Sweetie's Diamonds (8 page)

The ball shot awkwardly into the trees on the left.

“Well, shit,” he muttered.

“Seriously, what's up?” Spencer asked again.

“Nothing really.
 
She and David moved out of the house yesterday.
 
They're in an apartment now.”

“You knew that was going to happen.”

“I know, but it's depressing.
 
That was a nice house.”

The two men began to walk down the fairway carrying their clubs.
 

“You didn't expect to move back in, did you?” Spencer asked.

“No.”

“So what's the problem?”

“It's just… oh, never mind.”

They walked a good hundred yards before Greg said, “Mine's over
there
.”
 
He pointed to the left and veered away from Spencer.
 
He looked at his watch and saw that he had a couple of hours left before he had to pick up David for the ballgame.
 
He and Spencer had agreed to play only nine holes that morning.
 

The divorce still irked him.
 
It had been his idea, it was true, but he never would have done it if Diane had been more forthcoming.
 
After living alone again for a few months, Greg began to realize things that he hadn't fully comprehended when he and Diane were courting and eventually man and wife.
 

Diane was one mysterious woman.
 
He never knew any of her family members, and the story was that they were all dead.
 
He wasn't totally sure where she was from.
 
She said she was born and raised in Illinois, but she had some relatives at one time in Texas, too.
 
Diane said she had lived with an aunt and uncle down there after her mother died.
 

There were gaps in her history that he didn't understand.
 
There was a period in the late 70s and early 80s that he couldn't account for.
 
She didn't go to college until the mid-80s, after she was in her thirties.
 
What did she do before then?
 
Where was she during her twenties?

Once Greg had attempted to draw her out but she was evasive and quick to change the subject.
 
Eventually he let it go and tried to enjoy the marriage as it was.
 
But other things gnawed at him.

He noticed that she disappeared after school every now and then.
 
She would be gone for several hours and return to Lincoln Grove in the evening.
 
When he asked where she had been, Diane would reply that she had gone shopping.
 
But she never bought anything.
 

Greg followed her one afternoon, a couple of years before the divorce.
 
She drove to Chicago and got off the expressway before reaching the Loop.
 
The traffic was heavier there and he lost her, so he never did find out where she went.
 
That evening, he asked about her day and she never mentioned driving downtown.
 
It was as if she were keeping something from him.
 
A few days later he asked her directly about where she had gone and admitted that he followed her.
 
She jumped all over him for doing so.

“I'm entitled to my privacy,” she said.
 

Greg finally decided that she was
too
private.
 
The final straw was her lack of enthusiasm for sex.
 
He filed for divorce.
 

He and Spencer met up at the hole.
 
Spencer was shooting for par and smoothly knocked his ball into the cup.
 
Greg lined up his putter, took aim, and tapped the ball.
 
It swerved around the hole and came to rest three inches away.

“Shit,” he muttered again.
 

“This isn't your day,” Spencer said.

“Tell me about it.”

“It's really bugging you, isn't it?”

“What?”

“Diane.
 
The house.”

“Yeah.
 
Mostly I want to get David away from her.
 
She's bad for him.”

“How so?”

“She's not a very loving person.”

This time he knocked it into the cup.
 
The men retrieved their balls and walked toward the next tee.
 

“Maybe not to you, she wasn't,” Spencer said.
 
“From what I can see, she's just fine with David.”

“Geez, whose side are you on?”

“Come on, Greg.
 
She's a good mother and she has a respectable job and she's well-liked at school.”

“I want custody of David.”

Spencer shook his head.
 
“You'll never win.
 
We've been through this before.
 
Courts always favor the mother in custody cases.
 
There's nothing that would suggest Diane's an unfit mother, which is something we'd have to prove.
 
You can't win a custody battle, Greg.”

“She's so closed up,” Greg said.
 
“She has secrets and I get the feeling that they're not pretty.”

“It's not a crime to have secrets.”

“What if the secrets
were
crimes?”

Spencer looked sideways at Greg.
 
“Come on.
 
Diane?”

“I don't know,” Greg said.
 
“It's something that she doesn't talk about.
 
It must be bad.”

“Maybe it's just painful for her.
 
Maybe it has something to do with an old lover or a family member or something.
 
Who knows?
 
Greg, it doesn't matter.
 
Forget it.”

“It does matter.
 
I want David, and I'll think of something.
 
Promise me that if I find out anything useful, we'll file for custody.”

“It's your wallet, Greg,” Spencer said as they reached the tee.
 
“But I reserve the right to refuse the case if I think it's a no-winner.”

“Fine.”

“You go ahead,” Spencer said, indicating the tee.

Greg placed the ball and repeated the ritual of choosing a club, getting comfortable in front of the ball, and concentrating.

This time the ball went straight down the fairway a good three hundred yards.

A
shiver ran up David's spine when the school bell rang at 2:45.
 
It was time to face what some idiot had coined “the music.”

David glanced across the room at his friend Billy as he gathered his books and stuffed them inside his backpack.
 
Billy gave him a look that indicated, “I'm glad I'm not in your shoes.”

The teacher, Mrs. Brownlove, shouted above the clamor, “Don't forget to do the study questions at the end of chapter seventeen!”

The students poured out of the room, but David remained in his seat.
 
Billy made his way for the door and asked, “You coming?”

David sighed.
 
It was no use trying to hide.
 
“I guess.”
 
He got up and joined his friend.
 

“Have a good day, boys,” Mrs. Brownlove said, oblivious to the drama that was unfolding before her.
 

“Bye,” the boys replied in unison.
 

Billy peeked into the hallway and looked both directions.
 
“All clear so far,” he said.
 
David followed him out and went down the hall, straight to his locker.
 

They heard Matt's voice before he had turned the corner.
 

“It's clobberin' time!”

“Oh, great,” David mumbled.
 
He shut his locker and walked in the opposite direction from where the voice had come.
 

“If we hurry maybe we can make it out the side door before he catches up to us,” Billy suggested.

“Hey, Boston!”
 

It was too late but they kept walking anyway.

“Hey, Boston, I'm talking to you!”

David winced and stopped.
 
He turned around to face his number one enemy.

Matt Shamrock was the school's biggest and meanest bully.
 
For some reason, he had it in for David Boston since the beginning of the school year.
 
Matt apparently didn't like the fact that David made good grades and it really irked him that David didn't have to take gym.
 
On the second day of school, Matt had asked him, “Hey, pussy, why aren't you in gym?”

David had replied, “Doctor's excuse.”

“What's the matter, afraid you'll get hurt?”

“No, it's a heart thing.”

“A heart thing?
 
What's that supposed to mean?”

David had tried to walk away but Matt kept at it.
 
“Hey, I'm talking to you.
 
Don't walk away from me.”
 
He whirled David around to face him.
 
“What's the matter with your heart?”

“I have a congenital disease,” David replied.

“You have a genital disease?
 
Hey, everyone, this kid's got VD!” Matt shouted to the others.

“Congenital,” David said.
 
“It means I was born with it, you idiot.”

Matt's goofy grin disappeared.
 
“What did you say?”

“Never mind.
 
I gotta go.”

“Fuck you, you ain't going anywhere.”

Luckily for David, the Vice-Principal came around the corner at that moment and Matt Shamrock changed his tune.
 

“Hey, we'll see you in gym, buddy,” Matt said, slapping David on the back with slightly too much force.

Ever since that fateful encounter, Matt Shamrock had looked for every opportunity to make David's life at school a miserable hell.
 
The bully especially liked to cross paths with David on the way out of the building at the end of the day.
 
Now that David had moved to the new apartment, David lived close enough to walk back and forth, which he was happy to do.
 
As long as he didn't run and exert himself too much, the walking was good for him.
 
Matt Shamrock hadn't learned David's route yet but it was only a matter of time before he would appear to taunt him.
   

Earlier, at lunch, David and Billy had been in line to buy a dessert.
 
Matt Shamrock and his goon squad cut in front of them.
 
David spoke up.
 

“You're not supposed to cut in line, Shamrock,” he said.

Matt turned and looked at David as if the tall, skinny boy were some kind of bug.
 
In actuality, David was taller than Shamrock, but the bully was beefier and certainly stronger.
 

“Why don't you shut the fuck up?” he said.

“You're a real asshole, Shamrock,” David said to himself.
 

Matt's eyes grew big and his three pals gasped.
 

“You gonna let him get away with that, Shamrock?” the one named Carl asked.
 

“What did you say, butt face?” Matt asked.