Say You're Sorry (18 page)

Oh, what sweetness, what joy as, later that same evening, just as Rob, spent from love-making, sleepily pulled up the sheets, she whispered into his ear, “Guess what?”

And wasn’t it terrific that they’d been so discreet, that no one at the university knew that they were lovers? Now Rob’s application for the position could be tendered like any other candidate’s.

Any other, except, of course, that he had the advantage of being a known quantity. Well-liked by both students and faculty, Rob had done a terrific job with his classes. Yes, Rob definitely had the edge.

“Darlin’, you genius, you Wonder Woman!” He’d jumped out of bed and danced his happy dance. Then he’d grabbed Diana up and two-stepped her around the room.

He was a shoo-in, Diana exulted. He’d win the post, and then, and then… Well, after a semester or so it wouldn’t be so untoward, would it, if they were to “begin” dating? No, the age difference between them would never lessen, but with the change in Rob’s status, their having a liaison—and, well, who knew where that might lead?—wouldn’t be nearly so scandalous.

*

“When’s he going to tell her?” Chloe asked.

“Not for a while yet. The timing’s got to be right.”

Hmmm, thought Diana. Amber’s boyfriend already had another girl.

The church lady was shaking her head again.

From somewhere beyond the Mississippi, thunder rumbled, and the church lady rolled her eyes.

See? Lord don’t like that nonsense. That fooling around with somebody else’s man? You go doin’ that stuff, ain’t nobody gonna want you.

Oh, please. Diana read the church lady’s body language. It’s not
that
serious. Amber’s young, and men really are like streetcars. There’s always another one.

*

The stumbling block to Diana’s plan was the presence of those sworn enemies, Gloria and Phil, on the hiring committee. They—dammit—and Diana were the three designees from the English department, and while Phil gave Rob highest marks, Gloria was busy with equivocations.

Just to spite Phil.

The other five members, from various departments and branches of administration, were poised to approve Rob and get on with it. End of term and summer vacation were within sniffing distance. Everybody was antsy.

“I really think she has stronger qualifications,” said Gloria, tapping the application folder of a young blond thing from California. Yes, she’d interviewed beautifully, this smart cookie with the body of a Victoria’s Secret model.

“But her concentration is feminist theory. We don’t need another one of those,” said Phil.

“Now, wait a minute!” steamed Gloria, who was herself a feminist theorist.

Diana shook her head. What the hell was Gloria thinking? Did she really want a younger woman, particularly someone who looked like
that
, in her sandbox?

“Well,” said the dean, trying not to drool on the blonde’s app. “I have to agree, she is an attractive candidate.”

Diana was beside herself. She couldn’t support Rob too strongly for fear of arousing suspicion, though maybe that was just paranoia. Yet both Phil and Gloria would rather die than give an inch to the other.

“Well, what about Dawn Moriyama?” ventured another committee member.

Jesus. The Japanese-American candidate, a distant third on paper, and she’d stumbled badly in the interview. But once they got into ethnic-diversity territory, Diana’s ship would have sailed.

Phil looked at Gloria. Gloria looked at Phil. They both shrugged. Why not?

With that, Diana stood, collecting her papers. “We should sleep on this,” she insisted, slapping down her department chair’s prerogative like a trump card. “I think we’ve lost our way.”

Everyone groaned but agreed to one more meeting.

*

“He has so much to lose, if he doesn’t play it right,” said Amber.

The church lady shook her head so hard Diana thought she might cross the aisle, grab Amber, and shake her, too.

Now it sounded as if Amber were involved with a married man. A beautiful young thing like her, a whole world of gorgeous young single boys to choose from?

“You think she’s the vengeful type?” Chloe wondered.

She.

The wife.

*

“Do you think it’s possible,” Diana had said to Gloria, taking her arm as they crossed the quad after the committee meeting, “that your attitude toward Phil is clouding your judgment? Just a tad?”

Gloria had stiffened, pulled her arm free, and turned to Diana with a blank stare. “No,” she said flatly. “I don’t.”

“Now, Gloria…”

“Don’t you
Now, Gloria
me. I just don’t happen to think Rob is the best candidate.”

“You know Moriyama’s not going to make the cut. Do you really want that young hottie lusting after your classes?”

Gloria recoiled, then struck. “Don’t talk to me about young hotties, Diana. Not when you’re throwing all your weight behind your own.”

Just like that. Gut-shot, Diana reeled. Her skin stung with a thousand pricks of adrenaline. Her world tilted, whirled.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she finally managed.

“I think you do,” said Gloria with a wintry smile. “Just so you know, I’ve not discussed your…indiscretion…with anyone else.”

So clever, Gloria, hoarding her intelligence like gold until it would bring the greatest yield.

“I’ll give you Rob. You’ll give me the classes I want in perpetuity. And the editorship of the journal.”

“Gloria, even if there were reason to…“

Gloria’s smile was cruel. She had the goods, and she knew it.

“I can’t guarantee…”

“I’m sure you’ll work it out.” With that, Gloria gave Diana her back and strode away. Then she paused, turned. “Pleasure grows ever more expensive, don’t you know, Diana, as time moves along.”

*

Blackmail. That’s what it was. Blackmail, plain and simple. After she picked up her car should she drive to the NOPD district office on Magazine and report Gloria? Or did blackmail fall under Vice, housed on South Broad?

Right. Diana could just hear herself explaining the situation to a cop up to his ears in murder, home invasion, tourist muggings, drugs, child abuse, and the thousand and one other felonies perpetrated in New Orleans every day. The city was a sewer of crime.

No. Gloria had her. There were no two ways around it. Diana had been furious and sick with disbelief.

Though now that she’d this streetcar ride to collect herself a bit, to reflect, and to taste once more through the mouth of memory the many pleasures of her sweetheart, she’d realized her id would allow no other choice: If this were the price of keeping Rob, so be it.

But she still needed to frame her response to Gloria. Generous but cool, that was the ticket. Agreeable, yet firm. God forbid that Gloria think she now had carte blanche.

Maybe what she ought to do, after she picked up Picayune, her much-loved little brown Mercedes 280L roadster, was turn up her tape of Tina Turner’s “Proud Mary” and take the causeway to her favorite dive in Abita Springs. Soothe herself with an oyster po’boy and a couple of beers. Yes, the long drive across the lake always cleared her head.

The streetcar rattled on. Diana could see the freeway overpass up ahead, beyond it Lee Circle where a statue of General Robert E. Lee stood upon a tall pillar, facing north, so he’d never have his back to his enemies. She wasn’t far now from her stop.

Rob wasn’t coming over till much later this evening. Nineish, he’d said. Then she could give him the good news, minus the complicating details. With Gloria’s vote, his job was in the bag. They’d crack open a bottle of champagne, celebrate. Maybe play one of their favorite games. Strangers assigned to a sleeping car on the Sunset Limited to Los Angeles? Or…wait. Rob had suggested something earlier on the phone. Still rattled by Gloria, she couldn’t remember what….

*

“Vengeful? Well, I never thought so, particularly, but when we were brainstorming in class today, I totally changed my mind.”

“Yeah,” Chloe agreed. “That story she told about how, a long time ago, somebody wronged her, and she fantasized about burning his house down? But then, like she said, everyone has revenge fantasies. The real question is whether people act on them or not.”

“I know,” said Amber. “But just the way she said it,
Burn his house down
, it gave me shivers.”

*

Wait a minute. Diana was about to pull the signal cord, gathering her things. The girls were talking about Amber’s married boyfriend, Amber did say he was married, didn’t she, and now they were talking about
her
class?
Her
story assignment?
Her?

“He’s been so careful,” Amber continued. “And it’s really brilliant, the way that whole pitiful charade she’s insisted on, his being her secret boyfriend, has played right into his plan. But once he has the job, well, anyway, by Christmas of next year, he can dump her. And then we can go public. My momma is crazy about him, you know. She thinks he’s the spit and image of Harry Connick, Jr.”

“And your dad likes Rob, too, right?”

“Oh yeah, he…”

*

Diana didn’t hear Amber’s reply as she stumbled blindly through the rear exit door and fell out into the rain.

Her feet had barely hit the wet grass of the neutral ground when her stomach heaved and she spewed hot yellow vomit.

“Oh my God!” someone cried.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?” another asked.

But Diana waved them away. Please don’t. Don’t look at me. Don’t touch me. Don’t pity me. Don’t.

She didn’t remember much between that spinning moment and stepping out of a taxi at her own doorstep. She must have hailed the cab, must have realized she couldn’t drive, her ears ringing, her eyes blind to this world.

Once inside her house, Diana fell on all fours to the faded red-and-blue Kirman in the foyer, one of the ever-so-tasteful treasures Richard had left behind. She writhed. She howled like a dog. She tore at her hair, her clothes. She cursed Rob’s name. She cursed Amber.

And then Amber’s words cut through the din and the frenzy:
pitiful, secret boyfriend, played into his plan, the job, dump her.

Amber, the golden girl. Amber, one of her favorites. Amber, whom she’d taken to her heart. Amber, the fresh young bitch.

Pitiful, pitiful, pitiful
, the chorus resounded.

They’d made a fool of her. A tidal wave of shame washed her from top to bottom.

Eventually, after what seemed a year, a decade, an eternity of agony, Diana made it to the sideboard and sloshed three fingers of bourbon into a glass. As she tossed it back, her stomach lurched once, then settled, and the amber fire felt good.

Excellent, in fact. The burn in her belly would help her focus.

Not as if there were that much to decide, really. Not many options.

First, of course, she’d “compromise.” She’d withdraw her support for Rob’s candidacy and cast her vote for the young blond feminist.

That would be just desserts for Gloria and take care of the job question.

Not that it would be even a step toward addressing the hatred that had begun to bubble in her belly for Rob.
Oh, Rob. Rob, Rob
,
Rob
. A bubble that would eventually fill her to bursting, she was certain of it. Just like the hatred she’d felt for Richard. The hatred that had had her dreaming of fire, rat poison, knives, guns. The hatred that still lingered even now, long after AIDS had devoured him. And the need to get even. There was no way such humiliation could go unpunished. Revenge would be hers.

But first things first. No position for Rob. No reward for Gloria.

Though, wait. Not too hasty. What might Gloria serve up in return? Thwarted Gloria, who no more wanted the blond hottie hired than she wanted a third arm, the young woman just a tool in her scheme? Diana had long been witness to Gloria’s wrath. Gloria would not take being crossed lightly.

No. She couldn’t risk it. She needed to think.

Just then Diana’s phone began to ring. Let it. She sloshed more bourbon into her glass. Let it ring, ring, ring off the hook. There was no one on God’s green earth she wanted to talk to. No one. She couldn’t even imagine forming words.

Once again Diana doubled over with pain. Hot tears cascaded down her face like boiling rain. She felt as if someone had ripped her skin off in one piece, discarded everything inside but for her hatred, then left the husk. She was a semblance of a human being. But only a facsimile. She would never be whole again. Never.

Then a deep voice boomed through her answering machine. “Hey, darling, it’s Fred.” Her neighbor, a lawyer, and the head of the block association.

“Just wanted to remind you you need to be hypervigilant until the cops catch this burglarizing s.o.b. Not that there won’t be another one right behind him. Marcia Pennington said she thought she heard somebody snooping around her back porch this afternoon. Lock up and batten down, hon.”

*

Diana froze, staring in the direction of Fred’s voice, her glass halfway to her lips. Now she remembered what Rob had said earlier. Now she recalled the game he’d proposed.