Chapter Eight #2
Raleigh carried that much of a grudge against me? Where do people get the time?
“Well”—my voice trembles—“I’m not going to be scared to show my face at school.”
I wave goodbye to Emmy and turn to face Lorraine. “Good morning.”
“Diana. Can we talk for a minute?”
L’Wren shoots me a look to ask, Should I come with?
“I’ll call you later,” I tell her.
When Lorraine leads me over to the bike racks I can’t help but smile. But if she puts it together we’re at the scene of the original crime, she says nothing.
“Diana, hon. I’m not the type of person to avoid confrontation. I say what is on my mind and I’m always honest. I tell my children to do the same.” Her arms are folded across her chest as if I might be a physical threat.
“Thank you?”
“So in full disclosure, I did start a petition to have your family expelled from St. Mary’s. But truly, it’s not personal.”
“Then why is my name on the petition?”
“What I mean is, it’s not about you per se.
I have no beef with you. I barely know you.
I would start a petition for any parent who created pornographic material.
” Over Lorraine’s shoulder a group of parents do a terrible job of pretending not to stare.
“We’re a close-knit school community, Diana.
Right? Isn’t that what you’ve always loved about St. Mary’s? ”
She leaves me no room to answer before barreling on. “And one parent’s actions have a ripple effect, you understand? I’ve been on the site, Diana. I know what it is. The kids at St. Mary’s look to us to be their role models. How does Emmy feel about what you do?”
Until now, I have felt surprisingly calm. But when she mentions Emmy’s name it’s like she’s pulled a knife. Anger creeps up my neck. “I haven’t told Emmy. I don’t think she’s old enough.”
“Well, finally. We agree on something. Huzzah!” She cracks a smile, a mouthful of white, shiny Chicklet teeth.
“When she is old enough to understand, I think she will be supportive.”
“Diana, please. Don’t be na?ve. She’ll be humiliated.”
I dig my fingernails into my palms. I can’t remember disliking someone this intensely. “You could have done this a different way, Lorraine. We could have talked about this.”
“Like we did at the meeting? When you gave your Vagina Monologue? Please.”
Every time she says “please” it grates on me more. She goes on, “We approach life very differently.”
“We do.”
“I just don’t see how there will ever be a common ground, do y’all? And I think, honestly, most parents will side with me.”
—
I walk quickly back to my car, my head down in case I start crying. I slam the door shut and drive. The panic comes swiftly.
At first, it’s just a feeling of lightness.
Like I could float away if not for my seatbelt.
Not a terrible sensation on its own. But when I grip the steering wheel and try to ground myself, the feeling only intensifies.
Pay attention. You’re driving. Come back.
But I can’t get back into my body. If I can’t control my body, how do I control the car?
I panic. My palms sweat. I think about swallowing until all I can think about is swallowing.
Am I swallowing enough? Feel your feet in your shoes, feel the pinch of your pants at your waist. My eyes burn with tears.
I pull over just so I can close them. Come back.
I swallow and try and fail to catch my breath.
—
Miriam’s wearing jeans and it’s throwing me. I sit on her couch alone, no Oliver.
“Thanks for seeing me so last minute,” I say calmly.
Miriam seemed to hear it in my voice as soon as she answered my call.
On my way to her, I turned it all over and over again.
What if Oliver had taken Emmy to school today?
Would Lorraine have approached him for a signature?
How could I think Dirty Diana would stay a secret until I suddenly felt like telling him?
I was so na?ve, like a child playing hide-and-seek behind a broom. They’ll never find out it’sme!
“Diana, I don’t typically see individuals on their own, when I’m working with them as a couple. If you need a referral for someone—”
“It will just be this once. I needed to talk with someone who knows us both.”
“I can’t keep this from Oliver.”
“I know. I don’t want you to.”
I tell Miriam everything. From the start of Dirty Diana back in Santa Fe, to interviewing women in my office after work, to now, with Petra’s money and our own offices.
She lets me talk, never taking a single note or interrupting me with a question.
When I do finally fall silent, she sits up in her chair, crosses and recrosses her legs, not saying anything for what feels like a very long time.
When she does finally speak, it’s more of an exhale. “Well.”
“I’m ready to tell him. I want to tell him. We’re in a good place.”
“You’ve been waiting to tell him until, when? When you felt you could predict his reaction?”
“Sort of?”
“And you felt that his reaction would be one that made you feel closer instead of pushing you away?”
“We’ve been changing and moving in all the right directions, toward intimacy, but there is this small part of me…” I’m lying. A very big part of me. “…That is scared this will ruin it.”
“Why?”
“Because he’ll feel like he can’t trust me. Like I’ve kept something secret from him for so long.”
“Didn’t he also keep secrets from you?”
“Yes, but we’ve moved past that. Poker was never poker. It feels like ages ago already.”
“But this lie feels like something you can’t move past?”
“This lie is tied to who I am. A part of me.”
“Diana, you are not dirty.”
My eyes fill with tears.
“And your worry about lies, and which ones you can survive…Isn’t this version of a relationship you are protecting with Oliver the biggest lie of them all?”