Between Friends (8 page)

She and Valerie got mad at each other from time to time and would break off their friendship. The incursions never lasted for more than an hour or two. And it was always Valerie who would have to come to apologize.

“We used to have so much fun,” Valerie murmured in reminiscence, absently combing her fingers through her beautiful shoulder-length hair. She stretched out her legs and rested them on a corner of the coffee table. Opposite her, Dallas did the same. Their limbs almost touched, ankle to ankle, and simultaneously they caught each other’s gaze and smiled.

“Do you know, when I was about eight I used to think that when you got older your skin would get lighter, like mine?” Valerie suddenly said.

Dallas nearly gasped as she raised her brows. “For God’s sake, Val … you never told me that before. Why on earth did you think that?”

Valerie shrugged. “I know it sounds stupid, but … I wanted you to be just like me.”

Dallas slowly shook her head, still capable of being amazed at the observations of white folks. Even someone she loved as dearly as Valerie. “Why didn’t you think that as we got older your skin might get darker to match mine?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I always saw you as my sister. I wanted you to look like me.”

“You know,” Dallas began thoughtfully, taking another sip of the wine. “Megan doesn’t have your fair coloring. She’s a beautiful little girl, but she doesn’t look like a Holland. Now how do you explain that?”

Valerie didn’t answer right away. Her expression was a blank, as if she hadn’t considered that other people would have noticed the difference. And then there was a hint of embarrassment.

“Megan looks like Megan,” she murmured evasively. “Maybe she favors the other side of her family.”

Dallas pursed her lips and gently sloshed the wine around in her glass. She knew better than to pry. For close to twelve years Valerie had kept to herself the identity of her daughter’s natural father.

“Does she ever ask about her father?”

Valerie sighed. “All the time, now. It started about a year ago. She suddenly had all these questions I didn’t want to answer.”

“You must have known that someday it would happen.”

“Yeah, sort of.”

“So, what do you tell her?”

Valerie glanced covertly at Dallas and shifted positions. She drew both her legs up onto her chair with her arms closed around her knees. “Just that her father and I had a relationship that was short and didn’t work out.”

“At least you didn’t tell her he was dead.”

Valerie stared at her. “I couldn’t do that. It wasn’t true,” she said softly.

There was a sadness to the admission that Dallas had never heard before. Even after she’d gotten pregnant and had the baby, Valerie had always exhibited a casual acceptance of her situation, as well as being impervious to the inevitable gossip and whispering about what she’d done, and the embarrassment to her family. There had been a total shutdown of any information that would give away the identity of the father.

Dallas nodded, staring into her wineglass. Everyone had secrets. “I used to wonder who Megan’s father is, but only way back at the beginning, when you were first pregnant and she was a little baby. Now it doesn’t seem important.”

“I used to think so, too. I thought she’d just get used to not having a father. Lots of her school friends have divorced parents, or ‘uncles’ that come and go, if you know what I mean. But Megan’s old enough to ask questions.”

“So tell her.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s … too complicated.”

Dallas slowly shook her head. “It’s only going to get worse. I’m telling you. My mother never said anything to me, but I knew there was something different about me even when I was four or five. I could feel it. Then when I came to live with my father, I
still
knew there was something but I could never get any information or answers. I want to know. Megan wants to know. Sooner or later we’ll both find out.”

“Look, there were reasons at the time for not saying anything,” Valerie said. She sat forward in the chair and pointed a finger at Dallas. “Remember that time when you thought you were pregnant?”

Dallas frowned. “You mean with Hayden?”

Valerie shook her head, continuing to look directly at her. “I mean when we were still in high school. We were juniors …”

It suddenly came to Dallas. Of course she remembered. She’d been scared to death, and had cried for two weeks straight when her period was late. Instantly she thought of the circumstances that had precipitated her fright.

“That … wasn’t the same thing,” she tried to argue, but Valerie wouldn’t let her get away with it.

“Okay, so you weren’t pregnant. But you didn’t tell me who the guy was. I wouldn’t even have known if you hadn’t panicked later. One week you’re a virgin and three weeks later you’re hysterical, sure that you were going to have a baby. Do you want to tell me who
he
was?”

“That was almost fifteen years ago, Val. What’s the point?”

“Well, I feel the same way. You were lucky. I got caught and you didn’t,” Val said, feeling vindicated.

“I don’t think I’d refer to Megan Marie as having been caught. You could have had an abortion.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. My father wasn’t thrilled about me getting pregnant, and he didn’t get on me or make a real big fuss. But he would have
killed
me if I’d even thought about an abortion.”

“Are you sorry you had her?”

Valerie sighed and stared thoughtfully across the room. “No … I wouldn’t say I’m really sorry. I just wish things had been different. I wish I’d been a whole lot smarter.”

“How long do you think you can get away with not telling her what she wants to know?” Dallas asked.

“I know, I know …” Valerie said. Suddenly she uncurled herself from the chair and got up. She brushed back her hair. It fell back into place with a gentle bounce against her neck and cheeks. She moved around the small room, picking up stray items belonging to her daughter. “I just need the right time …”

Dallas watched her, knowing Valerie was putting her off. Dallas understood what Megan wanted. Hadn’t she herself been trying for years to piece together her own heritage? She had strange flashbacks, images of white children she used to play with. Another house with other white people she used to know and trust. Before her mother died and she’d come to her father … who was black. Who were they?

“So, tell me about Alex,” Dallas asked, smoothly shifting to another subject.

Valerie chuckled. “I knew you were going to ask me about him. He’s related to the Marcos in some way. I think he’s one of Nick’s cousins. Nick never told me how, but he didn’t seem to like Alex very much. I never knew why. We went out after the service for dessert and coffee.”

Dallas shook her head, bemused. “You go to a funeral and end up with a date.”

Valerie shrugged, “That was two weeks ago,” she glanced at Dallas. “How come you’re so interested?”

Dallas shrugged. “Maybe because of what almost happened between him and Vin Marco.”

“You want to know something? Alex wanted to know about you, too. Asked a lot of questions.”

In the process of drinking more wine, Dallas used the motion to hide her reaction. “Really?”

Valerie looked at Dallas. “What did you think of him?”

Dallas shifted positions, once again in an effort to disguise her response. She now sat with one leg bent beneath her, and half turned to fluff the pillow behind her back. All to avoid looking directly at Valerie.

“There was no time to think much of anything,” she said. “What happened after I left?”

“Alex went to look at Nick laid out,” Valerie admitted quietly. “He sat with Lillian for a long time. Finally, he said good night to her and Vin, and that was that.”

“Except for the coffee afterward,” Dallas probed.

“It was just coffee. Megan had ice cream. She seems to like Alex. We never even talked about Nick and I can tell you this … if Alex starts asking me out, it
won’t
be because of him, either.”

Dallas drained the rest of the wine and leaned forward to set the glass on the coffee table. She wasn’t surprised that Valerie was interested in Alex Marco. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if Alex was interested in Val. But the realization made Dallas oddly defensive. And a little let down.

“Then … he’s not married?”

Valerie stretched, arching her back in sexy abandonment. “I don’t know.” She yawned with indifference, getting up from her chair. “I’ll have to ask him the next time I see him.”

The next time,
Dallas considered.

“Are you going to be okay out on the sofa tonight?”

“Do I have a choice?” Dallas asked, getting up and taking the hint from Val. “I always sleep here.”

“That sofa is so old … I don’t know how comfortable it is.”

“I’ll be okay. Does this mean you’re not going to tell me any more about Alex?”

Valerie shook her head. “It means there’s nothing more to tell, and I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

“We used to talk until three in the morning and not worry about it.”

“Yeah, well … that’s when we were young and didn’t have to worry about jobs, kids, or hangovers.”

“Speak for yourself. I only had one glass of wine. I better go say good night to Megan.”

Dallas took the two used wineglasses and left them in the kitchen sink on her way down the hall to Megan’s bedroom. The door was half-open and she knocked softly and waited to make sure her godchild was still awake before entering.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

It always surprised Dallas that Megan’s room was so neat and orderly. Unlike her tendency to leave things about other parts of the house, her bedroom, while filled with the necessary accoutrements of any adolescent girl, had a place for everything. Most of the room was taken up with a twin-size canopy bed, draped with an eyelet lace awning that matched the mattress skirting and window curtains. There was a small desk and chair, a red-enameled trunk Dallas knew to be filled with games and unused toys, but the top of which provided another place to sit with two toss pillows for cushions. There was a bulletin board on one wall hung with necklaces, and ribbons won for spelling bees, school track meets, a science fair, and perfect attendance the year before.

Dallas smiled as she briefly glanced around and then approached the bed. Megan was sitting with her knees drawn up so that her thighs provided the perfect surface against which to balance her diary. She closed it, but didn’t attempt to hide it as Dallas sat on the side of the bed. She reached out and tapped the top of the book. She had given it to Megan on her last birthday the previous August.

“I hope you’re not writing terrible things about your mother or me.”

“Uh-uh.” Megan shook her head. “I’m writing about my boyfriend.”

Dallas suppressed her surprise. She smiled in interest and pretended that her godchild had not just said something that struck fear in her heart. “You have a boyfriend? Since when?”

“Well, he’s not
really
my boyfriend. But I like him a lot and I think he likes me. He’s going with one of my friends right now.”

“Ummm,” Dallas murmured, trying to think of something constructive to say, and wondering if Valerie had any idea of Megan’s interest in the opposite sex. “Is he in one of your classes?”

“He’s in the eighth grade.”

Worse than she thought. He was old enough to already have had experience with girls. “What’s his name?”

“Jared. Isn’t that a cool name?”

“Does your mother know?”

Megan grimaced and shrugged. “No. You’re not going to tell her, are you? Please don’t. She’d tell me something like I’m too young, or I shouldn’t be thinking about boys.”

“Megan, you’re not being fair. You know that things we discuss I don’t take back to your mother. But I’m going to tell you the same thing. You are too young.”

“You think I’m going to let some boy have his way with me and then I’ll have a baby, right?”

Her observation was so accurate that Dallas could only stare at Megan Marie in amazement. “It … it can happen,” she finally responded weakly. This was not a conversation she wanted to be having. It was not her place.

“It happened to my mother,” Megan said.

This was stated as a matter of fact. Dallas was a little frightened that she could be so nonchalant about it.

“Your mother was a lot older and could take care of herself. You’re still a child.”

“I know that,” Megan said. “I’m not going to do anything stupid,” she said with an impatient twist of her mouth, as if anyone should know that she knew better.

“You tell me you have a boyfriend, you know about girls getting into trouble, and I’m not supposed to worry? You’re giving me a heart attack even as I sit here, Megan,” she said.

“Well, when did you start dating?”

Fourteen, Dallas remembered. But she had no intention of admitting that.

“I was older than twelve,” she said firmly. “Now kiss me good night and turn out the light.” She began to remove to the nearby desk other items of entertainment that Megan had on the bed with her. A library book, her Walkman. The reassuring presence of two teddy bears.

“Aunt Dallas …” Megan began, slipping the diary under her pillow and sliding down in the bed. “Did my mother tell you about that man she was talking to at the funeral? He had funny gray hair, but he wasn’t old. Alex.”

Dallas didn’t respond right away. Nor did she stop in her unnecessary movements about Megan’s room. She didn’t want the little girl to see she was nervous.

“Your mother introduced him to me. Why do you want to know?”

“I was just wondering if he was going to start dating my mom.”

Dallas felt a tightening of her stomach muscles. She remembered the interest between the two of them. She had felt like an intruder.

“Would that bother you?”

“I don’t know. She’s not going to ask what I think anyway. But the last guy was such a creep. I didn’t like him.”

“What did you think of Alex?”

Megan tilted her head thoughtfully. “He seemed okay. He talked to me and was kind of friendly. I think he’s going to ask her out on a date.”