Tink-a-tink-a-tink-a-tink-a-tink. The phone rarely rang, but when it did I always jumped. Not so much because it was loud – though it was – but because it didn’t really ring so much as it bleated, like there was something wedged between the clapper and the bell. I was usually home alone, yet I always ran for the phone, from my bedroom or the bathroom. If I happened to be in Mona’s sofa bed in front of the tv as I often was, the phone was within reach, but I was usually settled into the divot in the middle so it took some effort to climb out and pick up the receiver before it rang a second time, which was always my goal.
Tink-a-tink-a-tink-a-tink-a-tink. I always answered a little out of breath.
me: Hello?
she: Randy?
me: Yeah?
she: Is that you?
me: Yeah.
she: It doesn’t sound like you.
me: Well, it is. Who’s this?
she: It’s Diamond.
It didn’t sound like her either. But not because she was out of breath. I realized in that instant that we had never talked on the phone. We had never talked much at all – just by chance when we saw each other in the trailerpark or at school – but here she was calling me. She sniffled and I knew she had been crying. Black Lake was a sad place in the summer of ’79.
It had started out as much like a fairy tale as anyone could have imagined. Diamond’s brother Rich and his high school sweetheart Susanna were married on the grounds of the Keystone Inn, where Mona and Brenda worked. I went to work with them that day and hung out in a room overlooking the courtyard where the festivities took place. Susanna was definitely the blond-haired blue-eyed princess the newspapers reported, but Rich was the real spectacle in my opinion, even though he was hardly mentioned, except for his accomplishments on the football field and track. His white tuxedo was tight in just the right places; he was a beautiful man, and no one other than me seemed to notice.
I fell asleep on the made bed and awoke to Mona slapping at my head, cussing at me, smoothing the covers, and telling me it was time to go home. That was officially the end of the fairy tale. The party raged on outside and in the dining room, but Mona and Brenda had worked a full day and were tired and had no interest in a celebration they weren’t invited to anyway.
The Keystone Inn got smaller and smaller out the back of Brenda’s El Camino and then we turned a corner and it was gone. The bright red Cadillac convertible out in front of the inn with the streamers, empty cans and old shoes tied to the back bumper was a wedding gift from Susanna’s father; the lavish wedding itself was paid for by Susanna’s mother and stepfather. Rich’s parents went into debt to give the newlyweds a matching set of his and hers luggage to carry with them to the Florida Keys for a weeklong seaside honeymoon. But they came back two days later in body bags.
she: Randy, can you drive me somewhere?
The image of the accident was fresh in my head; the details were laid out in the newspaper the day the bodies were delivered, the story was graphically enhanced by Mona, just to annoy me.
me: I don’t know how to drive.
she: I’ve seen you driving around the courtyard in Brenda’s car.
me: I was just goin’ in a circle around the flagpole.
she: That’s driving.
me: It ain’t goin’ nowhere.
she: Randy, I need your help.
me: Brenda won’t let me drive her car.
she: Not her car, my car, my mama and daddy’s car. Randy, listen to me, this is very important. Mr. Woods made me some crosses—
me: Who’s Mr. Woods?
she: Susanna’s daddy.
Her voice cracked. She took a breath and continued.
I want to put them in the ground on the side of the road.
me: Where?
she: Where it happened.
There was a long pause. I could hear Diamond’s breath and mine in the earpiece, syncopated, like a tide coming in.
me: When?
she: This Saturday.
She exhaled relief.
Randy, thank you.
I didn’t say I would do it, but we both knew in that moment that I would. The following Saturday was the one-month anniversary of the tragedy. “June bride, married then died,” Mona said in a singsong voice from behind the newspaper she’d brought home from work, making fun of me for crying about it.
That was a big part of the reason I decided to help Diamond out; having never driven on a highway, I was convinced that Diamond and I were going to get in a wreck and be killed just like Rich and Susanna had. Somehow I was all right with that. In one fell swoop I could stick my tongue out at Mona and be with Rich again in the afterlife. Not that I really believed in the afterlife, but at the funeral the minister talked a lot about Rich’s transformation since he had been going to the church that Susanna grew up in, how he had become a Christian at that very altar hidden for the moment under the two sparkly gray coffins. The minister spoke of the heavenly rewards the young couple was already receiving, even before their earthly bodies had been laid in the ground. The minister said that anyone could have the same rewards if they just asked Jesus into their hearts, so I did, silently, right there at the funeral, in hopes that eventually I would be with Rich again.
The following Saturday, we rode with Diamond’s mother to the truck stop in Hawthorne where she worked behind the register in a big green apron. Mrs. White parked and sighed. Diamond sat in the back seat with the two white crosses next to her; they were about two feet tall and a foot wide. Diamond had glued hardware store letters that Susanna’s father had given her across the middle pieces of the crosses – one said rich, the other susanna – and she had decorated the crosses with memorabilia from Susanna’s scrap book, strips of crinkled maroon and gold plastic from her cheerleading pompom, buttons from pep rallies, ribbons that Rich had received at track meets.
I was sitting next to Mrs. White in the front seat. None of us spoke, and Mrs. White’s silence was the most obvious. She checked the rearview mirror a few times then passed a pained smile from her daughter to me. I saw Rich in her face all of a sudden and had to look out the window to keep from crying.
Finally, Mrs. White got out of the car, which jostled like a boat and the springs creaked. She walked around the car, opened the back door behind me and waved Diamond into her arms for a goodbye hug. They stood there and cried. I cried too, but constantly wiped away the tears because I didn’t think I had as much right to them as Rich’s mother and sister did.
Out the front windshield I watched another fat woman in a green apron taking the drawer out of a cash register and replacing it. And then Mrs. White was in the scene, walking away from the car, walking into the building, pulling an apron over her head, tying the strings around her back and working the register.
The back car door slammed shut. Diamond sniffled.
she: All right, Randy, let’s go.
I slid across the bench seat, found the lever under the front of it to bring the seat closer to the steering wheel, adjusted the rearview mirror and started the car. I looked over my shoulder.
me: Are you gonna stay back there?
she: Yeah.
me: I don’t know where I’m goin’.
she seemed a bit put out: Down 25, past Okahumpka, under 91. Somewhere right around there.
me: Where’s 25?
she: That’s it right out there. There’s a map in the glove compartment with a mark on it for where we’re going.
me, cheerfully: Oh, why didn’t you say so?!
she: Randy, this isn’t fun for me.
I didn’t know how to respond. I said, “I’m sorry,” but I didn’t know what I was sorry for. I took out the map of Florida, found a red dot almost all the way to Orlando, past Okahumpka and Dilly Marsh, under the turnpike and at a great bend in the road.
I pulled nervously onto the state road, hands sloppy on the steering wheel, slowly got up to 55 miles per hour, then 60, and settled somewhere between the two. After I felt more confident, I wiped one hand at a time down the legs of my jeans to dry them off and thought I would turn on the radio, but when I asked if she minded, Diamond’s stern “No!” told me she had misheard my question, so I didn’t. We rode for two hours with only the sound of the wind at the windows and the road under the wheels and an occasional sniffle from the back seat to keep us company.
I watched 91, the turnpike, approaching for half an hour or so. The parade of eighteen-wheelers first looked like ants on the horizon then grew bigger and bigger, and then I started seeing automobiles, and then the turnpike was right upon us and everything was bigger than life. I pulled to the shoulder and stopped with a jerk in the shade of the overpass. Diamond jolted awake, disoriented.
she: What’s going on?
me: I have to check the map.
she: Where are we?
me: The turnpike.
she: What turnpike?
I pointed up. Diamond looked out the window then leaned back in her seat.
Oh.
I found our place on the map and the red dot a quarter of an inch farther south.
me: It’s real close to where we are. The road curves around up here and then—
she cut me off: Okay, Randy, just find it.
I put the map on the seat next to me, pulled onto the road and continued in the silence another few moments. The road curved around eastward and before it had completely straightened out, I saw a set of skid marks starting on the inside lane, moving at an angle toward the center of the two southbound lanes and then stopping suddenly. At that point, there was a dirt road poking out from between two orange groves. I turned there, drove a few yards, pulled to the side and put the car in Park.
me: This is it.
she: How do you know?
I didn’t want to state the obvious.
me: It’s the spot on the map.
I looked back at her. She seemed terrified, like a deer caught in the headlights.
Do you need me to help you?
she: No! –I mean, no. Thank you. I wanna do this by myself.
me: Okay.
she: You stay here, Randy. I’ll come back if I need you.
me: Okay.
I turned off the ignition and sat back, exhilarated from the drive. Diamond gathered up the crosses and awkwardly climbed out of the car clutching them to her body. She pushed the door closed with her backside and I watched her walking toward the road through the rearview and side mirrors. She disappeared around the front of the grove and left me alone, again in the silence, occasional passing cars and eighteen-wheelers swooshing past, lulling me into a drowsy state.
Right about then, I see a truck coming toward me sending up a cloud of orange dust behind it. The back of the truck is a big basket filled to overflowing with shiny oranges. The driver passes without even looking at me, focused, staring straight ahead. The orange dust fills the car with the smell of diesel, dirt and citrus. I jump out to get fresh air and am drawn into the wake of dust. The truck has stalled at the road. The brake lights flicker as the driver tries to get it started – ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh, ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh.
The orange grove to the left of me is shorter than the one on the right; I hadn’t noticed that before. The turnpike is visible over the tops of the squat trees, as is the road Diamond and I took to get here. I can see that the road is mostly deserted except for a red dot on the north side of the turnpike, a red car coming south. It makes me think of the red Cadillac Rich and Susanna were in.
I’m almost close enough to the truck to reach up and take an orange or two. It is a tall truck, the fruit basket is high off the ground, I’ll have to climb up on the back. Just as I get close enough to touch it, the fruit truck sputters to a start and lurches out into the road. I bite my lip and taste blood.
The truck stalls again and coasts across the two southbound lanes of State Road 25. The red dot that I had noticed before has passed under the turnpike and is now making its way around the big curve. It is in fact a red convertible Cadillac! Rich is behind the driver’s seat, still in his white tuxedo, Susanna is sitting next to him in her gown, waving two matching bouquets over her head like pompoms.
I scream, “Rich!”
He looks at me, into my eyes, tips his chin in my direction, oblivious to the stalled truck in the middle of the road.
“No, Rich!” I cry, “Look out!”
But it’s too late. The Cadillac plows into the fruit truck, under it. Susanna’s head is plucked off her torso like a ripe fruit, red nectar spews all over her white dress. The disembodied head with the veil still attached flies through the air gracefully then lands rolling on the state road, coming to a halt a hundred yards up the road at the beginning of the curve. Her eyes are still wide-open and bright, sky blue and full of life; her tongue is chomped between her teeth and stuck out at the oncoming traffic. Cars squeal off into the ditch or the median as they approach the head in the middle of the road, some smash into each other.
The Cadillac extrudes under the south side of the truck to the trunk. I run to the car and see white leather seats and white wedding clothes dripping with blood, glass and body parts. In the center of it is Rich, head forced back so severely by the impact that his head is twisted over the headrest and his Adam’s apple is exposed through the broken flesh of his neck.
I open my mouth to scream but no sound comes out. I tear at my throat, trying to free my voice box, or trying to pull my head off. That’s what I’m doing: I want to pull off my head and put it on Susanna’s body; I can take her place. I’ll be Rich’s bride.
Suddenly, I hear a sound that is full of all the anguish I’m feeling, but it isn’t me. I am being shook by the shoulders, someone is screaming my name, crying and gasping. It’s Diamond. I want to turn and hug her, like her mother did. I want to cry with her.
she: Randy, wake up. Please!
I stirred awake.
me: What? What happened?
Diamond was shaking me through the window of the Crown Victoria; I was sitting behind the wheel on the dirt road. Her face was dirty and stripes ran down her cheeks from the tears.
she: Randy, please!
me: Diamond! What’s wrong?
she: I can’t get the crosses to stay in place.
She opened the car door.
Come on.
I rolled out of the car quickly, walked behind her in a fog, which cleared as we approached State Road 25. There was a peacefulness in the occasional swooshing of cars and eighteen-wheelers. The dirt road was like a hallway, lined on both sides by green trees taller than us. At the paved road, Diamond turned right and I kept following. The crosses were lying exhausted near the shoulder. The top of the one marked susanna was a bit frayed and the bare wood beneath the white paint was exposed. A large rock lying close by had chips of paint stuck to it. The cross marked rich was missing a track ribbon, which was lying on the hard ground near several flat inch-long holes where Diamond had obviously tried to bang the crosses into the ground.
She picked up Rich’s cross and held it out to me, tears running down the tracks in her face.
she: They won’t stay!
I took the cross from her and held it as she wept profusely into her dirty hands. I looked around and saw that the ground farther away from the road had some grass growing in patches.
me: Can we put them over there?
she: What?
me: Is it okay if we try over there? The ground might be softer.
She shrugged, I gathered up Susanna's cross and carried the two of them closer to the orange trees, squatted, took a deep breath; the bittersweet smell of orange filled my nostrils.
she picked up the rock she had been using: Do you need this?
me: Yes, please.
She carried the rock to me and I gently tapped the crosses into the ground, Susanna’s first, then Rich’s next to hers but a little bit in front. Diamond sat cross-legged in front of them rocking and crying gently, but smiling.
I returned to the shoulder for the purple and yellow ribbon that had come loose and an armful of medium-sized rocks. I stacked the rocks around the bases of the crosses to keep them in place, laid the unattached ribbon at the bottom of Rich’s and set the hammering rock on top of it. I stepped back and took it in. Diamond turned around to me and smiled. She looked a bit like a raccoon and I bit my lip to keep in a nervous laugh.
she sniffled: Thanks, Randy.
me: You’re welcome.
She turned back to the crosses for a moment, wiped her nose on her shirtsleeve, let out a long exhale.
she: I think I’m ready.
I held out a hand, she took it, I pulled her to her feet. She wrapped her arm around my waist and my heart fluttered as I put mine around her shoulder. We walked to the car in silence, splitting up at the trunk.
Do you mind if I drive back home?
me: No. We’ll probably get there faster if you do!
she laughed: You’re not a bad driver, Randy.
me: Thanks.
We went up the sides of the car and got in, her behind the steering wheel, me across from her in the passenger seat.
she: Why aren’t we better friends, Randy?
me: I don’t know.
she: Well, if it has anything to do with me, I’m sorry.
me: I don’t think so. You’re just popular and I’m not.
she: I’m not popular! You think I’m popular?
me: You are. Look at the people you hang out with.
she seemed to be thinking about it for a moment: I don’t know. –That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.
I didn’t say anything.
I promise, from now on, Randy, we’re gonna be better friends.
me: Okay.
She started the car.
she: Do you want the radio?
me: Sure.
she: Okay. You find a good station.
I leaned to the middle of the seat and turned on the radio while Diamond turned the car around little by little on the narrow dirt road, more nervously, I thought, than I would have. I twisted the tuner knob past talking voices until I found music. I paused to figure out what the song was.
she slammed on the brakes: Leave it there!
I sat up, startled.
me: What!?
she: That’s Cher! Do you like Cher?
me: Kind of.
The truth was, I loved Cher, but I wasn’t sure I was supposed to; I had overheard somebody at school say, “Only girls like Cher,” and another somebody say, “Yeah, girls and fairies!”
Diamond twisted the volume knob to the right and sang along to the song.
she: ‘Cause there’s a pain in my heart, and it’s tearing me apart;
Well, I guess it all comes down to lovin’ you.
She looked at me and we both laughed.
Sing it with me, Randy! You know you want to!
us: Do you see the clouds?
Can you feel the rain?
It’s all coming down to love and pain.
she: This is perfect! This song is so perfect right now.
me: Yeah.
she: Do you know what I mean, Randy?
me: I do. Because of Rich?
she: Yes, exactly.
She adjusted the rearview mirror and caught her reflection in it. The smile dropped off of her face. She turned the radio down and looked at me with horror in her eyes.
me: What?
she: Why didn’t you say something, Randy?
me: What?
she: Why didn’t you tell me?
me: Tell you what?
she: Look at me!
me: What?
she: My face! I look awful!
She looked in the mirror again.
Oh, my god!
me: Well, stop looking!
she: I can’t! I can’t stop looking at myself! –Are there any napkins in the glove compartment? Or Kleenex?
I opened the glove box and rifled through it.
me: No, nothing.
she pushed the rearview mirror away: I look horrible.
me: Nobody will see.
she: You will!
me: I won’t say anything.
she: That’s obvious!
I laughed. I could tell there was a bit of lightness behind her words.
I thought we were friends, Randy!
me: I’ll give you my shirt if that’ll help.
she: What good would your shirt do me?
me: I could spit on it.
she: Don’t bother!
She laughed and peeled out across State Road 25 heading north. The radio came back on and we spent the drive home – a little more than an hour-and-a-half – laughing and singing along to the Police, Cheap Trick, Donna Summer and every other top 40 song that played. Sometimes we hollered things to each other, but mostly we just sang and enjoyed each other’s company. It really felt like we’d become friends and I was happy about that, happier in the moment than I think I had ever been before.
When we got back to the truck stop in Hawthorne, Diamond had forgotten about the state of her face and ran inside to hug her mother and share her joy. Mrs. White laughed as she hugged her daughter then held her at arm’s length and shook her head, a bit disapproving.
she: Oh, mama, I forgot all about the way I look! I’m so embarrassed!
Diamond and I washed up and sat in the trucker restaurant and ate burgers and fries and drank cokes. She talked nonstop about nothing and everything, happiness bubbling over in her. I didn’t know if it was because of the successful planting of the memorial crosses or if it was because of our new friendship; I hoped it was the latter and I got totally caught up in it.
When Mrs. White got off work, the three of us went back to Black Lake Mobile Court. As we pulled up to their trailer home, Mrs. White asked Diamond if she had “mentioned the thing” to me.
she: Oh, yeah… Randy, how would you like to take care of Abraham?
me: The iguana?
she: Yeah. We thought you might like it, since you and Rich used to enjoy him together.
me: Oh. Yeah. Sure, okay.
she: That’s great!
Mrs. White smiled and nodded her approval as well. It was the first time I had heard Diamond mention Rich’s name since the accident; I think it was the first time her mother had heard it too. It seemed like things maybe were going to work out okay. Abraham would be a nice reminder of my friendship with Rich, as would my new friendship with Diamond. For the first time in my life, I was looking forward to being in school again.
I spent the summer laying expectations end to end for my senior year of high school. I knew I was probably setting myself up for some amount of disappointment, but what else could I do with all those many days I spent alone?