Did I Say You Could Go

by Melanie Gideon

  Hillside was one of the few schools in the East Bay that was K-12.

  “Well, you did. It’s beautiful. And the food was amazing. The wine, too. I’m so appreciative.”

  Ruth smiled at her and Gemma had the sensation of being bathed in light. The lucky recipient of Ruth Thorne’s intense focus. Often, Gemma felt starved for attention. Her days were spent attending to kids and their needy parents, and then when she came home, Bee.

  “You’re empathetic. I knew you’d be. Sometimes you can tell that immediately about someone. That they have a huge heart,” said Ruth.

  Gemma felt like an imposter. She didn’t have a huge heart, at least not indiscriminately. She had a huge heart for people she loved, people who had earned it, who had put in the time and been loyal, but not strangers. She could, in fact, be very cold.

  “I think we’re going to be great friends,” said Ruth.

  Later, when Bee and Gemma were preparing to go, Marley tugged at Gemma’s sleeve and whispered, “I have a dad.”

  * * *

  Now, looking at Ruth’s text a decade later, Gemma realizes how much she’s missed Ruth and Marley. Their foursome. How could she have turned her back on them like that? She remembers Ruth begging her to help smooth things over with the Barry Egan debacle. Gemma was a popular mom and Bee was a popular kid. If anybody could have rehabilitated Ruth’s reputation, it was Gemma. Instead she’d slowly iced Ruth out. The truth was she’d used Mr. Mann as an emergency exit door. Gemma had been looking for an excuse to put some distance between them for a while.

  The dynamic between their two families had always been somewhat strained. They each had something the other didn’t have. Ruth and Marley, outsiders from the first day, were dependent on their friendship with the Howards to give them social capital. And Gemma, she’s ashamed to admit, grew dependent on Ruth’s generosity.

  Gemma had positioned Study Right as the community alternative. She was a proselytizer of equal-access test prep. For every rich parent who paid full freight there was another parent she didn’t charge a dime. That meant they lived a good, middle-class life. They didn’t have extra but they had enough.

  Then Ruth came along. Beneficent, let me take care of it Ruth. When she’d needed a new roof, Ruth stepped in to help. When she discovered thousands of tiny wings all over her basement floor, Ruth paid for the termite remediation. There were Christmas vacations in Aspen. VIP tickets to shows and concerts. Gemma grew addicted to a kind of life she’d never have been able to afford on her own.

  But as the years went by, Gemma couldn’t shake the feeling that she was accruing an increasingly unpayable debt. And when Mr. Mann came along, Gemma was relieved to have a reason to drift away.

  And now here she was, the tables turned, a pariah, afraid to go out in public, and who had come to her defense offering friendship, a hearty meal, forgiveness—Ruth.

  Gemma didn’t deserve it. No, she did not.

  She texts Ruth. We’d love to!!!

  RUTH

  “Labor Day is still two weeks away. Is it just me or does it seem like Hillside starts earlier and earlier every year?” asks Gemma. She smiles warmly at the girls. “You guys are going to be freshmen. How did that happen?”

  Bee rolls her eyes. “First years, not freshmen, and it happened because three thousand one hundred and twenty-seven days have gone by, give or take a day or two.”

  “You just calculated that in your head?” asks Ruth, trying not to stare. She hasn’t seen Bee in a long time. She smells of patchouli and vanilla. She’s filled out, a B cup, Ruth decides. The lace strap of her chartreuse Free People bralette is showing. Marley could never wear a bralette. She’s a C cup, moving steadily to a D.

  “Are you taking geometry this year?” Marley asks Bee.

  “Yeah,” says Bee.

  “Me too,” says Marley.

  Gemma’s face is flushed from Ruth’s favorite Sancerre, Les Belles Vignes from the Loire Valley. Ruth doubts Gemma is tasting the gooseberry, straw, and flint notes. She’s drinking for volume, not palate. She’s tossed back two glasses already and is on her third; she’s nervous.

  “You were always so good at math,” Ruth lies, wondering how the hell Bee wrangled her way into the advanced class. Bee’s smart enough, but her real gift is in the social sphere. People are naturally drawn to her. She oozes charisma, always has.

  Ruth glances over at Marley, who is also flushed and also nervous. Her head is cocked to one side like an obedient puppy. What is the opposite of charismatic? Invisible? That’s Marley. Ruth raises her eyebrows at her daughter, trying to telegraph that she should sit up straight and stop acting so submissive. There’s an air of desperation about her. The way she looks at Bee, as if she’s honored to be in her presence.

  “Did you see the new Avengers? Tom Holland—omg,” says Bee to Marley.

  All this surface talk—it’s excruciating. Not addressing Study Right has sapped all the oxygen from the room and has them blabbering on about math classes and superheroes.

  Gemma clears her throat. “Okay, this is awkward so let’s just talk about it and get it out of the way. I’m sure you’re both aware of what’s going on with Study Right.” Gemma chews on her lower lip. “Well, honestly, it’s been—terrible.”

  Ruth waits. Is that all she’s going to say? Is she going to extrapolate? Explain herself? No, she’s fighting back tears.

  Ruth throws her a lifeline. “It’s not your fault. You had no idea this was going on.”

  Gemma’s face looks melted, like candle wax just before it hardens. “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”

  “Of course you didn’t. Anybody who knows you knows how honest you are. How much integrity you have.”

  Ruth lets her statement sit there for a moment. Gemma dabs at her face with her napkin.

  Marley looks at her mother with do something eyes.

  Ruth pushes back her chair and walks around the table. She crouches down at Gemma’s feet and gently puts a hand on her leg. “It’ll pass, I promise you. A week from now, two weeks tops, nobody will be talking about you. Your clients will come back once this blows over, and if they don’t you’ll get new ones.”

  Gemma sniffles. “You’re such a good friend. I’ve missed you so much, you don’t know how much. I don’t deserve you.”

  No, you don’t, thinks Ruth, but it’s time to move forward. “I’ll always be here for you. And for you, too,” she says to Bee.

  “Will you come to my fifteenth birthday party?” Bee asks Marley.

  Marley smiles. “I’d love to.” And Ruth thinks, Marley is going to Bee’s birthday party!

  “And how about Thanksgiving? Can you guys come over for Thanksgiving?” asks Gemma. “Please say yes. Puleeze.”

  Thanksgiving, too? Oh, my! The Howards have swung the door wide open.

  “What do you think, Marls?” Ruth asks.

  “That sounds great.”

  “Well, okay,” says Ruth, rising to her feet. “We’ve got a date for Thanksgiving. Now, who’s up for dessert? Mango Lime Chiffon Cake from Katrina Rozelle?”

  “What? Really?” says Gemma.

  It’s her favorite. When they were friends, Ruth would buy her a Mango Lime Chiffon Cake for every birthday. She probably hasn’t had one for 1,825 days, give or take a day. Ruth can do sums in her head, too.

  “Can you ever forgive me?” asks Gemma.

  “Don’t be silly, there’s nothing to forgive. We’re such good friends. Look at us. Just picking up right where we left off.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Ruth is on her way to her Pilates class when Gemma calls, her voice shaking. “I just blew the head gasket in my car!”

  “The head gasket? What’s that?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I think it functions as a kind of seal. The engine seized. That’s what they told me.”

  “Where are you? Are you all right?”

  “I’m at a gas station. I haven’t changed my oil in ages. Apparently, it’s be
en leaking for months. This is all my fault. I stopped paying attention. How could I not have noticed?”

  “Stop that. I won’t allow you to blame this on yourself. You’ve had so much going on.”

  “I just dropped Bee off at the Juicery…” Gemma’s voice tapers off. She sounds distant, lost.

  “What can I do? How can I help?”

  “I don’t know. I guess, can you come pick me up?”

  Ruth looks at the time; it’s 9:42. Her class starts at ten. She hates to miss it. It’s a vital part of her self-care routine. But Gemma really needs her.

  “Of course I will,” she says. “Text me the address.”

  Gemma groans. “The mechanic said I might need a new engine.”

  “Maybe it’s time to get a new car.”

  “I can’t afford a new car.”

  Ruth pauses. “I can.”

  * * *

  Gemma won’t accept a new car from Ruth, so Ruth buys her a used Camry with only 16,000 miles on it. Definitely an upgrade.

  “I’ll pay you back, I promise,” says Gemma. “Let’s work out a monthly plan.”

  “There’s no need. This is a drop in the bucket for me, you know that. I would never expect repayment.”

  Oh, the look of gratitude and relief that crosses Gemma’s face; Ruth wishes she could take a picture so she’ll never forget it. Instead she gazes at Gemma intently, copying the image to her internal hard drive.

  GEMMA

  That afternoon, Gemma pulls into the driveway, gets out of the car, and texts Bee.

  Come out here. I have a surprise!

  A few seconds later, Bee opens the front door, and Gemma waves her arm in front of the car like a game show host. “Ta-da!”

  Bee claps a hand over her mouth in shock. The Camry is a year old but looks like it just came off the lot. It’s a metallic red—a color called Ruby Flare Pearl. It’s loaded with every option.

  “What did you do with the old car?”

  “Traded it in, silly.”

  “Why?”

  “It was on its last legs.”

  “It was?” Bee looks skeptical. Gemma has no intention of telling her that Ruth bought the new car for them because she nearly blew their old car up.

  Gemma opens the driver’s-side door. “Get in, I’ll show you all the bells and whistles.”

  Bee climbs into the car. “Is this real leather?” She touches the armrest reverently and inhales. “It smells brand-new.”

  “Put your foot on the brake and press that button,” instructs Gemma. The car purrs.

  “You can barely hear it,” says Bee in awe. The touch screen lights up. “Bluetooth!”

  They needed this so badly. Something new and shiny amidst all the broken things in their life. Gemma texts Ruth. She LOVES it!!!

  Yay! Ruth texts back.

  Gemma frowns, wondering how best to explain to Ruth that she’s decided not to tell Bee that Ruth bought the car for them; it’s too humiliating.

  Don’t tell her I was involved. There’s no need. Just say the transmission was acting up and it was cheaper to trade it in than fix it. It’ll be our little secret, texts Ruth.

  A chill runs down Gemma’s back; it’s as if Ruth read her mind. They are completely in sync. It was that way between them before, too. They knew what the other was thinking before they even said it.

  Are you sure? I don’t want to deprive you of being properly thanked for saving the day!!

  You already thanked me. Just think of me as your own private Santa. But remember, Santa knows when you’re naughty or nice hahaha.

  Huh?

  “We can take it to back-to-school night!” says Bee.

  Hillside’s back-to-school night is Friday; Gemma had completely forgotten. Everybody will be there. All the moms and dads. All the kids. Many of them clients, past and present. Does she have to go? Can she call in sick? Her phone pings.

  What say we go to back-to-school night together?

  RUTH

  Back-to-school night is just as stressful a prospect for Ruth as it is for Gemma, but she has no intention of showing it.

  She’ll waltz in there with her head held high, back slightly arched to show off her hard-won SoulCycle bum, wearing her size 26 J Brands and her No. 6 clog booties, which are practically passé in New York but still completely on trend in the Bay Area. Hair down or up? Messy bun, she decides. Light on the makeup. Her skin is translucent from her weekly snail mucus masks.

  She’s dressing for the school moms. They may still despise her but they won’t be able to take their eyes off of her. Their contempt for her goes way back, before Mr. Mann, to the kindergarten party.

  * * *

  By the time the twentieth partygoer had walked through the door, the corners of their mouths twitching with amusement, Ruth knew she’d made a fatal mistake hosting the kindergarten meet and greet. Instead of appearing generous and thoughtful, she’d come off as tone-deaf. Worse, as flaunting her wealth.

  The mothers showered her in passive-aggressive compliments.

  “I never would have thought to have a valet. What a lovely touch.”

  “Your backyard is like Central Park! Nobody has a backyard this big.”

  Ruth retreated to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and pretended to rifle through it. She overheard two mothers talking.

  “A signature cocktail? Are you kidding me?”

  “She’s gorgeous, though, you have to give her that. Those arms. How many days a week in Pilates?”

  “My arms would look like that, too, if I had nothing to do but arrange flowers and book caterers.”

  “I hear her ex is loaded. Guess he didn’t have a prenup.”

  Ruth’s cheeks blazed with heat. Why did she insist on hosting the party? She could have just shown up with Marley at somebody else’s house, a tray of Costco cookies in her hands, wearing a pair of cropped jeans and flip-flops.

  “Excuse me, you wouldn’t happen to have any milk?”

  Ruth shut the fridge door and turned around slowly, carefully composing her features into a neutral expression. This was one of the mothers she’d just overheard talking about her.

  “I’m Madison Harris. My daughter Coco doesn’t like juice. Too sweet.”

  Was this woman really humblebragging about her daughter turning up her nose at Capri Suns? Ruth poured a glass of milk and handed it to her.

  “Thanks!” She sailed across the room to her child.

  Marley sat behind the kids’ food table on a folding chair. She was reading a book, something Ruth told her expressly not to do, but Ruth wouldn’t call her out. The two of them outcasts. On day one, no less.

  Then, a mother and daughter appeared at the front door, the look on the woman’s face open and expectant. And her daughter. That red tracksuit! Those curls!

  There was no father in sight.

  Ruth studied the woman and was soon filled with certainty. There she was—her future BFF. Ruth felt jolted awake at the sight of her. A sensation of being Tased, tendrils of electricity sparking across the room, connecting them. Ruth saw Madison notice the new mother, too. Her eyes lit up with interest and Ruth bolted across the room so she could get there first.

  The woman was a lottery prize, just waiting to be claimed.

  * * *

  Ruth’s phone rings. Gemma. She’s not a lottery prize any longer.

  “You need to help me. I don’t know what to wear to back-to-school night,” she whines. “I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. Like I’m desperate to please. And I don’t want to look like I’m not trying enough. Like I haven’t gotten out of my pajamas all week. I have to strike the right balance. Something that says I’m sorry for all this mess and yet I’m not responsible for all this mess. You know?”

  “Skinny jeans. That emerald J.Crew blouse with the white trim. Do you still have it?”

  “Um, yeah, I haven’t worn it in a while but I think it’s in the back of the closet. What about shoes?”

  “Flats. Me
tallic if you’ve got them, gold or silver. Black will be fine if you don’t. What do you have for necklaces?”

  “Not much. Some costume stuff. A gold cross.”

  “Hmm. It needs to be understated, a little Zen, but not too bohemian. Labradorite. I’ve got just the thing. I’ll bring it.”

  “Oh, God. What do I say to everybody?”

  “You say hello, how was your summer, nice to see you, can you believe the kids are in high school, blabblety-blab-blab-blab. Under no circumstances do you bring up Study Right. Just pretend it’s business as usual.”

  “But what if somebody asks me?”

  “They won’t.”

  “But what if they do?”

  “Then you let me deal with it,” says Ruth.

  * * *

  Madison rushes Gemma as they approach the auditorium. “Omg, are you okay?”

  Ruth looks down at her icily. Why must grown women talk in acronyms? Her three-inch clog booties make her nearly six feet tall. “Of course she is, why wouldn’t she be?”

  Madison gives her a dirty look. “I was talking to Gemma.”

  “I’m fine, Mads,” says Gemma.

  “I’ve been meaning to call,” says Madison. “I read that article in the Chron. Fifty percent? It’s not true, is it? If you want I’ll sign Coco up right now for tutoring.”

  Madison’s eyes grow moist at the thought of her selfless act.

  “That’s not necessary. We’re doing just fine,” says Gemma. She turns to Ruth. “Let’s go in. I want to get a good seat.”

  * * *

  Ruth does a quick scan of the auditorium. Most of the kids are sitting in the back. She spies Marley and Bee, heads bent over their phones. The rest of the rows are filled with parents. They laugh and hug each other. How was your summer? Gosh, Tahoe was buggy this year. Tyler looks like he grew six inches! But their steely eyes betray them, they’re readying for the race. Now it begins. Now everything counts. That’s what they’re all thinking.