Chapter 4 #2
She continued looking at our rented house, which had always looked cheerful to me.
Now, seeing it through her eyes, the turquoise paint looked garish.
Even Mae’s roses appeared tinselly in the orange glow of the globe light by the door.
My father planned to fix the railing along the front steps, but he hadn’t gotten to it yet.
“I can’t do that.” She shook her head. She usually wore pearl earrings, small, but tonight her earrings were shaped like silver bats, one dangling from each earlobe by a little chain.
“I have to tell them. And before I do, I have to ask you, Nora. Do you know that you might already be…” She looked at me, stricken. She couldn’t say the word.
“I’m not,” I said. I wanted to slither under the floor mat, under the car. I wanted to disappear. “I won’t have a baby, is what I mean. If that’s something you’re worried ab—”
She slapped the steering wheel. “My God, Nora! Of course that’s something we’re worried about! And something your parents should be worried about. Something I hope you and Leonard thought about.”
“I can’t be, is what I’m saying.” I didn’t think I could get the words out. “Things didn’t go that far. We didn’t let things get that far, I mean. And we don’t. We haven’t. I know you’re disappointed in me, Mrs. Lifton. But you don’t have to worry about a baby. That’s not what I want. Not at all.”
I watched her take in my face, trying to decide if she believed me. After a moment, I could see she did.
“I still have to tell them,” she said. “You’re in over your head. If you were to end up in trouble, and your parents knew we hid this from them, we would be complicit. Leonard is our son, our responsibility. And he should not have taken advan—”
“It was my idea,” I said.
She leaned back against her window, staring at me. To look at her, I could have been a cobra, coiled and baring fangs.
“I still have to tell them.”
“Why?”
She turned to me, angry. “Because I told my husband I would. That’s why.
Believe me, I do not want to go in there, into your parents’ home, and say this thing to them.
Leonard is my son, and you were in our home.
And do you know why it’s me? Do you know why it’s me and not Leonard’s father who has to go in there? Do you know why he’s not here?”
She waited for me to shake my head. I really had no idea.
“Because…” She smacked her hand against the steering wheel again, and then again and again as she spoke: “I…have…been…de…fend…ing…you. For I don’t know how long, I’ve been telling John that he was wrong about you, that we didn’t have to worry.
And that took a lot. I like a tranquil home.
I had a tranquil marriage. But I argued with him, over and over again, for you.
And for Leonard. I told him he was wrong about you, that you were a nice girl, and good for Leonard.
” She was silent for several seconds, catching her breath. “Do you see the position I’m now in?”
“I am a nice girl!” It felt like the truth, but maybe it wasn’t. There was perhaps something wrong with me, something monstrous indeed. Leonard’s father had always known—he’d been able to see it.
She let me cry for a while, then cleared her throat.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll make you a deal.”
I lowered my hands. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to grab her hand and kiss it.
“Wait,” she said. “On one condition. Listen to me. You need to promise you’ll have nothing to do with Leonard. Nothing. Do you understand what I’m saying? Break things off completely. No telephone calls. Nothing. Not even at school.”
She blurred before me. I shook my head.
“Okay,” she said. “That’s the only other way.” She started to get out of the car.
“Wait!” I couldn’t think. “For how long?”
“Permanently.” She said this as if it were obvious.
“Nora. Even if I take you at your word, and feel satisfied he’s done you no harm, we obviously can’t trust you or Leonard to use good judgment.
Imagine the position we would be in if you ended up in a condition, and your father found out, too late, that we’d kept this from him.
I’m risking a lot for you. Including my conscience.
So if I hear about you so much as talking to Leonard—tomorrow, next week, next month, next year—I’ll have to tell your father why we can’t allow it. ”
I looked back up at the house. Winged insects swirled around the globe light. My father, if he knew, would make the same restrictions. Leonard was lost to me either way.
“You need to promise,” she said. “If you can’t do that, and if you can’t mean it, we should get this over with now. It’s my responsibility to protect you, one way or another.”
It was over, I thought. All that wonder, all that luck. When I was older, out of the house, I could bear my father knowing. But Leonard would already be gone. I turned back to Mrs. Lifton. It was my fault. I’d done it.
“We’ll break things off,” I said.
She shook her head. “No ‘we,’ Nora. You. You stay away, no matter what he says. I know my son. He can be intractable. And impulsive. I need to count on you.”
“Okay,” I said. I felt an actual pain in the center of my chest, radiating out.
“When I say nothing, Nora, I mean nothing. I don’t care whose idea it is. If I hear of you two spending any time together, anywhere, believe me—I will immediately call your father and tell him about that little water party. You’ll leave me no choice.”
I turned to her. There was pity in her eyes, but they watched me closely.
“I’ll stay away,” I said. “I’ll stay away from him. I promise.”
My voice was steady, and I held her gaze. At the time, scared as I was, I believed I was telling the truth.