“What happened to her?”
He tensed, took his hand away. But after a while he said, “One night, she wanted to go out with some friends. My dad tried to forbid her to leave the house. Like I said, she was only sixteen, but she had already been through a couple of drug treatment programs. Cost more than my folks could afford, really, but they were getting desperate by then. My mom had convinced my dad to change his shift, so that he’d be home to help deal with her. Didn’t really help. Diana would be okay for a little while, then… I don’t know.”
He stared at the picture as if he might find an answer there, some way to explain Diana. Just when I started to wonder if I should prompt him to continue, he started talking again.
“I can remember that night so clearly. It was summer. Our air conditioner was busted, and so we had all the windows and doors open. My mom and Cassie were at the store, and Dad was reading the newspaper, but keeping an eye on Diana. She was angry. She was pacing around in the living room, acting fidgety. I knew something was up, so I tried to distract her. I thought maybe I could keep her out of trouble. So I asked her to teach me to dance. She played along, but the whole time, she was watching for someone. I wasn’t much of a dancer. She laughed. I started dancing goofier on purpose, trying to make her laugh more.”
He looked up from the photo.
“Useless kid’s stuff. Diana’s friends drove up and honked for her. They were whooping and yelling, sounded like they were already high or drunk or both. She started to go out the door, my dad stood in her way. She yelled, ‘Fuck you, pig.’ Screamed it at him. You know, like he wasn’t her dad, like he was arresting her at a war protest or something. Her own dad. I couldn’t believe she would talk to him like that.”
He shook his head, as if he still couldn’t believe it. “My dad was furious. I could see it. Whenever you really made him angry, he’d get real quiet.”
Just like you do, I thought, but said nothing.
“My dad moved out of her way, and said, ‘You go out that door, Diana, don’t bother coming back.’ It was just something he said because he was hurt, the kind of thing parents say when they’re upset. He didn’t mean it. She looked over at me, and — I don’t know, I guess I’ve always wondered if she would have stayed if I hadn’t been there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, just that she had to prove something then, couldn’t let her kid brother see Dad face her down. She smiled at me and said, ‘Guess you’d better find a new dancing partner, Frankie,’ and left.” He paused, then said, “It got late and she wasn’t home. I was in my bedroom, I heard my mom and dad arguing. I guess my dad was putting on a jacket to go looking for her when the doorbell rang. I heard my dad open the door, and then… he made this sound… I hadn’t ever heard anyone make that sound before. I ran out of my room. My mom was wailing by then, but I was still more worried about him. They were holding on to each other. My dad was sobbing. I had never seen him shed a tear, and here he was, weeping.”
He stared off into space for a moment, caught up in his memories. When he spoke again his voice was soft and low, distracted. “A uniform — one of my dad’s friends was there. Probably his best friend on the force — his first partner. Gray-haired old guy by the name of Nat Cook. The other guys called him ‘Cookie.’ Cookie was crying, too, but quietly. He saw me, held out an arm, and I went to him. I was just bewildered. Cookie was too choked up to talk to me. I knew it was about Diana. I knew she had to be dead. If she had been hurt, they would have been rushing off to the hospital, but they were just standing there.
“I was the only one who wasn’t crying. I kept thinking that I needed to be strong for my dad. I knew that he was blaming himself, thinking that the last thing he said to her was that she shouldn’t come back.”
“How did it happen?”
“The car — they were all drunk. Driver, too. I guess they were crossing some tracks, tried to beat a train. Plowed through a lowered gate arm at the railroad crossing, didn’t make it across. Killed everybody in the car. Engineer said he didn’t even get a chance to try to brake. They all said it was quick, but I don’t know….”
This time he fell silent.
“Ever do your crying for her?” I asked softly.
He didn’t respond for a moment, then shook his head. “No, not really. I loved her. It wasn’t that. It was just that I was a kid and I thought about it the way a kid would, you know? I had to be strong. That was what I kept telling myself. After a while, I
I took his hand again, gave it a squeeze. He moved closer to me, took me in his arms, and held me. “I know it wasn’t right to keep this from you, Irene. But I just couldn’t say, ‘Hey, by the way, did I ever tell you that I was one of three children, not two?’ ”
“I think you might have figured out another way to bring it up, Frank. I understand the subject is painful, but I guess it’s hard for me to accept that we’ve known each other all these years without… well, you’ve explained it, but it’s still hard to accept.”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.”
“When we were engaged, didn’t your mom—”
“She made me renew my promise.”
I sat up a little. “What?”
“Irene, if you asked me whether this was a healthy way to deal with things, I’d say no, it’s not. But I’d also say it’s too late. It’s the way she chose. Diana was her daughter. I’m her son. I had to respect her wishes. And by now… I don’t know if she could deal with it. It would just open old wounds. She was upset enough when I told her I was going to tell you tonight.”
I found myself unable to argue with him, at least at that moment. But I also felt — rightly or wrongly — pushed outside. That in-law feeling. For that evening, I decided, I could rise above my petty troubles, could comfort him, could see that his problems were greater than mine. Still, the notion that he was keeping secrets from me was not
