stared at my sister for a moment, wondering if she noticed that I looked a little the worse for wear, and realizing that she of course didn’t. It was actually better that Darlene not know about my encounter. She’d only run straight back to our parents and tell all, and then I’d have that to deal with.
“You were looking for me?” I sputtered. “Where were you?”
I saw her catch her breath and get ready to start in on the defense, and short-circuited her.
“Never mind. Would you look at this place?” I said, hoping she wouldn’t notice I was sweating bullets and slightly out of breath. I stared down at the brochure I held in my hands and started spouting off information, hoping to distract Darlene with facts. “It was built in 1886. It’s perfect.”
Darlene’s expression changed to one of wary concern. “Perfect for what? It’s falling apart.”
“Darlene, look. It’s got good bones. It might need updating, some paint and a new roof, but the brochure says that most of the structural renovations have been completed. It’s mainly cosmetic work now. Best of all, it’s only sixty-eight thousand.
“Dollars?”
I gave her a look that said her sarcasm wasn’t wasted on me. I knew what she was saying. “Darlene, it’s a steal. Do you realize what one of these would cost in Philly? In Society Hill? This is unbelievable.”
“Unbelievable is right,” she said. “It’s probably just a shell. And you see those brick apartments back there? Those are the Projects. Sophie, this is not a good neighborhood.”
I looked where she was pointing, almost exactly behind the house, maybe a block away. Then I turned and looked across the street in the other direction, at the little cottages that had already been renovated, sweet with flower boxes and periwinkle shutters, rich with fresh paint and gingerbread trim. Suddenly the decision was an easy one.
“It’s a steal, Darlene.”
“They’ll rob you blind, Sophie.”
“I could make money on resale.”
“You could be killed in your bed one night.”
“I love it,” I said, but I was thinking, I’ll be killed for sure if I stay in Philly. It’s only a matter of time. Besides, what school administrator in Philadelphia would renew the contract of a kindergarten teacher who’d been married to Nick the Dick?
“You live in Grandma’s old house,” she attempted to remind me. “You complain about it constantly.”
“I rent the place,” I said. “Uncle Butch owns it and I bitch because he won’t fix a damn thing. And if you want to talk about crime, look at my neighborhood. How many homicides do you think South Philly has a year? Probably more in a week than New Bern has in a year. Since Nick’s been in jail I’ve been mugged twice and had the house broken into three times!”
“Yeah, but there’s cops up there, lots of them.”
“Darlene, there are cops everywhere.”
“Sophie, think about it. This is a small town. You’re single. You really want to leave Philly for this?”
I stared at her. She was in the same boat as I was and suddenly she didn’t think New Bern was such a great town? What was this all about?
Like a mind reader, Darlene honed in on me. “Look,” she said, “I moved down here because Ma and Pa retired here. They put on the pressure, the guilt. ‘We’re old,’ they said. ‘Who will take care of us?’ So I came. Why not? I was single. But finding a man here is like winning the lottery. It just doesn’t happen.”
Mr. Wonderful flashed across my mind but I shoved him out. “Good, I’m not looking for a man. Ma and Pa have been after me to move down here, too. Why not? What do I have to lose?”
Maybe I could start over.
Darlene was looking even more anxious. “You don’t have a job,” she said.
“I teach school, Darlene. I can work anywhere. I’ve got all summer to find something, and besides, I’ve got the money Aunt Viv left me when she died. With what this place costs I could buy it and fix it up and still have a little money in the bank.”
Darlene didn’t look convinced.
“Look, Joey moved down with Angela and the kids. That didn’t turn out so bad, did it?”
“That’s different,” she said, pouting.
I got to the heart of the matter then. “Darlene, Nick’s not gonna be in prison much longer. You think I don’t know he’s carrying a grudge? You think he won’t haunt me, trying to make my life a living hell? You think I want to walk down the street every day waiting for the time I round a corner and there he is? Do you think I don’t see the looks on the faces of the people we know? They’re thinking, There’s Sophie, the pervert’s ex-wife. You think I don’t know this and feel it every time I walk out my front door? Darlene, the man took pictures of me naked in the shower. He videotaped us making love and sold copies on the internet for $14.95. It’s not the sort of thing you live down easily.”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell her how they didn’t just look, they yelled, hurling insults and obscenities at me. I didn’t want her to pity me, or worse, to be afraid for me. I was Darlene’s big sister, not a victim to feel sorry for and take care of. Not me.
But Darlene looked sad anyway, like she saw through me, like she was feeling my life and it hurt. Something inside me snapped then, and before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out.
“Even if I wanted to meet somebody, even if I actually met a man up in Philly,” I said, “what are the chances he’s seen those pictures of me? Even if he hasn’t, what chance is there he won’t know who I am? Everybody knows what Nick did, Darlene. I see it in their eyes. I feel dirty even when I’ve just bathed. Can’t you see what I’m telling you, honey?”
Darlene’s eyes filled with unshed tears and she nodded slowly.
“I want something new. Something fresh, where I don’t have to feel ashamed just walking around in my own neighborhood. I don’t want to live in the subdivision with you guys. I don’t want to bust up what you’ve got going with Ma and Pa. I just want to be somewhere where people love me.”
Darlene was crying now. She looked up at the broken-down house and back to me. “Okay,” she said, her voice soft with tears. “I get it. If this is what you want, at least have it inspected. Bring Joey and Pa over—let them check it out, too. And no matter what,” she said, straightening up and becoming her know-it-all self, “don’t pay the asking price. This dump has probably been on the market forever. Lowball ’em.”
I threw my arms around her chunky shoulders and hugged her. “Thanks, honey. Don’t worry. It’ll work out fine, you’ll see.”
We turned away then, walking back toward the car and jabbering away about shutters and paint colors. I was so lost in my new house trance that I almost missed it, the little prickle of awareness that made me look up and stare out ahead of us.
Mr. Wonderful from the chapel stood in the middle of the
