Eleven days later, Diedra leaves her husband, for me.  She moves in with my cousin Phil and his wife Arlene and I don't know who among us is most shocked.

 

    It's a full month before Diedra finds her own apartment.  In the meantime, Diedra lives with me, Phil and Arlene.  Diedra's three kids sleep in sleeping bags on the living room floor.  Diedra sleeps on the living room couch until she is sure all three kids are sound asleep and then Diedra sleeps with me.  Diedra loves me.  Isn't that great?  She keeps telling me she loves me; nobody has ever made her feel this way before and please tell me you won't leave.

 

    I keep telling her I'm not going to leave.  I don't want to go back to Brooklyn and I do love the distraction.  I love the illusion.  Diedra is painting pictures of our lives together and I'm caught up in the painting.  I don't have time to think about my father, or, Theresa, or, anything else.  I don't even have time to think about my life, because Diedra is doing all my thinking for me.

    One Friday night, I don't get home until Four O'Clock Saturday morning.  It's Four in the morning and I'm just walking into the house.  My cousin, Phil, meets me in the kitchen.  He walks up to me with his arms stretched out and his eyes half closed and his fingers wiggling, until they come to rest around my neck.  He playfully starts to strangle me.

 

    "Ben, please tell your friends not to call after ten; okay?"

 

    I'm really surprised to hear that anyone called at all.

 

    "Who called after ten?"

 

    "Koa."

 

    "Koa?"

 

    "Koa."

 

    "That's not possible.  She doesn't know where I am."

 

    "She does now."

 

    "When did she call?"

 

    "Now," he adds, walking towards the fridge.

 

    "I missed her?"

 

    "No."  He stops at the phone and lifts the receiver. "I mean now!  Right now!"

 

    He hands me the phone.

 

    "Koa?"

 

    "Ben?"

 

    "I don't believe this.  How in the world did you get this number?"

 

    "Oh, Ben.  You don't know what I went through.  I've been calling numbers since ten O'clock."

 

    "Koa, that was over six hours ago.  Who the hell did you call?"

 

    "Well, first I called your father, but he wasn't home.  So, then I called Lorraine.  She told me you must have left town.  So, I figured you went to Keene.  You always go to Keene when it's for any length of time.  Weekends are Pennsylvania.  Weeks belong to Keene.  Anyway, I got information for Keene and kept calling for all the Norton's.  There must be 20 Norton's in Keene and none of them are related to you, but I should have known that to begin with.  I mean, it's your mother's family in Keene, not your fathers and I couldn't remember your mother's last name.  So then I tried to remember Shannon's last name-"

 

    "Are you nuts?"  I asked, cutting her off.  "Do you have any idea what your phone bill is going to be?"

 

    "Listen, listen."

 

    Koa is drunk.

 

    Koa has to be drunk.  It's the only logical explanation.

 

    -God!  Why do You keep sticking this woman in front of my face!

 

    "What about the old man you're taking care of?  He's going to die of heart failure when he see's this bill."

 

    Koa laughs.

 

    "He already did.  I'm working in Coney Island, taking care of this old jewish woman.  But I kept the old man's place.  His family asked the landlord if I could keep the apartment and the landlord said yes."

 

    "Melido still with you?"

 

    "He'll never leave."

 

    "So how the hell did you get the number?"

 

    "I reached some family who knew Shannon.  So, I asked them for Shannon's number.  They wanted to know why I wanted it.  So I told them I was trying to reach Ben Norton, from Brooklyn, New York.  I told them it was an emergency.  They told me their daughter, Beverly, had seen you in New Jersey a few months ago.  So, they gave me her number and she gave me Shannon's number and I called Shannon.  I knew you'd keep in touch with Shannon.  Anyway, Shannon gave me the number and told me where you were."

 

    "You're nuts, Koa."

 

    "Yeah, but you're the one in Ohio.  I stay with this old woman, Monday through Friday.  You could come see me.  Melido doesn't know the address.  This old woman keeps trying to feed me Matzoh Ball Soup.  It's good.  She also tries to feed me gefilte fish.  That's some nasty ****.  What are you doing in Ohio?"

 

    "Well, I sort of met a woman.  She's almost as messed up as you.  Her mother left her at an early age and then ended up murdered.  Her father gave her to her grandmother to raise.  She met some guy, fell in love with him and married.  A week before the marriage, an old flame of his returns, but she can't stop him from going through with the marriage.  So, he goes through with it, but cancels the honeymoon, saying there is a work emergency and he's needed.  Three days later, he tells her the truth.  He's seeing an old girl friend that he truly loves and he wants an annulment.  She's floored.  She ends up marrying some guy on the rebound.  She makes babies thinking it'll make her marriage; meets me and leaves her husband."

 

    "You're living with her?"

 

    "No.  But, I feel really guilty about her leaving her old man and she has these panic attacks when I suggest I'm going to leave.  I mean, I don't know.  She keeps insisting she loves me.  She keeps telling me she wants to get a divorce to be with me, but she's not really acting.  Every time she promises to call a lawyer, she finds an excuse to put it off."

 

    "So?  How do you feel about her?"

 

    "I don't really know.  I do like her."

 

    "You ought to leave," Koa says.

 

    "Why?"

 

    "If she was so sure she wanted to be with you, she'd divorce the guy.  If she's not acting, then she's not so sure.  If your out of the picture and she really wants to divorce the guy, then she will.  And if you really mean anything to her, at all; as soon as she gets her divorce, she'll come looking for you."

 

    It wasn't very often, but there were times when Koa made such perfect sense, it was frightening.  I mean, when Koa chose to think, there were times when she was refreshingly stimulating.  Unfortunately, Koa rarely thinks.  Instead, she acts.  If she feels anything at all, it's a blend of fear, anger or shame and it's her emotions that rule, not her brain.  Koa.  The survivor.  Never any better off today, than all her yesterdays combined.

 

    "Good point," I add.

 

    "So, you'll come back to Brooklyn?"

 

    "Yeah.  I'm probably just using Diedra as an excuse to avoid my life, anyway."

 

    "You'll come see me?"

 

    "Is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

 

    "The movie.  I'm so sorry, Ben.  I was just so afraid."

 

    "Forget it," I tell her.  "I did."

 

    Koa laughs.  We talk until six in the morning.  She gives me her phone number and the following week, I quit my job in Cleveland.

 

    The day I quit, I go see Diedra.

 

    She isn't happy with my decision, but I'm thinking again and there isn't anything she can do, or say, to interfere with that.

 

    "You're separated from your husband and swearing to him on a stack of bibles that you're not cheating, but you are.  You've got me working for nothing in a City over 60 miles away and sneaking around like I'm the other woman and you're having the time of your life.  It's not fair, Dee.  You have to make a decision and as long as I'm here, you're just going to keep putting it off."

 

    "Why can't you just stay and have an affair with me!"

 

    "Cause I want a little more out of life."

 

    "But I love you."

 

    I find this difficult to respond to.  I really like Diedra.  There's just something about her, but I don't think she loves me.  Love is a very deep feeling and feelings take time.

 

    "I hope so," I tell her.  "Because if you do, then you won't make of me a reason to end your marriage.  If you're really going to ask Billy for a divorce, then it's because there is something radically wrong with your marriage.  If you're going to end up with me, then, it's because we really love one another, but one thing can't have anything to do with the other."

 

    "I have to go," I add.  "You need to think.  Right now, you're having the time of your life and every one around you is in limbo.  Billy loves you.  You keep telling me he's begging you to come back.  He keeps calling because he needs to know what you're going to do.  You're driving him right out of his mind.  You keep telling me you're going to call a lawyer and file for divorce, but you keep finding reasons to put if off and it's driving me nuts."

 

    "I'll see one tomorrow."   She is crying, now.  "I promise."

 

    "I hope you do, but I'm not staying around because you are.  If you are, I have to know it has nothing to do with my decision to leave.  I care a lot about you, Dee.  I also care a lot about your kids.  If you can't make a decision for yourself, or Billy, then make it for your kids, Dee.  Your kids are in limbo, too and they're the ones that are suffering most of all."

 

    Diedra throws her arms around me.  She's crying and a part of me wants to do the same, but the tears won't come.  There's nothing here for me to cry about.  There's only my guilt and her fears.  We sit, wrapped in each other's arms for a good hour and then I leave.  I go back to Phil and Arlene's.  I pack my bags.  Sometime after dinner, my car turns East on I80 and for the first time in seven months, I'm on my way back to New York.

 

    I walk into the house at three A.M.

 

 

    My father isn't home.

 

    I call my sister the following morning.

 

    "He's in the hospital, Ben.  Where the hell have you been?"