew he’d been in Amalia’s room, maybe all night long? I knocked on their door while Russell slipped his room key into his own door and stepped inside.
Mom opened the door, one of the hotel room’s little black plastic coffee cups in her hand. “Oh good,” she said. “You can help me sit Daddy up. I think Russell must still be sleeping.”
“Hi, darling.” Daddy smiled from his pillow. “Did you two get any sleep last night or were you too wired?”
“Not a lot,” I admitted. Stacy had spent much of the night talking about how Joey looked like Bryan, and I’d felt my brain ping-ponging between the magic of the concert and the reality of Chris. Now I moved to the side of the bed next to my father, while Mom knelt opposite me on the mattress. We both got a grip on him beneath his shoulders. “One, two, three,” Mom said, and together we propped his back up against the pillows. We had it down to a science.
“Much better,” Daddy said. Mom had made him a cup of coffee and I held it to his lips. “Even better,” he said after a sip.
“Russell’s up,” I said. “He’s in his room.”
“How do you know?” Mom asked.
“I saw him in the hallway,” I said. “He was coming out of Amalia’s room.” I waited for their reaction.
They looked at each other, their faces too blank to read. Then my father let out a laugh. “So much for discretion,” he said, and my mother smiled.
“I think you’re old enough to know, Molly,” she said.
“Know … what?” I asked.
“They’re a couple,” Daddy said. “We’ve kept it from you because they’re not married, obviously, and we thought it could be confusing, but … you’re not a kid anymore, are you?”
“No,” I said. Still, I was shocked. Not because Amalia and Russell weren’t married, and not because he was black and she was white. I was shocked this had been going on between two people I thought I knew so well and I’d never had a clue.
“How long have they been … a couple?” I asked.
“Year and a half?” Daddy looked at my mother.
“More like two years,” she said.
“Two years?” I couldn’t believe it. “Why don’t they get married?”
“A little challenging for them right now, with Russell always at my beck and call,” Daddy said.
I imagined what Russell’s life was like. He was so thoroughly tethered to my father. How could he and Amalia ever have a normal relationship as long as he worked for us?
I thought about my dance lesson the other day, when Russell pushed Daddy’s wheelchair out to the road. I remembered the way Amalia’d touched his arm and looked into his eyes. I thought she’d been communicating worry about my father to him, but maybe she’d been communicating something deeper than that. I felt afraid all of a sudden that they might get married and things would change. But Amalia loved my father. She and Russell both did. That was one thing I was sure of. They would both always want to do what was best for him.
I thought of how Nanny tried to keep Amalia away from Daddy and had to smile to myself. “Does Nanny know?” I asked.
“Good Lord, no,” Daddy said. “She couldn’t handle it.”
Mom knocked on the door that connected their room to Russell’s, and in a minute he was in the room.
“Ready to get out of bed, Graham?” he asked, all business and avoiding my eyes.
“Molly’s on to you,” my father said.
Russell glanced at me. “Yes, I figured she might be,” he said, and I thought he was fighting a smile.
“It’s okay,” I said, sort of shyly. It was too weird to imagine him and Amalia together, and I needed a change of subject. “Do you want me to get some muffins from that coffee shop in the lobby?” I asked my mother.
“Good idea,” she said, and reached for her purse.
“Blueberry for me,” Daddy said as Russell wheeled his chair to the side of the bed. “And get me two, please,” he added. Clearly, Daddy was no longer counting his calories.
I left the room and turned in the direction of the elevator. I thought about Amalia and Russell and shook my head with a smile. I never would have guessed, and I wondered what other secrets I was missing at Morrison Ridge.
50
San Diego
Aidan and I work at our desks in our home office. He’s checking e-mail. Across from him, I’m supposed to be working on a property settlement for a client. Instead, I’m looking at maternity clothes in an online catalog. Sienna is popping out of everything she owns and I want to buy her a few things. What I really would love to look at is baby clothes, but I won’t let myself do that. Not yet.
Our landline rings. The phone is on Aidan’s desk and he glances at the caller ID. I don’t even bother to look away from my screen. We’ve been talking about ditching the landline altogether. The calls are always solicitations for one thing or another.
“It says ‘unknown,’” Aidan says, and before I can tell him to ignore it, he picks up the receiver. “Hello?” he says, then he glances across our desks at me. “Yes, she’s here.”
I stand up to reach for the phone, then sit down again. “This is Molly,” I say.
“Molly, it’s Dani.”
I can’t remember Dani ever calling me. I didn’t even know she had my number.
“Hi, Dani. What’s up?” I ask, but I’m afraid I already know and the muscles in my chest tighten.
“I thought I should let you know that Amalia passed away,” she says. “I didn’t want to just write it in an e-mail.”
“Oh.” I hear the lack of emotion in my voice, but my insides are churning. “Was it that infection you told me about?”
“Yes. She just couldn’t fight it. My mother heard about it at church.”
“Oh,” I say again. I feel as though I’m standing outside myself, trying to figure out how I’m supposed to react. I’m aware that Aidan’s watching me from across our desks.
“Molly?” Dani prompts. “They had a service for her at some art studio in Asheville. I’m sorry I didn’t know about it in t
“I … It doesn’t really matter,” I say. Did she think I would have gone?
“I thought you might want Russell’s number.”
“Maybe you could just e-mail it to me.” I feel as though I might get sick. “I have to go, Dan—”
“Don’t get off yet,” she says quickly.
I wait, staring out the window. From where I sit, I can see the three white Spanish-style houses across the street. One of them is in desperate need of painting. I think about that instead of Amalia as I wait for Dani to continue.
“Aunt Nora called me last night,” she says. “She really wants to talk to you. She asked me to plead with you to call her or let her call you. Can I give her your number?” she asks. “Or at least your e-mail?”
“I’m sorry. No.”
Dani says nothing and an uncomfortable silence stretches between us. I’m ready to hang up when she speaks again.
“She’s your mother, Molly,” she says finally, as if I’ve forgotten.
“I know,” I say. If Aidan wasn’t sitting across from me, would I say more? I don’t think so.
“She loves you,” Dani says.
“I need to go. Thank you for letting me—”
“You know what, Molly?” Dani suddenly barks at me.
“What?”
“You’re an unforgiving bitch,” she says. “And I’m done with you! I’ve had it.”
The line goes dead.
I think of saying good-bye, putting up the pretense that the call has ended normally for Aidan’s sake, but I’m too numb to fake it. I set down the receiver on my desk and look over at him.
“Your cousin?” he asks.
I can’t answer. I see Amalia in the slave quarters, dancing across the floor. Dance what you feel, baby. I lower my head to my hands, and before I know what’s happening, I’m sobbing and Aidan is at my side, leaning over, his arms around my shoulders. I cling to him like he’s a life preserver, and when he says, “Talk to me, Molly. Please,” I know I’m going to tell him the truth.