Becca Read online

He nodded. “Yes, I said that.”

  “Well, were you together? Did you have sex with her?”

  “No, sir.” His face reddened and his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Becky.”

  “Why would you lie about something like that, son?” Bill demanded.

  Greg’s eyes never left Becca’s eyes. She wanted to speak, but she could not. The look on Greg’s face stopped her.

  “So that’s why you ran out,” Mary said. “You knew the truth. You were upset. You had a right—Bill, she was upset because you called her a liar.”

  Bill said, “Greg, I think you had better go home.”

  “Yessir. Becky, can we talk?”

  “Greg, you should leave now,” Bill said.

  “Please, Mr. Smith. A couple of minutes? Becky?”

  “All right,” Becca said.

  They walked to his car.

  “I’m sorry. I…didn’t think my father would tell your father what I had said.”

  “Why did you lie?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “Because you don’t find me attractive, Greg. Because you don’t find any girl attractive.”

  He rubbed his eyes, as if to keep from crying. He did not look at her. “I want to.”

  “But you don’t. You can’t.”

  He shrugged. “How long have you known?”

  She leaned against the Chrysler. “It’s been in the back of mind since the prom and you and I ended up alone in your house while your parents were out of town. Remember that? We had some wine and we were really getting hot and heavy, and you just stopped. I wanted to believe it was the alcohol, Greg. I wanted to. But I wasn’t upset—remember?—because I would have regretted doing it. And I realized later that the reason you didn’t do anything, wasn’t because of the alcohol, but because you…because you couldn’t.

  “A girl senses things, and after that I kind of knew, but I didn’t say anything because…well, because I liked being around you. Then Josh said he didn’t think we made a good couple and I thought about us…and he’s right. And I knew why we didn’t make a good couple. You told your father something he wanted to hear because you…you wanted to hide the real reason why you’re losing your focus—as my father put it.”

  “Lose my focus?”

  “Having trouble in school, Greg? Are you not doing as well as you wanted?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m…there’s a lot going on—you know…I’m not happy.”

  “So your dad thinks it’s me. And maybe he thinks we should break up.”

  “No. He doesn’t want that.”

  “Yes he does. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll ruin your life like I ruined Alexander’s. You remember Alexander, don’t you? The guy who loved me—the one who had to go to Vietnam because of me.”

  “Bec—”

  “My dad wasn’t even upset when he thought you and I were having sex. He was more concerned with you losing focus. I think he was happy that his daughter was attracted to white guys.”

  Greg took her into his arms. She felt safe there. She enjoyed his warmth. She wished it meant something. “Don’t talk about that,” he said.

  “My father never lets me forget it.”

  “I shouldn’t have told my father. But he…I think he—I think he suspects something.”

  “You could have said you screwed someone else, Greg, not me.”

  “I know. I’m really sorry.”

  “You came over tonight not to try and get me back, but to find out if I’d said anything about you.” He nodded and pushed hair out of her eyes. Becca said, “I wouldn’t. I was angry. I…I was hurt. But I would never reveal the truth.”

  “Your father wants an answer from me.”

  “Give him an answer. Tell him you were just talking shit.”

  “Yes, I’ll say that. Mr. Smith I was just talking shit.”

  “Tell your dad the same thing.”

  “They’ll ask why.”

  “Tell them we had an argument and you wanted to get even.”

  Greg said, “I really, really don’t want to break up.”

  “We’re not a couple, Greg. We’re not salt and pepper.”

  “Where in the hell did you hear that expression?”

  “Josh.”

  “Who’s Josh?”

  “Some guy I know.”

  “You’ve met someone else?” Greg’s voice sounded deflated.

  “No, not really. I mean. Yes. But we’re just friends.”

  “Would you…leave me for him?”

  She looked up at Greg. He looked like a boy who lost his favorite toy. “It’s not a matter of leaving you, Greg. We’re not really together.”

  “You know what I mean. Listen, I know that we’re not what you say—salt and pepper—but, right now I’ve got so much going on in my head that…well I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “My dad finding out. My mom. Oh, my God, my mom! My friends.”

  “So you’ll live a lie.”

  “What else can I do?”

  “I can’t stay with you just for that, Greg.” Becca forced herself away from him. “I like you. I’ve always liked you and I don’t want this to be the end of a friendship. But we’re not meant for each other—you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I know that. Please. Don’t break up with me. Let’s just keep on going like before.”

  “We can’t.”

  “For now. I’ve got a chance to transfer schools. I’ll do that. I’ve talked to my dad about going out to UCLA. I think I’d like it there. So until then, can’t we just keep on going, like I said?”

  Becca shrugged. “I suppose. But on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If I want to see someone else I can.”

  “What are you talking about? You want to leave me for another guy.”

  “Don’t you?”

  He jerked his head back as if she’d slapped him.

  “Let’s stop talking around it, Greg. You’re a queer. Sorry. You’re a homosexual. And that’s a shame. You’re one helluva good looking guy.”

  “I used to hate what I am. Then I met some guys who didn’t hate what they were. But—how could I live that way? I’d be laughed at—my dad would disown me. I wanted to be happy, and I couldn’t be—like this.”

  “I want you to be happy, too, Greg. But you can’t be happy if you’re living a lie.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  They hugged.

  “My father is watching,” Becca said. “Kiss me.”

  “Sure.”

  “But make it like you really want to.”

  They kissed. It wasn’t as if they really wanted to.

  “Now,” Becca said. “I’m going back inside and say we’ve made up.”

  “You told your father I wasn’t your type. He’s going to ask you about that.”

  “I’ll tell him I was just angry. That’s all.”

  “Okay. One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “This guy you met, do I know him?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Will I meet him?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He nodded. “Okay, Becky. Good night.”

  “Oh, and one more thing for you, Greg, since we’re not really breaking up and we’re going to keep pretending we’re a couple. It’s a small thing, but important.”

  “What is it?”

  “No more Becky.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not Becky. It’s Becca—B E C C A. I think I’ve told you that now a million and two times. I swear. All of my friends call me Becca. My mom calls me Rebecca, and father—and you—call me Becky.”

  “Really? I didn’t know…I mean…I never thought about what I called you.”

  “I am Becca like in Re-becca. I am not Re-becky. Maybe you called me Becky because my father does. From here on out it’s Becca. Got that?”

  “Sure…sorry.”

  V

  �
��I was worried about you Bert. My goodness, it’s after midnight.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I went out for coffee.”

  “Who was that? Who brought you home?”

  “A friend.”

  “Who do you know that drives a Mustang?”

  “Her name is Rebecca.”

  “That’s a nice name. She’s a friend? Where did you meet her?”

  “She came into the gas station.” He smiled. “See, I can meet girls there. I don’t have to go out.”

  His mother smiled. “You should have asked her to come in.”

  “She had to go home.”

  “Next time?”

  “I don’t know if there’ll be a next time, Mom.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I’m not her type.” But he wasn’t sure if that was true. She liked him…it was so obvious. Yet he didn’t want to think of where it might lead.

  VI

  “I’m glad to hear that you’ve made up, honey.”

  Becca accepted her mother’s hug. “Yes, Mom. I was just really, really upset about what he’d said.”

  “Why would he say such a thing?”

  Becca shrugged. “He’s a guy. He’s full of crap when he gets mad. He’s going to apologize to you after he talks to his dad.”

  Bill said, “I naturally thought the worst, Becky, you understand.”

  Becca did not look at him. “Yes, of course.”

  “You’re mocking me?”

  “No. I just know that you have a reason not to trust me.”

  “Damn right. What you put us through—”

  “Bill, enough,” Mary said. “Please. She’s been good, haven’t you, honey? Of course, you have. She won’t make that mistake again, Bill.”

  “She’d better not.”

  The phone rang and Mary went to answer it.

  “I’m not completely satisfied, Becky” Bill said.

  “What are you talking about?” Becca asked.

  He tapped his teeth with the stem of his pipe. “When Greg came here he was beside himself.”

  “Well, he should have been. I gave him a piece of my mind on the phone.”

  “Yes. I know that. But, you know, besides being upset, there was something going on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Bill came closer to Becca, putting the pipe back in his mouth. “He was scared. You are lying. And when I figure what it is you’re lying about, young lady, you will regret it.” His eyes, from behind the lens of his glasses bored into hers. “I will find out.”

  Four

  I

  “Bert,” his mother said from the living room, “you have a phone call.”

  Bert was surprised because he rarely received phone calls. One of his old friends might call, or Carl his manager, but his mother shook her head to indicate she didn’t know who it was.

  “Bertram, it’s Sergeant James, Army recruiter,” the voice was quick and enthusiastic.

  “Oh, hello,” Bert said, as his mother gave him an inquisitive look. He knew she suspected it was a recruiter. He shrugged as she shook her head slowly, letting him know emphatically that she did not want him to talk to the man.

  “I’m just checking in to see if you’ve been decided whether or not you’re ready to take the ASVAB.”

  Bert answered quickly. “No, not right now.”

  “Ah,” Sergeant James’ voice hinted that he was smiling. “Well, then maybe I can come by and talk to you.”

  “Not here.”

  “How about at the gas station? I won’t take much of your time. I’ll stop by this evening. Good bye, Bertram.”

  “It was him,” his mother said when Bert set the phone down, “that recruiter.”

  “Yes, Mom. He wants to talk to me.”

  “No, honey, you don’t need to talk to him. He’s going to want you to join up, but you don’t have to.”

  “Mom, I can be drafted.”

  “So…you go talk to this recruiter and what does that do? How does that help you?” She looked sharply at him. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

  “Mom, please.” He hugged his mother. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.” However, he knew it would be a miracle if he avoided the draft.

  II

  It was close to seven PM when Sergeant James arrived. He stopped at the pumps and told Bert to fill the car.

  “Look, Bertram,” Sergeant James said, “I’m going to be totally honest with you. You’re going to be drafted, okay? You can’t get out of it. I’ve talked to dozens of guys like you who just stand around with their thumbs up their butt and can’t make up their mind. I come back to see them a week later and they’re crying because they got that letter. Even if you’ve gotten the letter from Uncle Sam, I can get you out of the draft if you enlist.”

  “So I’ll enlist in the navy or the air force.”

  “They have waiting lists.”

  “What about the reserves or the national guard?”

  “Same. Waiting lists. They’re filled up with guys who didn’t want to go overseas. Take the test for me. We’ll talk about the results and discuss your options.”

  “How long does it take?”

  “A few hours.”

  “What if I don’t pass it?”

  “You’ll pass it. You’d have to be an idiot not to.”

  “Maybe I’m an idiot.”

  Sergeant James shook his head. “And if you did try and fail it and didn’t you would end up with a score that won’t give you many options for training. You’d end up in the infantry or artillery—guaranteed Vietnam.”

  “So the army only puts losers in the infantry or artillery and sends them to Vietnam?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “I know what you’re saying, but you what you aren’t saying is that if I take this test and get the high test score, I won’t go to Vietnam.”

  “I can’t guarantee you that, but I can guarantee you won’t go there in one of the combat arms.”

  The pump clicked off. Bert took the hose out of the car and seated the nozzle on the pump. Becca’s Mustang pulled into the gas station. “Let me think about it,” he said.

  “Think about it, but don’t take too long.”

  The Mustang stopped on the other side of the pump island. Becca turned off the engine, smiled at Bert, and then busied herself with brushing her hair.

  “Well,” Sergeant James said, “you’ve got another customer. Give me a call…no, I’ll call you in a couple of days, all right?”

  “Sure.”

  III

  “Please tell me you want gas,” he said, “or I’m going to have to ask you to move on.”

  She smiled. “Give me two bucks worth.”

  Bert worked on her windshield while the gas flowed. Becca watched him through the windshield and he looked in at her. She wore a short skirt tonight, and she pointed at her legs.

  “So,” she said when he finished the windshield and replaced the nozzle on the pump, “my legs. They are exposed.”

  “And I’m supposed to be impressed?”

  “I’d be surprised, hurt, and angry if you weren’t.”

  “I guess they’re all right.”

  “You’re full of crap. They’re great.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You’re such a liar, Josh. But I don’t feel like arguing. What did that general want with you?”

  “He wants to put me in the Army.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the Army needs more people I guess.”

  “To send to Vietnam. You shouldn’t go there. Trust me. You could get hurt.”

  “I don’t plan on going.”

  “Nobody plans on going there, Josh. For Christ’s sake, they just end up there. There’re a lot of guys from around here who’ve gone and some who didn’t come back.” She paused and tapped the steering wheel. “It’s a goddamned thing, that war. You know? It sucks. It turns everything upside down. I’ve been to some funerals
for classmates and I’ll tell you, Josh…I don’t want to go to any more. So you need to figure out a way to not go there.” She tapped his arm for emphasis. “And you know what really sucks? When a guy comes back in a box and you can’t look at him, and you just sit there and think of what he used to look like and you want to see his face one more time…you want to make absolutely sure that he’s in the coffin so you know he’s actually home and not someplace else.” She sighed through a sob, and dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Oh, crap, there you go again making me run at the mouth.”

  “Are you okay, Becca?”

  She shook her head. “Yes…I’m okay. I’m fine.” She checked her watch. “Sorry I can’t stay. Not that I should be here anyway, right? I wasn’t supposed to come back. I guess that was bullshit. Good night, Josh. I’ll see you again—here probably.” She started the car.

  “Night, Becca.”

  She pulled out into traffic and Bert followed her progress until she made a turn at the stop sign. As he walked back to the building, he saw the car coming back toward the gas station. Becca pulled in and stopped next to him.

  “You forget something?” he asked.

  “You really don’t have a girlfriend?”

  “No.” The question surprised him.

  “So what do you look for in a girl—assuming you look for anything?”

  “Let’s see...honesty, great beauty, intelligence, compassion—those are important.”

  “Check. Check. Check. Check.” She emphasized her words by drawing check marks in the air.

  He smiled and her eyes gleamed. “Why do you ask?”

  “In case I find someone you might like. It’s obvious that you won’t take the time to find someone, so maybe I can help. I just needed something to work with.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know. But…dammit, I think it’s a shame you’re alone. There’s someone out there for you, Josh, and I aim to find her.”

  “Well I appreciate that, Becca.”

  “Any height restrictions?”

  “No.”

  “Weight?”

  “For what?”

  “Hardy-har-har. Like ‘em fat, skinny, in between?”

  He shrugged. “I hadn’t thought of it.”

  “Well using me as a guide—since you’ve had an eyeful of me in the past—would you want someone like me or skinnier or fatter or what?”

  “You’re about right.”