by Tish Cohen
“There’s something I haven’t told you,” she said. She hugged her knees to her chest and told him about Hannah. Over the first glass of cabernet, she told him about the torn condom, about the pregnancy, about the hospital tests and Piper’s insistence that Rachel keep her life sparkling and shiny by giving up Hannah for adoption through an agency called Leaside. Over the second, she told him about the night with Hannah and Margaret and the reason she’d never been able to sleep late, ever again.
Len listened to the whole story in near-silence. He reached out and set his hand on her forearm. “And you’ve lived with this for sixteen years?”
Rachel nodded.
“God, you’re strong.”
“Strong? I handed my baby to the nurse like I was handing her a stack of folded linens. Where’s the strength in that?”
“In getting out of bed each morning,” he said, “raising those two beautiful children of yours. I don’t think I could have done it.”
“But you’re raising Olivia all by yourself. You’re doing the right thing. The only thing. You can live the rest of your life content. Proud.”
He smiled sadly. The rest of his life was not something he was content with. “Have you contacted Hannah?”
“I’ve tried. It’s a closed adoption.”
“Ah.”
“But now there’s this Shannon. It’s perfect. You can ask her to look something up. She’ll give you Hannah’s last name and her address. She’d do it for you in a heartbeat! All you have to do is ask.”
“But, Rachel, I can’t. I can’t do that. It would be unethical. I could get in serious trouble…”
“It’s a tiny name. How would anyone find out?”
“Rachel…”
“She’d never even question it. She’s the receptionist, she looks up names for people all day long. No one would get hurt. I’m not going to bother Hannah’s family, or, or make off with her in the night. I just want to know where she is. I need to know she’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’d do anything I could for you, but not this. I’ve never abused my client relationships, ever. It’s just not something I could do. Please understand.”
She pulled away and stared into the blackened fireplace. Then turned to him, eyes cold. “I’d do it for you without question.”
“You’re not a lawyer…”
She laughed angrily. “That’s not a good argument!”
“There happen to be a great many lawyers who actually care about the oaths they’ve taken.”
Rachel stood up, dropping the towel to the ground. She marched into the hall, pulled her wet jacket from the coat rack, and opened the front door.
Len got up and followed. “Rachel…”
When she looked back, her face was stony. “Until I had Hannah, I thought I knew what love was.” She blinked. “I didn’t. And of course I felt it again when Janie was born, and Dusty. But what a parent feels for a special child—it’s inexplicable. Hannah was so unique, so dependent, so completely defenseless. The thought of her being out there in the world without me…it still scares me to death. You, of all people, should understand.”
Len felt his throat tighten. “I do. More than you know.”
She stared at him for a moment, silent. Then marched out the door, slamming it behind her.
CHAPTER 27
“Cesspools in Eden”
—DEAD KENNEDYS
Two weeks into summer vacation, shopping bag knocking against her bare legs, Janie watched the city bus pull away as she approached the stop. Then, the bus slowed momentarily and, certain the driver had seen her, Janie broke into a run.
Bikini shopping could not have been more depressing. An hour and a half in front of a full-length smoked mirror designed to visually soften the jiggly bits that the glaring overhead lighting worked so hard to accentuate. She must have tried on every bathing suit in the store, finally settling for a racy black tankini, because the highcut legs made her thighs look longer and the reinforced top might actually keep her chest from becoming its own personal flotation device.
The bus picked up speed. Janie ran toward it, shouting, “Hey!” and waving her free arm. But it blew right past in a cloud of exhaust.
Shit. That was the one forty-nine. Another bus wouldn’t come for thirty-three minutes. She trudged down a short slope to cross under the roaring freeway overpass. It would be a long, dirty walk home.
At the bottom of a stairway, she spotted a few guys huddled over a hash pipe. She slowed for a moment, contemplated going back to the bus stop, but one of the guys looked up and saw her. Cody Donovan. How embarrassing. With no choice now but to continue, she held her chin high and debated saying hello—a daring move she’d never have attempted a month ago—or pretending to be fascinated by something in her bag.
“Hey, Berman,” called Cody, waving her over. His friends looked up and grinned—quite possibly happy to see her.
“Hey.” She sashayed closer, hiding her Island Bikinis bag behind her legs. “Are you having as shitty a summer as me?”
They all nodded, laughed, passed the pipe around the circle.
“My parents wanted me to go on a trail ride for the day,” said Bruce Weiner. “That piece-of-crap flytrap along the freeway.” The guys broke out laughing, nudging and bumping into Bruce. “Horses ready for the dog-food factory.”
“Never mind,” Janie said, “it would have been mostly girls there.” She knew this for a fact. And if Tabitha hadn’t announced she was staying home by the pool all weekend, Janie might have considered signing up for a ride herself.
Bruce thought about this. “This chick’s a genius,” he said, thrusting the pipe in the air. “Berman for student body president!”
Robert giggled. “I’ll vote for that body!”
Janie’s spirits reeled. Sure, they were guys. But not even a stray dog had paid her any attention all year. She’d forgotten how good it felt to be wanted again.
Cody moved her away from the others. “I have to apologize for my moronic friends. They’re, uh, basically they’re morons. A lady like you deserves a higher-quality guy. A man.” With a sweep of his hand, he gestured toward himself.
“I better go before my mom drags the river.”
“Wait,” he said. “I’m having a weekend-long party later this summer. My parents are going away. You should come by. Seventy-six Denby Drive.” He pulled a pen out of his back pocket and gave it to her, holding out his hand as a paper. “Give me your number and I’ll call you when I know the day.”
She smiled, trying her best to appear detached. Aloof. Like it wasn’t the one and only party invitation she’d had all year. Dropping her bag to the ground, she took the pen with one hand and his sweaty palm with the other, to steady it, and scrawled the number. Not one of these guys realized how very badly Janie didn’t want them. But none of that mattered. What mattered was that, finally, finally, someone seemed to want her.
Janie hugged her bag to her chest and smiled to herself as she turned to head home.
“Hey, Berman,” Cody called. “Just don’t bring that little upside down kid. You’ll be too busy for super-heroing.”
CHAPTER 28
Friday Night at the Galaxy Bowl
Let’s face it. Life can get distracting, especially for parents. But time with a child is precious and needs to be guarded. When faced with a distraction, remind yourself that your child lives in the moment and needs all your attention along-side him.
—RACHEL BERMAN, Perfect Parent magazine
Eriday evening, as Mindy tiptoed into Rachel’s office, an older woman carrying a desk lamp walked out. They both smiled and offered bumbling apologies for nearly colliding, and the older woman slipped into the hall.
Mindy plopped herself into a chair. “You did it?”
Rachel nodded. “The woman’s been here thirty-five years, started out as my father’s assistant, and I just let her go.” Pulling out a handful of tissues, Rachel dabbed her eyes. “She must hate me. I
gave her my dad’s lamp—some compensation, huh?”
Mindy sighed. “Rachel, slow down.”
Rachel sucked in a fluttery breath. “Everyone’s going to be looking over their shoulders now. Wondering who’s next.”
“Monica was going to retire soon anyway. Everyone knows that,” Mindy said.
“You don’t understand. I haven’t told anyone yet, not even my mother, but our holiday party, we can’t do it this year. There’s not enough money.”
“Seriously? That’s when—”
Rachel shook her head. “No bonuses this year.”
“Wow.”
The phone rang. Mindy reached across the desk and picked up.
“Perfect Parent.” Mindy twisted her mouth to one side to stave off a smile. “One moment, Mrs. Dearborn, I’ll see if she’s still in.” Rachel shook her head and picked up her car keys, jiggling them in the air and pointing toward the door.
“Oh, you know what?” Mindy said into the receiver. “She’s just left for the day.” She paused, listening, then, after mumbling in agreement a few times, Mindy hung up and looked at Rachel. “Apparently you should have left earlier. You’re meant to be meeting Len.”
“Shit! I had plans with him. We were all going bowling together.” Rachel pulled her purse out of her desk drawer. “I forgot to cancel.”
“Cancel?”
“Long story. I better call home and tell the kids to get ready…”
“You’re too late for that too. Your mother’s driving Dustin and Janie to the bowling alley herself. Otherwise, she said, Len will think he’s being stood up and she didn’t raise you to stand people up.” Mindy raised one eyebrow. “She makes a good point.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“She also wondered aloud whether Dustin should have this forced upon him. Apparently, he’s not into ‘this Len person’…”
Rachel shook her head and walked away.
Following her out of the office, Mindy flicked off the overhead lights. “Oh, she also said if she’s going to drive all the way down there, she might as well stay and play.”
Rachel paused just long enough to sigh before heading out to the parking lot.
The faded sign floating above the mall entrance was in the shape of a boomerang. GALAXY BOWL was scrawled out in pink neon along the top arm; OPEN UNTIL MIDNIGHT was in red along the bottom. For as long as Rachel could remember, it had buzzed as if full of flies, most of the neon tubing having burned out long ago.
Rachel drove through a deep puddle and pulled into a parking spot to find Piper climbing out of the white Range Rover right beside her and popping open an umbrella. Dustin and Janie shot their mother aggrieved looks from the backseat.
“This is a nice surprise,” said Rachel, slamming her car door and flipping up her collar in defense against the misty drizzle. She kissed Piper’s cheek. “You should have brought Arthur, we could have made it a double date.”
“No chance of that,” said Piper. “Arthur and I broke up.”
“No! He sounded so good for you.”
“He was. Until he reconciled with his ex. She’s five years younger than me and her daddy owns the brokerage.” Piper reached inside the car for her purse. “What can I say? Men, especially older men, are bastards.”
“No argument here,” called Janie.
“They’re obsessed with youth and money, and the more hair they lose, the worse it gets. I’m absolutely done with them. I’ve got my health,” Piper paused to smile bravely at the kids, “and my family. I’m happy if the rest of you are happy.”
Rachel waved at Janie and Dustin to get out of the car. “Well then, let’s head inside and get happy.” The kids didn’t budge. “Come on, guys. They’re waiting for us.”
Janie squinted through the windshield toward the entrance, where Len waited with Olivia, who was hopping on one rainbooted foot and clasping her hands to her heart. Janie shook her head and muttered, “She’s going to be all over me.”
“Olivia?” said Rachel. “Len says she adores bowling. She won’t be bothered with you. Now hurry up. I’m getting soaked.”
Groaning, Janie poured herself out of the car, pulled her jean jacket over her head, and trotted behind her grandmother toward the Galaxy Bowl doorway.
“Let’s move it,” Rachel said to Dustin.
“Uh-uh. Not if he’s going to be there.”
“It’s a game, honey. Not a wedding.”
“I’ll wait here.”
“Dustin, you’re embarrassing me.”
“I can’t stand him.”
Len jogged up, having left Olivia wrapped around Janie’s legs
and Piper under her umbrella. His half-smile told Rachel he was no more sure than she was as to where they stood after her night in the rain. He kissed her cheek, leaned down, and peered inside the car. “Don’t be intimidated, Dustin. My gutter balls are legendary at this place.”
Dustin let out an unimpressed huff. “Why don’t the rest of you go ahead?” Rachel whispered to Len. “Dusty and I will join you in a few minutes…”
Len leaned against the car door. “I’ve been looking forward to bowling with another guy, for a change. Come on, Dustin. Help me out.”
“Please, Dustin,” said Rachel. “You and I will be a team.”
Dustin turned just enough to expose his profile, and picked at his grandmother’s leather seat. “Give me one week of skate camp, Mom, and maybe I’ll come.”
“I’m not falling for this…” said Rachel.
“Please, Mom! One week. Half a week. I won’t even go on the bigger half-pipes and NO rails. I promise.”
“Dustin…”
“You know,” Len said quietly, “my client and his wife just opened a skate facility. They’re running a summer camp with a real focus on safety. No big equipment. It’s all about technique. Technique and hot lunches.” He pulled the hood of his windbreaker over his head and studied her. “Not too hot. Warm, really. And peanut-free. Though I can’t make any promises about the grapes being sliced.”
“Mom?”
Len looked at Rachel. “The guy’s wife is a pediatrician.”
“Mom! You have to say yes…”
Rachel chewed on her lip, glancing from Len to Dustin and back again. Rain trickled under her collar.
“Please, Mom.”
“Do they have a Web site?” she asked Len.
“It’s www.safeskate.com.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I’m not,” Len said, grinning. “I’ll give you their phone number later. You can talk to them yourself.”
She leaned down and stared at Dustin. “I’m not saying yes. But I’m not saying no.”
“Seriously? Thank you SO much!”
“I can’t believe I’m even considering this…” she said, as Dustin leaped from the car, squeezed her tight, then jogged behind Len, buzzing with camp questions.
At the doorway, Piper collapsed her umbrella and awaited her introduction. After offering up her fingertips for shaking, and informing Len it was a delight to meet him, she hung back with Rachel. Then, pulling out her Chanel lipstick, Piper whispered, “I hope for your sake he doesn’t work for his ex-father-in-law like Arthur.” She slipped her arm through Rachel’s and watched Olivia hop backward to the doors. The child’s cheeks were flushed pink from the effort, her lips a just-licked red even Chanel couldn’t replicate.
“The girl’s striking,” said Piper as they walked. “Something of a shame, isn’t it?”
“Mom. Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying. All that beauty going to waste.”
“They’ll hear you…”
Len smiled back at them as he held the dirty glass door. Olivia ran inside first, tripping over the black entry mat. “You have to picture where you want the ball to go,” she said to Dustin when she righted herself. “That’s the only way to bowl a strike. If you don’t actually picture it, you should just give up and go pick strawberries with your grandma.”
“I’m on Janie and Rachel’s team,” Olivia chirped.
“Then I guess I’m on Len’s,” said Dustin, leaping into an imaginary kick flip before venturing further inside.
Rachel looked at Len, who appeared to be every bit as shocked as she was. She wished she wasn’t still stewing about Shannon, she’d have loved to push the wet bangs off his forehead.
Janie walked up from behind. “This is so embarrassing.” She tucked her face inside her jean jacket. “If I see one person from school, I swear to God I’m leaving.”
“Let me know if you need change for the bus, honey,” said Rachel.
Janie exhaled and stomped off after her brother.
“Ah, yes,” Len said. “This evening should turn out ju-ust fine.”
“Don’t anybody look at all the birthday parties,” said Olivia. “Things like that are called distractions. Athletes like me have to stay focused.”
Piper looked impressed. “Sounds like you really know your stuff.”
“I better,” Olivia sniffed. “I’ve been playing bowling for three whole years. Just keep your shoulders straight. If you don’t, your ball will go in the gutter. And if the thumb holes in your ball are too big, just tell me…” She patted her back pocket. “I got triplesided tape.”
A few minutes later, huddled around Lane Five’s table—orange laminated, amoeba-shaped, and speckled with cigarette burns—they split into two teams: Olivia, Rachel, and Janie against Dustin, Piper, and Len. After lacing up her bowling shoes—half-burgundy, half-navy, with neon-green laces—Janie caught sight of tenth-grader Kyle Winters and his friends from school, babbled something about Kyle being Cody something-or-other’s cousin, and went into hiding. Out came her sunglasses and her brother’s beanie. She huddled under their wet raincoats and all but made herself invisible, calling out, “You people have no idea how NOT here I am.”
