Becca (14 page)

“You’ve got to drop the
oh-woe-is-me attitude. You gotta give up on the nobody-likes-me-because-my-mother-is-white-and-my-father-was-black
crap. You’re thinking you’re half-and-half. In the middle—don’t know which way
to go, black or white. You stopped being you.”

“Hey, you sound serious.”

“I
am
serious,
Bertram.”

“Don’t be, I don’t like
that.”

“Then stop sounding so—I don’t
know, so
sorry
for yourself. You are
who
you are, not
what
you
are. You’re
not
black and you’re
not
white. You’re
both.
But
most important, you’re
you.
”

“Holy crap, Becca you
sound like my mom.”

“She’s a smart woman,
then. You feel
lonely
‘cause you don’t know who you are. And that’s
because you’ve never tried to be you.”

“Doctor Becca has
spoken.”

“Pretty good, huh?”

“I feel like I should pay
you for this session.”

She tapped his shoulder
with her finger now, emphasizing her words, “If you would just stop being so
conscious of your outside and think about your inside, you’ll go places.”

“Where? What places?”

“I don’t know. That’s
what people say—there are places we can go but who knows if we actually do—and
you’re right, where
are
those places? Anyway, Greg is the same way. He
has to figure out who he is and then he’ll move on.”

“He’ll go places.”

“Exactly.”

“Wow, Dr. Becca—practicing
psychoanalysis on a nigger and a queer.”

“Will you stop
using
those
words, please?”

“Practicing psychoanalysis?”

She punched his arm and
he winced.

“So,” Bert said, “if you
don’t care about what I look like, why were you so concerned about people
seeing you with me?”

“Yeah…that takes some
explaining, doesn’t it? I thought I mentioned it before. However, let me go
over it again. For one,” she paused and sighed heavily, “I have a so-called
boyfriend, so there’s
that
to deal with other people—you know, trying to
fend off their questions, then the rumors. You heard Barb earlier. She won’t
tell anybody about this, but I can’t vouch for her boyfriend. And there were
people in the Varsity House that will of course spread rumors. See I don’t
care, personally, but the people who
hear
the rumors might
.
Number
two—and I’m not saying this to feed your self-pity or to negate anything I’ve
just said as Doctor Becca—you’re not the same color as about ninety-five
percent of the males in this town and that bothers some people and I’d hate to
have someone try and start something because of their narrow-mindedness. Number
three, my father would disapprove, and number four…well, number four is…well…

“Alexander.”

“Who is he?”

“Josh…I…don’t want to
talk about him right now, but suffice to say, he’s still part of my life.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not going to talk
about him right now.” She shook her head. “I hate to say it, but I have to go
home. My father will want to know why I was out so late. He’ll want to know who
I was with, where I went, and what I did.”

“Why?”

“If you’d hear him tell
it, he’d say I pretty near screwed up my life. I embarrassed my mother and
shamed him. I was the talk of the town for a while. The talk of the school. A
whore, a slut… I could go on, but I think you get the picture.

“So now, even though I’m
an adult, I still endure his craziness. And I will until I’m able to move out.
Hey, you wanna marry me?”

“What?”

She giggled. “I’m joking.
Anyway, I’ve got to go. My leg is killing me, and I need an aspirin—or
something. I want to get up, Bert, but I need your help.”

He stood and reached
down, taking Becca’s offered hand. She winced on standing and used his arm to
steady herself as she put her shoes back on.

“Thank you,” Becca said.

“You’re welcome. I can
walk home, Becca, you don’t have to drop me off.”

“I don’t want to leave
you standing in a field like I’ve had my way with you and now I’ve tossed you
aside.”

Bert walked along side
her, their arms brushing.

In the car, Becca made a
U-turn in the street and drove the short distance to Bert’s house. The light in
the living room was on and Becca opened her door.

“What’re you doing?”

“I can’t just drop you
off.”

“So you’re walking me to
the front door?”

“Yes.”

The front door was open
and the screen door unlocked. They went inside.

“Is that you Bertram?”

“No, it’s me, Becca. I
didn’t bring your son home. I decided you can’t have him back.”

Carol met them with a
sweet grin on her face.

“Have a nice time?”

“Yes,” Becca said,
smiling. “I just came in to say good night.”

“Why, how nice of you.”

“My pleasure, Carol.”

Carol touched Becca’s arm
gently. “You are such a sweet girl.”

“Thank you.” Becca hugged
Carol. “Good night.” She opened the door.

“Yes good night. Bert,
you’re walking her to her car aren’t you?”

“She can find it on her
own.” Bert said with a fake scowl.

Becca giggled.

“Bertram Martin, you’d
better
walk her to her car.”

“If I
have
to.”

“She’s watching,” Becca
said as they went down the walk.

“Of course. She wants to
see what happens next.”

“Whatever does she think
is going to happen next?”

“Who knows?”

At the car, Bert opened
the driver’s door. Becca took his offered hand to help her into the car and she
put the key in the ignition. Bert was about to shut the door, when Becca pushed
herself up out of the seat. She was so quick it startled Bert and he stepped
back, letting go of the door. Becca was against him, her arms going around his
neck, pulling him to her mouth. Her lips, hot, full, and wet crushed against
his. She held him to her with her hand on the back of his head and moved her parted
lips around his mouth. She released him with the stereotypical smack of the
lips. Bert stood still. Stunned to silence.

“That’s for your mom to see,” Becca said
with a giggle. “Thanks for the wonderful time, Josh. Good night.”

IX

“You were out late,” Bill
said when she walked in. He was walking from kitchen, holding a beer in his
hand. His words floated to her on the aroma of the beers he had consumed
previously.

She glanced into the
living room. Her mother sat there. There were telltale signs that others had
been there: cigarettes in ashtrays, glasses.

“I know, sorry.”

“You weren’t with Greg.”

“No.”

“So who were you with?”

“A friend.”

“Not Barbara—she came
here looking for you.”

“No. Another friend.”

“Who, dear?” her mother
asked, coming out into the hall. Her eyes fell to the back of Becca’s dress. “What’s
that on your dress?”

“Grass stains.”

“How did you get that?”
Bill demanded.

“By sitting on the grass.
Mom, my leg really hurts. I need to go lie down.”

“Why were you sitting on
the grass?” Bill asked.

“Because there was no place else to sit.”

X

“That was some kiss,” Carol
said finally, after asking a series of questions regarding her son’s evening
with Becca.

“You
saw
that?” Of
course, she had. Becca knew his mother had been watching him. That’s why she’d
kissed him. There was nothing to it—just to make his mother happy. Yet he still
felt the hot burn of lips on his. Felt her hand on the back of his head. Felt
her body against him and the silkiness of her leg against his fingertips.

“Yes, I did. Oh, she’s
such a nice
girl,
Bert. She’s a darling.” Carol ruffled her son’s hair. She
had not felt this happy for him in a long time, but Becca’s obvious attraction
did not seem to affect him the least. “Are you going to see her again?”

He shrugged.

“Bert, a girl doesn’t
kiss a guy like that if she’s not going to see him again.”

“Really?”

His mother tapped his leg
gently with her finger. “You’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

I

“It’s difficult to say
right now,” Dr. Herbert said. “It may be a cyst.”

“Or maybe it’s something
worse,” Becca said.

“Honey,” Mary said, “you
shouldn’t say that.”

“Rebecca,” Dr. Herbert
said, “I don’t want you to get upset about anything right now. That x-ray will
tell us a lot.”

“When will you have
that?” Becca asked.

“Today, but I’m going to
have my colleague, Doctor London look at it. He’ll call you with the results.”

“Why him?”

“He’s an oncologist.”

“A what-a-gist?”

“Oncologist.” Dr. Herbert
flicked his eyes from Becca to her mother and back. “A cancer specialist.”

“I’ve got
cancer!?”

“No, I’m not saying that,
Rebecca. I just want his opinion. He’ll call you and let you know what he
thinks.”

“But if it’s a cyst then
it’s not cancer, right?”

“Yes. Do you want
something for the pain?”

“No, it’s manageable…it
only flairs up now and then.”

“Mainly after
activity—walking or dancing?”

“Yes. Is that serious?”

“No, not necessarily.”

“But it could be.”

“Yes. Dr. London will
want to take a biopsy to properly diagnose this.”

“Oh, my,” Mary said, her
face falling into worry.

“I would also like to do
some blood work and urine tests.”

“What will they do?”

“Give us a broader
picture of your general health.”

“I’m healthy. It’s my leg
that’s screwed up.”

“You can come back here
tomorrow for the tests. I’d like you to fast for twelve hours.”

“I don’t want to do that.
I just want to know what’s in my leg.”

“Honey,” Mary said,
touching her daughter’s arm, “please.”

“Mom, I don’t want to pee
in a cup or have somebody take my blood if it doesn’t matter. I want to know
what’s wrong with my leg and if peeing and blood-letting aren’t going to tell
us that, then why should I do it?”

“Okay,” Dr. Herbert said
patting Becca’s shoulder. “I understand. Let’s not worry about other tests
right now.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Becca said.

II

“I just got back from the
doctor’s,” Becca said on the phone.

“What did he say?” Bert
asked.

“He said I had wonderful
legs. He really got distracted.”

“Yes. Okay. What did he
say?”

“Well after he finished
gawking at them and everything he said that I had a lump in my right thigh.”

“He’s a doctor?”

“Yeah, imagine. Spent all
that money and all that time in college to tell me something I already knew.”

“Did he say what kind of
lump it was?”

“I’ll know tomorrow. Some
other doctor is going to look at the x-ray. So did your mother say anything?”

“Yes, she was quite
impressed with that kiss.”

“Good. I’m proud of it
myself. What did you think of it?”

“A kiss is a kiss.”

“Really? So that was
nothing special?”

“It surprised me, yes,
but as far as being special—well, the verdict’s out on that.”

“So you’ve been kissed
before?”

“Sure.”

“Liar.”

“Swear.”

“Like that?”

“Yes.”

“
Liar,
Josh.
Stop
it.”

“Okay. To tell you the
truth that was probably the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“I’d bet it’s the
only
kiss you’ve ever had.”

“Ouch.”

“I put a lot of work into
it. I’ll say you’re welcome for the thank you that you were about to say. And
don’t think that just because it happened once, it’s going to happen again. I
only did that because your mother was watching and I saw how she looked at us.”

“How did she look at us?”

“She likes us.”

“Well, I’m her son. She
should
like me.”

“No, I mean as a couple.”

“We’re a couple?”

“No, I’m saying she
likes
us as a
couple
. She wishes we
were
a couple. It would make
her very happy.”

“She’s only happy because
I have a girl friend.”

“Oh, wait, I’m your
girlfriend
?”

“No, I didn’t mean
girlfriend. I meant girl
space
friend
.
You know, like
you and Greg. He’s your boy space friend. Which gives me an idea.”

“And that being?”

“You should kiss him like
that.”

“Why?”

“I might turn him on to
women.”

Becca laughed, and then
said, “You should have seen the look on your face.”

Becca’s smile came
through in her voice. “Well, I was stunned.”

“I thought you were going
to faint.”

“My legs were about to
buckle. If you hadn’t stopped, I would have been on the ground.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t
wasted. Hey, I have to go now, okay? I’ll talk to you soon.”

She hung up.

III

“I’m afraid to open it,”
Carol said, handing Bert an envelope when he got off the phone with Becca.

It was official mail from
US Government, The Selective Service System. He knew what it would say.

“From the President of
the United States,” Bert read aloud. “Greeting: you are hereby ordered for
induction into the Armed Forces of the United States.” He stopped reading.

“No,” Carol said with
tears in her eyes. “I don’t want you to go to war.”

“This doesn’t mean I’ll
go to war, Mom.” Although he had expected to get the letter, now that he held
it in his hands, he felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach.

Bert read the form. Bring
enough money to last 30 days, bring enough clothes for three days; bring his
social security card, life insurance policy information, birth certificate, and
any documentation that showed why he may claim exemption from the draft.

He called Sergeant James.

“I said this was going to
happen, didn’t I? The only way to beat this is to enlist before you report for
induction,” Sergeant James said to Bert. “You report for induction, you have a
two year commitment but with no guaranteed training. I can get you a guaranteed
school.”

“But you’re asking me to
enlist for three years,” Bert said.

“Or let the draft get you
for two years and go to Vietnam.”

“But I can still go to
Vietnam if I enlist.”

“It’s a crap shoot,
Bertram. However, we need to act on this right away to see what options you’ll
have. We might give you more time at home also if you enlist. Your basic
training date is based on your advanced training date.”

“I’ll come in on
Wednesday,” Bert said. He had to have a day to think about this. He could not
jump into a decision right now.

Bert thought of Becca. “Goddammit,” he
said.

IV

“Who is this guy you were
with?” Greg asked Becca Monday evening.

“A friend.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“Why does it matter?”

“People
saw
you,
Becca. You were dancing with this guy.”

“So? We had an agreement,
Greg. I said I wanted to see somebody else.”

“But…people are going to
see you with him. What are they going to think?”

She shrugged. “That I’m
not with you.”

“I’d rather you don’t see
anybody right now.”

“Why?”

“Well, your father one.
And…mine. It’s going to cause some problems.”

“I already have problems,
Greg. My father doesn’t care much for me, so I’ve decided it’s okay to piss him
off.”

“Your dad has a bad
temper.”

She nodded. “I don’t
really care what other people think—I don’t care what
he
thinks, either,
except…well, he gets too
angry.
”

“I know he’s…he’s hurt
you before.”

She looked at him
sharply. “Really? You
knew?
You didn’t say anything”

“What could I say? You…”
He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry.”

“But is it our fathers
that’s got you worried or is it that I’m seeing Josh?”

“That guy’s…well…he’s,
you know.”

“No, what is he? A guy with
thick, curly hair, hazel eyes kind of guy?”

“He’s half nig—”

She put her finger on his
lips. “Don’t you
dare
say that word, Greg.”

Greg removed her finger
from his mouth. “Well, he
is
half nigger.”

She gave him a withering
look. “Nigger? And you’re a
queer.”

He shrank from that word
and looked around. “Hey, not so loud. Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call Josh names
then.”

“Do you know what people
will think when they see you with him?”

“Yes, I can see where you
might be worried about. A white girl leaves a white guy for a black guy it’s
only for one reason. He’s got a bigger—” She leaned forward in the booth,
looking him in the eyes. “He’s
half
black, Greg so maybe you don’t have
anything to worry about that.”

“Stop it. Becca, people
are bugging me about this. You were parking with him. Yes, I heard about that
too.”

“We weren’t parking. I
mean, we weren’t…
doing
anything.”

“Then why did you go
parking with him?”

“I really don’t know. I
mean…” she shrugged. “I guess I wanted to see what he’d do. He did nothing. Maybe
he
would
have, maybe
I
would have. But we didn’t. Greg I’m not
wrong to want to be with the kind of people I want to be with. You want to be
with the kind of people
you
want to be with, so no more criticism okay? I’m
not asking you a million questions. Don’t bug me about the guy I want to spend
time with and I won’t bug you about the guys
you
want to spend time with.

“You’ll be leaving for
UCLA and where does that leave me? Sitting at home waiting to see who the next
guy is my father wants me to date?” She shook her head. “Nope, doesn’t work
that way. I want to be with the person
I
want to be with, and if causes
problems at home, well, I’ll deal with it.”

“Can I ask you
something?”

“Of course.”

“If I was…if I
wasn’t
gay,
could we have stayed together?”

“I honestly don’t know,
Greg. I…I like you a lot, perhaps would have fallen in love with you, but even
if we had been
a normal
couple, I still would have met Josh and…who
knows?

“You have been very good to me, Greg. And
I wish you weren’t going to California…I wish you could stay here and be my
friend, but we both know we can never stay like this.”

V

“It has the appearance of
what we call an osteosarcoma,” Doctor London said the next afternoon.

Becca looked down at her
leg, her hand going to the tender area. Then she stared at the x-ray picture. “Sarcoma—doesn’t
that mean cancer?”

“Why, yes, it does.”

“So you’re telling me
that I have bone cancer.”

“Without a biopsy we
won’t know for sure. But looking at the film here, you can see how irregular
the mass looks. A benign tumor normally has smooth borders on the image.”

“Normally,” Becca said.

“Yes. It could be benign.
It’s my experience with a picture like this that it is not. I’m sorry.”

“Dammit,” Becca swore
under her breath.

“I would like to do the
biopsy as soon as possible, Rebecca.”

“When?” Mary asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon. I
would like her to be admitted tomorrow.”

“Why do I have to be
admitted?” Becca asked.

“As a precaution.”

“Against?”

The doctor patted her
shoulder. “Don’t worry, young lady, it’s routine.”

“Will you cut my leg
off?”

“It’s too early to talk
about treatment. Let’s wait and see what we have.”

“
You
don’t have
anything,” Becca said. “It’s not
we. I’m
the one with the cancer.”

“Becky,” Bill said
through pursed lips.

“That’s okay,” Dr. London
said. “Rebecca, even if it
is
cancer. We don’t necessarily have to take
your leg off. My goodness, we may not even have to operate. There are other
treatments available, depending on our prognosis.”