Sad Desk Salad (12 page)

Here’s something Darleen—and her potential constituents—probably doesn’t find so admirable: This video of a young woman who appears to be Rebecca West blowing rails in her underwear (NSFW):

I click off the post to embed the video in the page. I’ve been sure to include enough wiggle language so that we can’t be sued if the girl in the video turns out not to be Becky. I check my e-mail and I see that Darleen West has already responded to me.

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Subject:
Re: Looking for Comment: Video of your daughter Rebecca

I will not dignify this trash with a response. You will be hearing from my lawyers. If you publish this, so help me God, I will ruin you.

I forward this to Moira and cc the lawyer—I’m sure they were already expecting this sort of thing.

MoiraPoira (11:35:29):
Don’t let that bag of Botox intimidate you.

Alex182 (11:36:32):
I won’t.

I want to give Rebecca some time to respond before I write the second half of the post, so I decide to go outside for a minute or two. I chuck off Peter’s boxers and my now-limp T-shirt and pick the eyelet muumuu back off the floor. I give it a good shake and the last grains of sand fly off, landing directly on our already-icky area rug. Good thing it’s made of sisal, so the sand is imperceptible. I give the muumuu a sniff, and the wet-dog scent seems to have faded enough for me to throw it back on again. I grab some flip-flops from my closet and thrust my aviator sunglasses onto my face so I can head out into the bright sunlight.

I walk to the bodega to get my customary sad desk salad, where I ask Manuel for extra beets—it is a special occasion and I deserve a treat. My general reaction to Internet-based confrontation is to cower in a darkened corner. But today I am standing proud, almost morally superior.

In February I posted about a clip of Darleen’s. She hosts a recurring segment on
Headline News
in which she gives advice to parents who are struggling with the misbehavior of their children. This particular segment was with a sweet-faced woman named Pam and her burly husband, Bill. Their son Dylan was hitting the bong instead of the books, and Darleen turned to Pam with an insincere smirk and said, “Maybe if Dylan hadn’t been a latchkey kid in those formative tween years, you wouldn’t be sitting here today.” Pam’s eyes began to well up right before they cut to commercial.

When I was writing the post I pictured my own mom up there, under the hot studio lights, being questioned about the fact that I was often home all by myself as a kid. She and my dad both stayed after school hours to pitch in with extracurriculars when I was in high school (Dad helmed the science club; Mom ran the yearbook). If I had rebelled by doing whippets in the woods rather than reading in my room, would it have been because my mom wasn’t home to open the front door for me every day of her damn life?

Who is Darleen West anyway, to tell people that they’re bad parents? Now that she’s running for office, she has the potential to have even more influence on American women than she already does. Exposing her for the two-faced clown she’s always been is basically a public service. Sure, Rebecca West is getting the short end of the deal here, with her private drug habits about to be blared out into the universe. But the collateral damage is worth it for the larger social point. Isn’t it?

I almost consider calling my mom to ask her what she thinks. She’s cool-headed and wise and I’m feeling pretty emotional right now. But I don’t want her to worry about me, either.

Manuel tells me that my salad is ready.

“Thank you so much,” I say, looking at him for some kind of sign that I’m doing the right thing. He just smiles and hands over the greens.

By the time I settle back in at home, it’s twelve fifteen. Still no word from Rebecca. I keep refreshing Facebook to make sure I’m not missing any response from her. I try to find a phone number for her, but nothing comes up in a public records search. I have to write the second half of the post now so I can send it to Moira and the lawyer for approval before the one
P.M
. deadline.

We are fairly certain it’s Rebecca West in that video for several reasons. One, an anonymous tipster sent us the above video, identifying her. Two, we cross-checked Rebecca’s Facebook photos with the video, and the likeness is striking. Check out this side-by-side screen shot of the video’s heroine and this photo of Rebecca:

I load up the screen shot from the video that’s a close-up of Becky’s face and put it right next to a tight shot I cropped out of her Facebook photo with the robot.

Three, the floral bedspread that appears in the video is identical to the one in this photo, also from Rebecca West’s Facebook profile:

Here’s where I put the screen shot of the Laura Ashley bedspread next to Becky’s dorm room photo.

Finally, we reached out to Darleen and Rebecca West for comment. Darleen would not go on the record about this video, but she did not deny that it was her daughter up in there, snorting a ton of the white stuff. As of press time, Rebecca has not responded to our queries. We will update you if she does.

You might wonder why this is newsworthy, why we are publishing this video of someone who is essentially a private citizen. It’s because Darleen uses her platform as a parenting expert to shame other women. She’s trying to use this message to get into state government, where she can wield even greater influence. She puts herself out there as the perfect mom with the perfect children. We believe in truth in advertising. Darleen West isn’t perfect, and you don’t have to be, either.

I file this to Moira at 12:46, and my heart’s still racing. The entire back of my muumuu is soaked from nervous sweat and my fingers tremble over the keyboard. My salad sits next to me on the old brown couch, untouched and wilting. While I’m waiting for Moira’s response, I keep refreshing Facebook. I continue to toggle back to Rebecca West’s page; I look at that innocent little nose and try to keep my resolve. You’re doing the right thing, I keep repeating to myself. You can’t afford to lose this job. Rebecca is still not writing back, and we’re running out of time.

Moira IMs me at 12:59.

MoiraPoira (12:59:17):
This is brilliant. I looked it over, but as usual your copy is quite clean. The lawyer has seen it and he approves. It’s good to go. Are you ready?

Alex182 (12:59:44):
I was born ready.

I stare at the clock on my computer until it turns to one.

Chapter Seven

I refresh the site until the post goes live. I ended up going with a headline that was nearly identical to the original e-mail that the tipster had sent me: “Rebecca West, Daughter of ‘Genius Mom’ Darleen West: Snorting Coke in Her Skivvies?” The question mark was inserted at legal’s request, just in case the comely cokehead in the video turned out to be a Becky West doppelgänger. I also send the following Facebook message to Becky, letting her know the post is live, so she has a chance to respond after the fact:

http://chickhabit.net/rebecca-west-daughter-of-genius-mom-darleen-west-snorting-coke-in-her-skivvies

Though I had been shaky and sweat-stained before the post went live, now that I can see it sitting there atop the Chick Habit homepage, I am still and dry. In the minute or two after publication, before any page views or comments have registered in the lavender-hued boxes to the right of the post, it’s like the world—or at least the Internet—is suspended. It’s so quiet in the apartment I can hear the soft sigh of my laptop’s hard drive.

And then I refresh the page once more. The commenters are, as usual, out of control:

CrazyBananas42 (1:01:45):
Holy shit, this is awesome! This is the best fuck-you to a mom I have ever seen. I always knew that lady’s genius mom routine was crap. Her perfect girl is sure going to town on that pile of yay!

Fuckerpunch (1:02:56):
Are you kidding? It is so not awesome. I love how Alex ties herself in knots to justify posting this. It’s a violation of Rebecca West’s privacy, pure and simple.

Weathergrrrl (1:04:29):
I fully agree with @Fuckerpunch. Also, like the chickies didn’t do their fare share of blow in college? I bet they wouldn’t be so syched if someone else posted a video of their drug use online without their consent and she’s naked in part of it! This is basically digital rape.

TiptoeTulip (1:06:15):
I had a mother just like Darleen West and I acted out like this in college, too. I spent 8 years in therapy trying to undo the damage she inflicted on me in my teen years. My heart weeps for Rebecca West and I hope she gets the help she so clearly needs.

Libertard (1:07:22):
@Fuckerpunch @Weathergrrrl @TiptoeTulip Pull the sticks out of your asses.

My bitchface training from this morning seems to have paid off. Just a few days ago that “digital rape” comment would have inspired several sniveling IMs to Moira and/or Jane about whether or not I had gone too far. If I had really been having a rough day that comment might have spooked me far into the evening, until Peter came home, when I would be near tears by the time he walked through our midget door. But I can’t ask for Peter’s attention right now; when I think about what he might be keeping from me, it feels like a small, sharp object poking me in the gut.

I refresh the page again. It’s been ten minutes since the post went up and already there are thirty thousand page views.

Prettyinpink86 (1:14:20):
:) That Becky West video is so crazy!!

Alex182 (1:15:02):
Yeah, I know.

Prettyinpink86 (1:15:44):
The traffic is already really high.

Alex182 (1:16:08):
Thanks.

I can’t tell if Molly is genuinely being supportive with that emoticon or if she’s jealous of my stats, and I don’t feel like conversing with her long enough to figure it out. But the enthusiasm of her IMs reminds me to link to all my earlier posts about Darleen West so that I can get additional traffic back to them. There was that clip of her on
Headline News
condescending to poor Dylan’s mom with her weed-brained son (headline: “Darleen West Takes Mother Superior Act to Basic Cable”). Then there was the time she wrote a guest op-ed for the
National Review
about how dangerous day care really is, and how the liberal media has covered up its risks. (“‘Genius Mom’ to Working Moms: Piss Off.”) And finally, when Rebecca’s sister Rachel won a prize at Harvard for a paper she had written on themes of motherhood in Virginia Woolf’s books, I wrote a post called “Darleen West’s Daughter Longs for a Womb of One’s Own.”

MoiraPoira (1:26:35):
My darling girl! Your post got linked to from the homepage of Yahoo 10 minutes ago—you know that guarantees a traffic tsunami.

Alex182 (1:28:11):
Amazing!

MoiraPoira (1:28:44):
I’ve never seen a post get this popular this fast. It’s brilliant! And for the first time in Chick Habit history, I got a call from Tyson Collins.

Alex182 (1:29:42):
The big boss took time from his busy duck-hunting schedule to phone li’l ol’ you?

MoiraPoira (1:30:12):
He sure did. One of his 14 assistants told him that our servers were working on overdrive because of the massive surge. He took a look at the site and saw the post, and he told me, “I never did like that Darleen West. Met her at the Aspen Ideas Festival and she looked like someone who needed a good screw and a good steak.”

Alex182 (1:31:44):
He did NOT say that!

MoiraPoira (1:32:12):
Screw and steak, in that order.

That makes me laugh even though I know Tyson Collins’s desire to restructure his conglomerate might make me a casualty in just a few short weeks. I decide to take advantage of one of Moira’s rare good moods.

Alex182 (1:33:14):
If it’s okay with you I’m gonna take a shower now.

MoiraPoira (1:34:45):
Do it!

I go into our bathroom and toss the musty muumuu onto the tile floor. I turn the water on and stick a hand under the weak stream. That’s the trade-off you make when you live in a brownstone instead of a new apartment—quaint prewar details, but no hot, strong showers. As a result I rarely feel truly clean even after a shower.