Pushing Upward (22 page)

Still glowing, Emma listened attentively and said she noticed something quite different about my behavior. She said it was a pleasure not to hear me complain. I nodded, and thought:
I must be pushing upward.

Chapter 19

Bites on dried gristly meat.
Receives metal arrows.
It furthers one to be mindful of difficulties …

The next morning I sat up in bed wondering what to do. The memory of the rape kept looping over and over in my brain: the details of that night, the fact that I hadn't remembered it, the
invasion
of my privacy, and my brother's betrayal. I needed to tell someone, get the weight off my heart, but who? I couldn't tell Emma, not yet anyway. And it was too early to call Rachel.

Michigan! It was two hours later there. Someone would be home.

I jumped out of bed, threw on my coat over my pajamas, laced up my gym shoes, and tiptoed past Emma's door. As the images of the memory continued to well up, I jogged to the nearest pay phone on Sunset.

The phone kept ringing. Finally, someone picked up.

“Hello.” It was my mother.

“Mom, it's Sandra. I have to tell you something. Remember those nightmares I used to have? The ones with the scary shadows and … well, the whole thing came back to me in living color. The shadows were of Steven and his friend Lenny. Lenny raped me, Mom … and Steven set it up. It all came back.”

“What? What are you talking about? Are you insane?”

“I know it's hard to believe. But that was what those dreams were about. Lenny got on top of me and he stuck his … but Steven was right there. He put him up to it. Steven was right outside the door, and—”

“What the hell are you trying to do, kill me? Because that's what you're doing!”

“It really happened, Mom. I saw the whole thing, clear as day. You have to believe me.”

“You are a liar, Sandra Billings. All adolescents explore. But
you
have to take it to the extreme, don't you? You have to be the drama queen, don't you? Enough!”

“Mom, this was not something I made up! It was real.”

“Well, deal with it! Just don't involve us with this … this filth. And, do us a favor. Forget about coming home. You're not welcome here.”

She hung up.

I could hardly breathe. I sat there in the phone booth, numb, my hand still on the receiver. I wasn't surprised she didn't believe me. She'd responded true to style. Well … the hell with her.
I don't have a home. Home is where they believe you.

I got up, hung up the phone, and opened the door. I had to walk. I needed to move, pull myself together. With no destination in mind, I started down Sunset. As the cars and trucks streamed by, and a light drizzle misted the air, I knew she wouldn't believe me. Who was I kidding? Did I really think she'd sympathize with me? She never had before. I kept walking and tried to unearth details about the event.

Steven knew exactly what was going to happen behind that door. And I knew why he'd done it. Steven hated me from the day I was born. He hated the fact that Daddy gave me more love and attention than he gave him. He was jealous that I had so many friends, that I was popular. He always wanted to shut me down, turn out my light. He never liked me to shine. He'd been tormenting me my whole life—but he'd been biding his time for his ultimate revenge. What an ass! But why Lenny? Because he was the only friend Steven had, and he knew I had a crush on him.

I was into a full sprint now, racing past supermarkets and clothing stores, flower shops and gas stations. The light rain kept on. I scanned over all the times my brother had sabotaged my efforts, humiliated me in front of my friends, and terrorized me. All the times I'd tried to ignore him, and wanted to kill him. All the times I had to hide my light—for fear it would be taken away.

I passed Monroe's Funeral Home, slowed my pace, and stopped. Looking into the window at my own reflection, I realized Steven and I had never, ever looked at each other with love … not once that I could remember—ever. Rachel would have said, “Past-life karma.” And she might have been right.

A distant church bell struck nine. I had to see if Rachel was still here or if she'd left for South America again. I jogged back to the pay phone.
Please be there. Please be there.

It rang three times before she picked up.

“Hello?”

“Rache! Thank God! I have to talk to you. Something very amazing just happened.”

There was a lot of noise in the background.

“Sandra?”

“Yes, it's me. Can we talk?”

“It's crazy here. I can hardly hear you.”

“I
have
to talk to you.”

“Armando's sisters are here helping us with the wedding. They just flew in from San Francisco. We're getting ready to leave for Buenos Aires tomorrow.”

“There's no way we can meet?”

“I'm so sorry, Sandra. I wish I could, but I just can't.”

Tears welled up. I took a deep breath … I needed to say something … so I told her about Jerry and the audition instead. “An audition, can you believe it?” I wiped the tears away. “I think this is going to be a big deal.”

“It sounds great, Sandra. I just don't want you to get your hopes up and—”

“Hey, Rachel!” I interrupted, mad at her for doubting me. “It's a sure thing. You should have heard this guy, Jerry. He was serious about calling the director and setting up the audition.”

“Just stay in the moment. Don't jump ahead of yourself … look, I promise I'll call you as soon as I get back. And good luck with the audition.”

I wished her luck with the wedding, placed the receiver on the cradle, and stood there in the small, narrow booth.

Now what?

Bella used to say, “God doesn't give us anything we can't handle.”

It was the first time I questioned her words.

Chapter 20

The eclipse reaches totality …
even the small stars can be seen at noon.

Rummaging through old bags I hadn't unpacked since I moved in, I found the dress I'd been looking for. The one I'd bought at a ­second-hand vintage store on Melrose, near the Bodhi Tree bookstore. The dress reminded me of a Russian neighbor I knew from Michigan, which was the reason I bought it in the first place. Maybe it was the dark brown plush-smooth velvet that reminded me of her deep hazel eyes, and the pale orange stitching that reminded me of the delicate lines that formed on her skin when she smiled. The soft collar brought to mind her gentleness. The dress was big on me now, but it worked as a dress from Russia, with a belt. I took it off, shook out the mustiness, and laid it neatly on the bed.

A shower was next. As the water poured over my head, I knew I had to focus on the audition, not the memory of the nightmare. I forced myself to think about the characters in the play. Jerry didn't tell me much—other than that the production was called
The Turning of the Century,
and consisted of two one-act plays by Clifford Thorne. One of the characters I was to audition for was a young Russian actress, the other a medical student. In both cases, these women were going to be clean, really clean. Standing in the steam, the pellets stinging my skin, I imagined how their personalities could be different from one another. How one could have a stutter, or never look anyone in the eye, to convey shyness. The other could be ballsy, crass, to suggest the extreme. Of course, until I'd read some of the dialogue, I couldn't draw any conclusions. But I wanted to think of some options before seeing the script.

I tried not to think about how nervous I was. Yet as I massaged the shampoo suds into my scalp, I understood that fear has a mind of its own … and was something I still couldn't control. So I did my best to let it go—for the moment.

Hair toweled and blow-dried, makeup in place, I nervously slipped the dress on and secured the belt. I returned to the bedroom and sat down. For precautionary measures only, I brought out the
I Ching,
the pouch of coins, and the yellow pad. The question was:

The audition?

42. I / Increase

Above: Sun, The Gentle Wind
Below: Chên, The Arousing, Thunder

A time of blessing and enrichment has such powerful effects that even events ordinarily unfortunate must turn out to the advantage of those affected by them. These persons become free of error, and by acting in harmony with truth they gain such inner authority that they exert influence as if sanctioned by letter and seal …

The superior man sets his person at rest before he moves; he composes his mind before he speaks; he makes his relations firm before he asks for something. By attending to these three matters, the superior man gains complete security.

All righty! I had my marching orders.

On my way out through the living room, I thought about what I'd say to Emma. She knew I had an audition, but I hadn't given her any details. I didn't want to set up any expectations for her, any more than I had for myself. So, as she sat reading the
New York Times,
I tiptoed toward the door. Without looking at her, I could hear the rustle of the paper, and her lowering it to her breast. I glanced over to her, smiled, and waved good-bye.

“I'm going on an audition.” That was all I said.

The Windmill Theater was located on the corner of Sunset and Highland, hidden from view behind the solid trunks of majestic palm trees and densely grown shrubbery. You had to turn the corner and look closely for the sign, now overgrown by vines, before you could even see the marquee—T
HE
W
INDMILL
T
HEATER
P
RESENTS
—and the name of the show. Two years ago I'd seen a play here and thought how deceptively small the theater looked from the outside. Once inside, though, I was surprised to see the size of the auditorium. Seating capacity was 200, quite considerable for a Los Angeles playhouse.

I walked in and the feeling of being home came over me instantly. The feeling of being safe and protected surrounded my bones, and the tension I'd held so tightly on the way there dropped away. I always felt this kind of peace, whenever I walked into a theater. I inhaled the electricity moving through the halls and felt instantly rejuvenated by the currents of expectation, of magic. It was a sign for sure.