Truth or Dare

by Peg Cochran

  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.

  They were stopped at a light when Deirdre’s cell phone rang. She flipped it open and smiled.

  Mary turned around from the front seat. “Who was that?”

  “Maureen.” Deirdre snapped her phone shut and put it in her purse.

  Mary frowned.

  “She’s the lady who’s going to adopt my baby, remember?”

  “Does she bother you like this all the time?” Pamela stepped on the gas as the light changed to green, and they shot forward again.

  “It’s no bother. She’s checking to see how I’m doing. It's sweet really," Deirdre smiled dreamily. "They may come down to see me tomorrow. She said they have something for me.”

  Pamela shrugged. “It’s your life, I guess, but I wouldn't want someone annoying me like that all the time.”

  "I like it."

  Pamela made a right turn, and they began heading toward the ocean. Rivka could hear its faint roar in the distance. The air was cooler, and she pulled the sweater her mother insisted she bring out of her duffle bag. She put it around her shoulders and scrunched down in her seat, out of the wind rushing across the open top of the convertible.

  Finally Pamela made a left turn, and they crunched along a gravel drive and pulled to a stop in front of a darkened house. The house was unlike anything Rivka had ever seen. Modern, with hardly any lawn and a driveway made of smooth, round pebbles. Across the street, she could make out the shape of tall banks of sand covered with waving sea grass. The pounding of the ocean was louder here, and she imagined it was somewhere in the darkness beyond the mounds of sand.

  Inside, the house was modern and open with high ceilings and large windows. Rivka pressed her nose to the glass, but it was too dark to see anything. She couldn’t wait for morning when they would be able to see the water. She'd only been to the ocean once. Her parents had taken her to Jones Beach, but she got badly sunburned, and they never went back again. Instead, they spent beautiful Sunday afternoons traipsing down the dark halls of the Museum of Natural History with her mother going on and on about the exhibits as if they were going to take a test.

  They followed Pamela up an open staircase to the second floor.

  "This is my room," Pamela pushed open one of the doors. "The guest rooms are down there." She pointed toward three doors at the other end of the hallway. "You can pick which one you want. I don't care."

  "Where are your parents staying?" Rivka peered around one of the open doors.

  "They have a suite downstairs, but they won't be here this weekend."

  Rivka swallowed hard. Her parents would definitely disapprove of the four of them being here alone. But it didn't matter since they would never know. The thought made her stomach do weird, excited flip-flops.

  Pamela shoved her suitcase into the room. "I'm going to unpack. Towels and stuff are in the bathrooms." She started to close her door but then swung it open again. "Lance's room is right there," she pointed across the hall. "In case anyone is interested."

  She stared hard at Rivka.

  Rivka stared back. She stared until Pamela looked away.

  It was the scariest and most exciting thing she had ever done.

  "I don't mind sharing," Deirdre tagged after Mary, her arms crossed over her chest. "I thought we'd all be together. Like a sleepover or something."

  Rivka looked into one of the rooms. "There are twin beds in here. You can share with me, Deirdre."

  "I'm grabbing my own space." Mary hefted Deirdre's suitcase onto one of the twin beds and turned to leave.

  Deirdre looked at Rivka. "I thought it would be fun to be together."

  "It will be fun." Rivka put her duffle bag on the other bed.

  Deirdre felt so tired—as if she hadn't slept in weeks, even though she slept all the time. The doctor said it was normal in the early months. She curled up on her side on one of the beds, her hands tucked under her cheek. All she wanted to do was sleep. There was a weird pulling sensation in her stomach—like she'd twisted a muscle or something. She moved around trying to get comfortab
le.

  "I'm going to the bathroom." Deirdre slipped off the edge of the bed and padded toward the bathroom. The pain was getting worse. Maybe it was something she'd eaten? She tried to remember what they'd had for dinner. Some kind of chicken dish. Her mother had made it before, and it hadn't bothered her.

  She felt her heart thump harder and faster. "Becky?"

  Rivka closed the closet she'd been peeking into and turned around.

  "I don’t feel so good." Deirdre put both hands on her abdomen where the pain was ramping up into a searing, twisting blade-like cramping.

  She went into the bathroom, slammed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Sweat beaded on her forehead, under her arms and across her chest. She fanned herself with her shirt. This wasn’t happening. Everything was going to be fine.

  She sank to her knees on the cold tile floor and made soft mewling sounds. She wanted her mommy and her daddy. She was scared.

  Someone pounded on the door. “Deirdre! What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Deirdre sniffled.

  She decided to sit on the toilet and slid her shorts and underwear down her legs. She gasped. Her panties were stained a bright, sopping, blood red.

  Deirdre screamed.

  More banging on the door, only this time it was shoved open a crack.

  “Deirdre, what’s wrong?” Mary stuck her head around the opening.

  “I’m bleeding.” Deirdre held out a hand red with blood.

  Mary took one look. “You need to go to the hospital.”

  Pamela was right behind Mary. “Why bother? She’ll be well rid of the little bastard.”

  Mary spun around, and for a minute it looked like she was going to slap Pamela.

  "I don't want to lose the baby," Deirdre wailed. "I'm giving it to the Bergmans. They have a present for me and everything. I promised Mrs. Bergman I'd take care of myself."

  Mary turned toward Pamela. "Where's the nearest emergency room?"

  “It’s all the way back across the bridge.”

  “Then we’d better hurry.”

  Pamela insisted on putting a towel down so Deirdre wouldn't bleed on the upholstery. Deirdre lay curled up on the back seat, with Rivka holding her hand, watching the lights stream by in a blur overhead. There wasn't much traffic, and they breezed up Long Beach Island until they hit a red light.

  Pamela slowed to a stop.

  "Why are we stopping?" Deirdre cried from the back seat, struggling to sit up. "Are we there?"

  "Go through the light," Mary demanded. She looked both ways. "No one is coming, just go."

  Pamela hesitated, then stepped on the gas.

  “Hurry.” Deirdre whispered as she felt a fresh rush of warm blood.

  “Don’t worry. We’re almost there.” Rivka patted her hand. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” Deirdre wailed. “I’m going to lose the baby, and I’ll never see the Bergmans again.”

  “What do you care?” Pamela paused at a light long enough to see if there was any traffic coming.

  “I like them. They care about me and pay attention to me.”

  “Well you won’t ever see them again after you have the baby, will you? So what’s the difference.” This time Pamela had to stop. She beeped frantically as two cars crawled through the intersection.

  “I might see them again.” Deidre sniffed. “They said it would be okay. As long as I don’t tell the baby I’m really its mother.”

  “I don’t know if I’d like that,” Mary said. “It would be dishonest.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk.” Pamela slowed as traffic thickened near the bridge to the mainland.

  Mary clenched her teeth and bit back a retort.

  Finally they pulled up in front of the hospital. The entrance was dark, and they could see a security guard hovering inside the doors.

  “Where do we go?”

  “There.” Mary pointed toward a sign. “That’s the ER.”

  Pamela pulled into a parking space marked “For Emergency Use Only.”

  “Are we allowed to park here?” Rivka stood shivering by the side of the car.

  “If this isn’t an emergency, I don’t know what is.” Mary put out a hand to Deidre. “We’re here, Deirdre. Everything's going to be okay.”

  The Emergency Room was empty except for a young couple and a little boy in a pair of teddy bear pajamas. He kept pulling on his ear and crying, “hurt, hurt.”

  A nurse whisked Deirdre off. Mary wanted to go with her, but the sharp-nosed nurse wouldn't let her. Deidre's face was white and scared as she disappeared around the edge of a blue curtain.

  Mary joined Pamela and Rivka in the waiting room where they had the choice of poking through dog-eared, out-of-date magazines or watching sitcom reruns on a television mounted on the wall.

  "I'm going to call Deirdre's parents." Mary threw down the copy of National Geographic she was pretending to read.

  "Do you think she would want us to?" Rivka looked up from her copy of The Smithsonian.

  "Probably not." Mary looked around the waiting room. "But I think we should call them anyway."

  “Here’s my cell.” Pamela dug in her purse, pulled out her phone and handed it to Mary.

  “I think you have to go outside with it.” Rivka pointed to a sign with a picture of a cell phone and a red line through it. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Mary shook her head.

  Moths buzzed around the light over the emergency room door. Mary watched them fling themselves against the lit globe as she listened to the phone ring and ring at Deirdre’s house. She glanced at her watch. It was 2:30 a.m. Surely Deirdre's parents were home by now?

  Finally there was a click and the phone was picked up.

  “Hello.” A female voice, thick with sleep, answered. “Who is this?”

  “Hello?” A male voice chimed in almost simultaneously.

  Mary opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get out a word, Mrs. Ruffelo was speaking again.

  “Mike? Is that you? Where on earth have you been?”

  “Barbara? I fell asleep on the couch. Go back to sleep. I’ll be up—“

  “Bullshit. You just got in. And you’re drunk.” Her voice was awake now and sharp.

  “Hello?” Mary finally interjected.

  “Hello?” Mike said.

  “Fine,” Barbara said. “Talk to your bimbo, then.” There was a click.

  Mary wanted to hang up, too, but she reminded herself that this was important.

  “Sorry about that. Who is this?”

  “Mr. Ruffelo? It’s Mary. Mary Dixon.”

  “Mary,” he drawled, and Mary thought he definitely sounded as if he’d been drinking. "What can I do for you, Mary, at this extremely advanced time of night?”

  “It’s Deirdre,” Mary began. She told him what had happened. "I think you should come."

  There was a momentary silence. "Deirdre's over eighteen. No reason they can't treat her. They don't need parental permission."

  Mary didn't know what to say. If she had been in this situation, her parents would already be on their way. Even her mother, in all her craziness, at least tried to be there for Mary.

  "She needs you," Mary pleaded. She thought of the blood all over the towel in the back seat. "She's scared. And so are we," she added.

  "Dear, sweet, little Mary." Mr. Ruffelo definitely was drunk, Mary decided. "If you need me, of course, I'll be there. How could I refuse?"

  It was almost four a.m. by the time the sharp-nosed nurse came out to the waiting room. “Your friend would like to see you.” She gestured toward Mary, Rivka and Pamela.

  Deirdre was propped up in a hospital bed wearing one of those gowns with snaps on the shoulders. She had a thin blanket over her legs.

  “It’s going to be okay.” She smiled at them. Her face was very pale. “The baby is okay. Something caused the bleeding. The doctor explained it, but I didn’t really understand. I know he
said the baby would be okay.” She turned toward the nurse. “That’s right, isn’t it? The baby’s going to be okay?”

  “That’s what the doctor said.” The nurse's lips were drawn into a thin line as if she as if the thought made her unhappy.

  “Do you have to stay here?” Mary stretched and stifled a yawn. There was the faintest glow of light beyond the window.

  “I think I can go...” Deirdre looked at the nurse, again.

  The nurse shrugged. “If doctor is discharging you… Let me see if the papers are ready.”

  It was almost three o'clock in the afternoon before Rivka got her first real glimpse of the ocean. Wind whipped across the surface of the water, foaming the tops of the waves and swirling sand from the sea floor. Rivka, Pamela and Mary walked down the steep, wooden steps to the beach, the long, waving sea grass tickling their legs.

  Rivka stopped on the bottom step, and Mary and Pamela piled into her.

  "What's the matter?" Mary grabbed for the beach bag that was slipping from her shoulder.

  "Nothing. It's so big. And loud." Rivka had to shout to be heard above the crashing waves. She stood for a moment and looked. The wind tossed her hair around her face in curling, blond tendrils, and she had to pull a piece out of the corner of her mouth.

  "And crowded." Pamela scanned the beach. "Let's sit over there." She pointed to an empty spot amidst the brightly colored towels.

  They trooped across the hot sand, and spread out their towels. Pamela stretched out on her back with the straps of her bikini top pushed down around her arms. "I bet you're glad you're not really at that stupid synagogue outing." She lifted her sunglasses and glanced at Rivka.

  Rivka felt her stomach knot. It was like a black cloud had suddenly covered up the bright sun. Somehow she'd managed to forget about the seminar. She'd even forgotten about her parents.

  She rolled onto her stomach trying to get comfortable. Her parents would never know, she reassured herself. Pamela would drop her back at the synagogue parking lot, and Rivka would call them on Pamela's cell phone. She'd pretend they'd gotten in early and that a friend had loaned her the phone so she could call. Her parents would feel guilty being the last ones there to pick her up, but they'd get over it.