Chapter 8 β Dee's Diary β Best Laid Plans
TUESDAY, MAY 7th
LATER IN THE DAY
Dear Diary,
My life is over.
I realize that I'm not writing this where I said I'd be, and I realize that things did not progress quite the way I said they would (Well, THAT'S an understatement!), but here I am, as promised, writing my last entry. I still can't believe what happened ... in fact, I'm not sure just what DID happen. But here it is, for what it's worth.
After getting the prescription refilled, I drove to Fred and Brenda's house hoping desperately that he was out for the morning and that she was in. But this was not the case, of course, and my heart leaped into my throat and plunged to the depth of my soul when he opened the door and we just stood there, staring at each other nervously.
"Hi," he said finally. "Where did you go last night?" He eyed me with what appeared to be a great deal of candor. It took me awhile to figure out that it was ME that was acting very peculiarly. I must have looked a fright!
"I just came to see Brenda," I said, as forcefully as I could (which, of course, was not very). "Can I talk to her?"
"She's not here," he replied. "She went to do some research at the library."
"The University Library? I'll find her." And I quickly turned to leave, but in a flash, he'd reached out and grabbed my arm. Oh gosh, his very touch sent shivers through my whole body. He spun me around to face him. I couldn't look at him. Silently and weakly, I stared down at my feet. If he kisses me, I'm a goner, I thought; and I had to fight with all my might not to throw my arms around him and hold him.
"Dee, what's the matter?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
"Nothing. I just have to talk to Brenda. I'll go and find her," I said to my feet.
"You'll do nothing of the sort," he replied firmly, and he half-led half-dragged me down the short hallway into the living room. I looked around me with alarm. The scene of the crime! When I last saw that couch, Brenda had been sleeping peacefully while Fred and I were on the sheepskin rug .... I faced him, but I still couldn't make eye contact.
"Dee, tell me what's wrong!" He was really worried now.
"Nothing," I murmured, shuffling back away from him. "I just have to find Brenda, that's all. I've got to leave now." The backs of my legs touched the sofa.
"SIT!" he yelled, forcefully, and I immediately did so, my ankles together, my hands folded on my knees. Prim, proper and scared to death. And I thought: if he asks me to suck him, I'll do it. Oh, why hadn't I called first?
He ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair. I love his hair. It really makes him look distinguished, but at that particular moment, he looked distinguished and worried! He stared at me, started to say something, decided not to, and just stared some more.
Finally, he motioned for me stay. "Don't move," he ordered. "I'll get Brenda on her cell phone. Promise that you'll stay right there!" I could only nod. I didn't trust my voice.
I heard him on the phone in the dining room. For some reason, I couldn't sit still, and I got up and glanced at him through the doorway. He saw me, motioned again to just wait, and walked out the back door with the cordless phone. I moved to the window, the one I couldn't see out of the night before, and there he was in the back yard, talking earnestly into the phone, gesturing emphatically with his free hand as he did so. I couldn't hear a word, but it was evident that he was very upset. Finally, he walked back inside.
He came into the room, and I inadvertently stepped back away from him a few paces. This seemed to shock him more than anything else. He stared, unbelieving, and then just looked sad. I wanted to run to him and kiss him, but I didn't. I just couldn't allow myself to come any further between him and his wife.
"Brenda will be here in a few minutes. She made me promise that I wouldn't let you leave until she had a chance to talk to you." He paused, and again looked as if he wanted to say something meaningful, but decided against it. "Can I get you some tea?" he asked absently.
I shook my head, and he turned and walked solemnly into the kitchen, then eventually back into the yard. I walked around the room like I'd done last night, but I didn't really see any of the titles on the shelves. Then I caught sight of the mirror over the mantle piece. I looked horrid! There were bags under my eyes, my cheeks were slightly sunken, I was pale, and my hair was a complete mess. I hadn't even thought about it that morning. So much for the "beautiful corpse" idea.
I heard a car door slam, but when Brenda didn't come in right away, I correctly surmised that she'd walked around the house, and I went to the window again and saw them. They appeared to be arguing. He was talking earnestly and gesturing emphatically, pointing toward the living room from time to time, pointing right at me, though he wasn't looking. But Brenda turned her head in my direction, saw me, and smiled wanly. I just stared. Fred saw her looking my way, turned and saw me as well, and for awhile I watched, unhearing, as they talked about me as if I were an interesting piece at an auction.
Finally, they were both silent for several seconds, and Brenda turned and walked back inside. For some reason, I quickly returned to the couch and sat down. Brenda entered without a word, walked over and plopped down right next to me, our arms touching. It was cool outside, and we were both wearing sweaters. I heard the plastic vial of eleven pills rattle in my pocket (I'd combined the old with the new), but fortunately, she hadn't noticed. We sat that way in silence for two long minutes.
"So," she said at last, "this is it, huh?" We were both looking down at our respective feet.
"Yes," I said softly.
"I didn't realize it would be so soon."
"I didn't want to tell you. It's been planned for today for some time now, though."
She regarded this for a long moment before speaking again. "Plans don't change?"
"No. You plan, you decide, you follow through. Big decisions are for following through. That's just the way it is."
Another long silence. "Is that your father speaking?"
My turn for silence. I'd never considered that. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more. "It's MY decision," I said softly but emphatically, "for MY reasons. You promised me you wouldn't try to talk me out of this."
"I would have thought that last night might have altered your perception a little."