Sweetie's Diamonds (5 page)

“We don't have MTV,” he said, scanning the available channels.
 

“That's ‘cause we don't have cable yet.
 
I'll get it hooked up this week, I promise.”
 

David flicked off the set.
 
“So do I get to go to the game tomorrow?”

Diane sighed.
 
“Oh, David, let's see where we're at in the morning.
 
What time would you have to leave?”

“It's an afternoon game, so I guess by lunchtime.”

“Well, let's do a little bit tonight and get up early and unpack some more.
 
If we've made a good dent in it by ten o'clock, I'll let you go.”

“Sweet!”

David grabbed a box and ripped the packing tape off, revealing sets of dishes.
 

“Be careful with those,” Diane said.
 
She got up, went into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and made sure the shelf was clean.
 
“Put them in here, all right?”

As he carried a stack into the kitchen, Diane surveyed the place and had to admit that it was a lovely two-bedroom apartment.
 
The complex was brand new and smelled like it.
 
It was nice to move into a sparkling clean home, even though it was drastically smaller than their house.
 
Besides the two bedrooms, there were two bathrooms, a living room with a fireplace, an eat-in kitchen, and a one-car garage.
 
There was a deck in the back with a bar-b-q grill, and a nice expanse of yard that they shared with other tenants.
 
Diane figured that she would save close to a thousand dollars a month in mortgage payments.
 
She had gotten a very good price.
 

David carried the dishes from the box to the kitchen and asked, “Mom, what were my grandparents like?”

Diane sat on the floor to open another box.
 
“David, I've told you all about them.
 
What do you want to know?”

“I don't know,” he said.
 
“I just wish I had known them.
 
Grandpa and grandma Boston are okay, but I just wonder what grandpa and grandma Wilson were like.
 

Wilson
.
 
The name sounded so foreign to Diane.
 
She hadn't used it in such a long time.
 

“Well, you know your grandfather died young.
 
I was just a baby, so to tell you the truth, I didn't know him either.
 
He was thirty-one.”

“He had Marfan syndrome, too?”

“That's what we think.
 
He had a bad heart.
 
He was tall and skinny like you, and he had thick glasses.
 
Back then they didn't really understand the, uhm, condition like they do today.
 
I imagine he probably exerted himself too much one day and just dropped dead.”

David finished with the dishes.
 
“Which box should I do now, Mom?”

She looked around and pointed to the one that contained glasses.
 
“Do that one.
 
The glasses go in the cabinet next to the dishes.”

As he started to work, he asked, “What about grandma Wilson?”

“Well, she was very strict.
 
I guess she had a hard time after my father died.
 
She passed away when I was five.
 
It wasn't much of a family, David.”

“What did you do when she died?
 
Where did you go?”

“I lived with an uncle and aunt in Texas until I… went to college.”
 

David noticed that his mother had become distracted again.
 
She tended to do that whenever she talked about the past.
 
It was almost as if she couldn't remember certain details.
 

“Now where was I?” she asked herself, looking at two open boxes.
 

“I think you were working on the linens,” David answered.

“Right.”
 
She continued to unload towels and walk them into the hallway where the linen closet was located.
 

“I thought you went to Harper College before you married Dad,” David said.

“I did,” Diane replied.
 
“That was later.
 
I went back and got an education degree and my teacher's certificate.
 
The first time I went to college was as a history major.”

“Where did you go?”

“What's with all these questions, David?
 
I'd rather not talk about all this.”

“Sorry.”
 

They worked in silence a while longer until David sat on the sofa, spent.
 

“Had enough?” Diane asked.
 

“I think so,” he said.
 
“I might take a shower.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Diane said.
 
“We can do the rest tomorrow morning, I think.”

After a pause, he asked, “You think you and Dad will ever get back together?”

Diane sat next to him and put her arm around him.
 
“I don't know, honey.
 
I really don't think so.”
 

David nodded resignedly and slipped out from under her arm.
 
He went to another pile of boxes and asked, “Is my PS2 in one of these?”

“Hmmm, maybe.”

He picked up a box and tore off the tape, revealing a collection of old, faded newspaper clippings.
 
The one on top was the
Los Angeles Times
and the headline blared, “GANGLAND MURDERS AT PORNO WAREHOUSE.”
 
He lifted the top clipping and saw another headline, “MISSING ADULT FILM ACTRESSES BELIEVED DEAD.”

“Hey, what are these?” David asked.

Diane wrinkled her brow and stood.
 
She stepped over to him, looked in the box, and gasped.
 
Reacting suddenly, she pulled the box away and closed the flaps.
 

“That's nothing,” she said.
 

“What do you mean?”
 
David was no fool.
 
He could see that his mother had recoiled in horror at his discovery.
 
“What are they?”

“Just some newspapers I forgot I even had.
 
They're personal.
 
In fact I probably should have gotten rid of them a long time ago.
 
Forget about them, I'm throwing them away.
 
They're garbage.”

David looked at her curiously.

“Really,” she said, unconvincingly.
 

He finally shrugged and said, “I'm going to take that shower.”
 
He walked out of the room and headed toward his bedroom.
 

Diane looked at her hand and saw that she was shaking.
 
She really had forgotten that she was in possession of the clippings.
 
They must have been in the crawl space of the house and had been picked up with some of the other boxes down there.
 

She went straight to the kitchen and found one of the three bottles of wine she had brought from the old house.
 
She then rummaged through one of the boxes marked “Kitchen” and eventually found the corkscrew.
 
After opening the bottle, an inexpensive cabernet, she took one of the wineglasses that David had put away, rinsed it out, and poured a nightcap.
 

The wine tasted good and would go a long way toward easing her anxiety.
 
She felt her heart pumping hard and fast, so she moved to the sofa and sat.
 
She closed her eyes and tried to will away the unpleasant memories that were evoked when David had unearthed the newspapers.
 

“Sweetie?
 
What's wrong?
 
You sound—”

“Please…”

“Where are you?”

“…warehouse…”

“My God, what's happened?
 
Sweetie?”

Diane jumped when the phone rang.
 
She picked up the receiver and answered.
 
“Hello?”

“I see your new number works.”
 
It was Greg.
 

“Hi.”

“How'd it go today?”

“All right.
 
We still have a lot to do.”

“Is David there?”

“He's taking a shower and then he's going to bed.
 
We're both exhausted.”

“I can imagine.”

“Look, if you're calling about the game, I guess he can go.
 
But really, Greg, you should have known better than to arrange this on a weekend when we're moving.”

“I know, I'm sorry, it just came up.
 
I had no control over it.”

“Well, just keep it in mind for future reference.”

“Fine.
 
I was
calling
to see how you were doing, not to get a lecture.”

“I'm really tired, Greg, and I have a headache.
 
I don't feel much like nursing your ego.”
 

“Well, fuck you, too, Diane.”

“Hey!”

“No,
hey
, to you,” he said.
 
She could now hear the alcohol in his voice.
 
She eyed the wineglass in her hand and figured,
it takes one to know one
.
 

He tried again.
 
“Look, I called to see if your number worked and to see how it went.
 
Why do you have to be such a bitch?”

“I'm not, Greg.
 
If you had paid a little more attention to David's and my needs, we'd all still be living in the same house.”

“Are we getting into that again, Diane?
 
Come on, it's been over a year.
 
Can't we be friends now?”

“Why should we?”

“Well, we have a
son
together, for one thing.”

“I know, and I promise I can be civil when you're around us.
 
I don't bad-mouth you to him.
 
You're still his father and I respect that.”

“You sure don't sound like it.”

“Greg, you
left
us!
 
You had your fucking mid-life crisis and walked out of the house.
 
You started screwing your secretary and then—”

“I did
not
screw my secretary!”

“Well, whoever it was, I know it was
someone
at Boston Ford!”

He was quiet for a moment.
 
This confirmed her suspicion.
 

“You know, Diane,” he finally said.
 
“You're a real piece of work.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You never gave one-hundred per cent to me.”

“Sure I did.”

“No.
 
You didn't.
 
You held back.
 
I was talking to Steve the other day.
 
You know he and Ann are getting a divorce?”

“I heard that.
 
I'm sorry.”
 
He was referring to a couple that they used to hang around with.
 
Since the divorce, Diane hadn't seen either of them.
 
Greg had remained friends with Steve.