by Kaela Coble
We get off the bus and Ruby hugs all of us. Me, because it’s me; Steph, because you have to hug the bride, even if you’ve only met her once before; and Elizabeth and Krystal, probably because she doesn’t want to be rude, although those hugs are awkward. Elizabeth is surprised by it, and Krystal makes a big show of hugging back with both arms, like the two of them are the best of friends, even though Krystal has decided to hate Ruby just like every girl Murphy dated in high school did.
Ruby takes my luggage, even though it’s a rolling suitcase and I’m perfectly capable of handling it. We cross the street after waiting like ten hours for the pedestrian light to give us the go-ahead. We have a couple of lights like this in the busier intersections of Chatwick, but no one uses them. When there’s two lanes of traffic instead of these six, it’s pretty easy to tell for yourself when you have enough time to cross. Ruby hails a cab without breaking conversation, and I can’t help but feel a little proud of her. I remember her being kind of awkward, especially in groups of girls. She was always quiet and let others take the lead, except when she and Emmett would get into it about politics, or whatever smarty-pants shit they were talking about. Here she smiles a lot, she leads us around like it’s nothing, and she chatters with us excitedly about our trip and our plans for the weekend. Her eyes shine. Her skin glows. I don’t know if it’s because she’s older and more confident or if New York brings out the best in her. Maybe there’s something about the grey of everything that makes her more colorful. At any rate, I’m starting to rethink my opinion that Ruby has stayed away so long just to be stubborn and prove us all wrong.
After a terrifying cab ride to a place she tells the driver is called Murray Hill (I don’t know if that’s the name of her building or what; I thought we were in Manhattan?), we are finally at her apartment. She apologizes once for every flight of stairs we have to carry our luggage up (so about seven times). It’s amazing that in New York City they haven’t heard of elevators. Isn’t it a law that you have to have them in buildings with multiple stories? How do handicapped people get around in this city? It’s hard enough just being pregnant and having to hike up all these stairs. Now I see why Ruby has designated herself as my bellhop, and I’m grateful for it.
She shows us into her apartment, which she’s decorated with streamers and balloons and a lot of penis paraphernalia. Steph is excited, and I can tell she feels special that Ruby went to the effort. It’s weird, Ruby’s never before shown any signs of her mother’s homemaking skills, which is fine, because that means she hasn’t shown signs of her mother’s crazy, either. I remember Ruby’s birthday parties growing up: there was always a theme and her mother would make these elaborate cakes and decorations. It was the one thing Nancy could be counted on, to make a big deal of her children on their birthdays. More birthdays than not, anyway.
Some of that must have stuck to Ruby. Not only did she go all out with the bachelorette decorations, but underneath all the fluorescent crepe paper and penises there’s a pretty decent apartment, decorated simply and comfortably. Unlike her mother’s house, there are no pink flowers or girly prints of any kind, but it’s clean and cozy and well lit and there are a couple of throw pillows and blankets. There are no dishes in the sink or cockroaches on the floor or rats scurrying through, so right away it’s more than I was expecting. (Tidiness was never Ruby’s strong suit as a teen. I suspect being messy was her way of rebelling, since she didn’t drink much. Well, being messy and her whole Hardy Crane phase.)
The place isn’t huge, but there’s a decent living space with a small, modern kitchen and bathroom. I’m surprised at the second bedroom, as from what I hear it’s impossible to afford a two-bedroom apartment in this city. Ruby explains that her sister lives here on and off when she’s not traveling for her job. Coral is a photographer, and I guess her work is kind of unpredictable but pays well enough when she can get it that she can afford to pay rent at a place she doesn’t actually live. Must be nice. Right now I think she’s in Argentina. Or Armenia. One of those.
I put my things in Ruby’s room. We worked out ahead of time that I would sleep in her bed, because she knows me best. Then Steph and Krystal and Elizabeth will sleep in the spare room on either the double bed or the small blow-up mattress that looks brand-new; Ruby must have purchased it for our stay. I get the feeling she hasn’t had visitors before, and I wonder for the first time what her New York friends are like. Does she have a tight group of friends like the crew? Is there a New York version of an Ally, an Emmett, a Danny? Or does she keep to herself, without anyone forcing her not to? I can’t decide which scenario makes me more sad.
I pick up a picture on her nightstand of her and a man I don’t recognize. He’s handsome in a nerdy kind of way, glasses and all. I show it to her. “Holding out on me?” I ask. It would be just like Ruby to have a boyfriend all this time and not tell anyone about him.
She shakes her head. “That’s Jamie.”
I remember the name. He’s the reason she stayed in London, although she said it was for “a job opportunity.” He’s the reason she wasn’t home for my wedding.
“That was actually taken last year, I spent Christmas with his family in Bloomsbury.”
“Didn’t you guys break up when you moved back to the States? That was at least two years ago.”
“Yeah,” she shrugs. “We’re still friends. He’s kinda my best friend, actually.”
I look at her like I’m always looking at her, like she’s got snakes coming out of her ears. But that answers my question. If Ruby’s best friend is an ex-boyfriend who lives on another continent, how happy can she really be here?
“Just because Jamie and I didn’t work as a couple, it doesn’t mean we don’t care about each other. Besides, I’ve done enough cutting people out of my life simply because they’ve hurt me.”
“Or sometimes for no reason at all,” I say before I can think. She winces. “I’m sorry,” I say, even though I’m not. Not really.
“It’s okay.” She starts to say something else, but our conversation is interrupted by the girls in the spare bedroom. Krystal “calls” the bed, but Elizabeth points out that Steph should get first pick because she’s the bride, and Steph is trying not to piss either of them off by pretending not to care. These girls. I wonder if Ruby had never left town and the two of us still hung out all the time, would we still act like we were in high school?
“Do you need anything before I turn out the light?” Ruby asks. It wakes me up. We only got back to Ruby’s place about twenty minutes ago, but I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I actually fell asleep in the cab on the ride home, despite Krystal and Steph screaming the lyrics to an old Britney Spears song at the top of their lungs. I must have gone deaf and passed out. Or maybe it’s just the weekend that’s exhausting me. Cities are tiring enough as it is with all the walking, but being pregnant is a whole other ball of facts.
I hate to say it, but I can’t wait to go home tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong. It’s been fun, and Ruby’s been great. She took us to this restaurant last night where you sit on the floor and eat with your hands, which was . . . different, although the baby didn’t seem to enjoy the food. Then to see Mamma Mia on Broadway, which was really fun. She says she got the tickets free from a “hookup at work.” I don’t know if she meant a connection from one of her advertising clients or a coworker she’s hooking up with. When I asked, she just giggled like I had told a joke. Either way, it was nice to do something where I could sit down and not feel left out because I can’t drink. I think Ruby planned this on purpose because of me, which was nice of her.
Even though I’ve known her all my life, there have been times this weekend when I feel like I’m getting to know Ruby right along with Steph and Elizabeth and Krystal. Who knew she was such a considerate person? I mean, she’s always been nice and friendly to people, at least until they give her a reason not to be. And I remember she was always good about offering to share. Like if she was using lip gloss or eating gu
m, she would always offer it to me, too. And we almost always shared cigs, even if we had more than one. There was something about the passing of it back and forth that made us feel connected, I think. Like with each puff we were taking on a bit of the other’s pain—the fight she escaped from at home, the worry that Aaron would cheat on me like my dad always did on my mom. Damn, I miss smoking.
Today we went shopping, which was a huge ordeal. Krystal insisted on going to stores like Prada and Manolo Blahnik, just to say she’d been there, but we would get in there and the sales associates would give us the stink-eye because we’re so obviously not rich, making us all feel like shit. Then Krystal would shout about how expensive everything was, making us all embarrassed to be seen with her. She also insisted on taking pictures in front of the signs of each store and every landmark we went to afterward, and she would always ask Ruby to take the pictures, like it was a Chatwick girls’ trip and Ruby was the tour guide instead of part of our group. Ruby didn’t complain, but by the end of the day I could see the little wrinkles around her lips that mean she’s irritated.
I don’t know what’s gotten into Krystal, either. I mean, she’s always a bit much, but you’d think she was the bride this weekend with the amount of attention she’s demanding. For example, at lunch Steph asked Ruby to tell the mushroom story again, which was a big hit. Everyone’s laughing, even me, who’s not only heard it before but actually lived it, and Krystal cuts in and starts talking about how she knows what we mean about Murphy’s deep sleep, and how she practically has to slap him awake “every morning,” (as if that was the point of the story). Steph and I make eyes at each other; we know very well she doesn’t live at Murphy’s, and as far as we know she only sleeps over on the nights he can’t find anyone else to take home from Margie’s. But for the rest of the day, it was Murphy this and Murphy that. “Oh, Murphy would love that shirt, I have to go in and get it for him,” and “Murphy told me he loves it when I wear black, so I really want to find a sexy black dress for the rehearsal dinner.” It’s like since Murphy’s out of earshot, she’s given herself free rein to pretend he’s her boyfriend. But trust me, she is a girl playing make-believe. Murphy hasn’t settled down with anyone since Taylor, and if you ask me he never really settled down with her, either, if you know what I mean. And Krystal? He’s just using her for sex. I’m not saying it’s right, but it seems to be their understanding.
It’s obvious Krystal (like every girl who’s ever been dumb enough to like Murphy) feels threatened by Ruby, and hearing that they slept on the trampoline together probably triggered her competitive instinct. It’s funny because, even though we all wondered if something more was going on between the two of them, them sleeping on the trampoline together was the one thing that didn’t raise a red flag. The real couples always took the bedrooms (for privacy), and Ruby and Murphy slept outside where anyone could see them. Plus, they were on a squeaky trampoline. We would have heard if something was going on.
But this is what’s always happened between Ruby and Murphy and their significant others. I can’t say I blame people for getting jealous when the person they’re dating is on the phone with someone else of the opposite sex for hours on end. Even though Ruby was always overly nice to Murphy’s girlfriends, some of them would draw the line with Murphy. It was them or Ruby. Most of the time he dumped them. Sometimes, if the girl had particularly large breasts, things would get chilly between him and Ruby for a few weeks. But that never lasted. Part of the reason Murphy and Taylor lasted so long is because Ruby moved away and stopped talking to all of us. Ruby’s boyfriends didn’t stand a chance, either, with Murphy being so “protective” of her. He would either get all Puffy-Chested Tough Guy about it or freeze the guy out entirely. He used to say if they weren’t man enough to stand up to him, they weren’t strong enough to handle a girl like Ruby, and it was better she find out sooner, so she didn’t get hurt. The one guy who did stand up to him was Hardy, and we all know what good that did her.
So anyway Ruby did a good job at being super-polite with Krystal, but her lips got more and more wrinkly as the day went on. By the time we got to the male strip club where she had reserved us a table, she was drinking double vodka tonics. She didn’t have a lot of them, but as she sipped I couldn’t help but think of Nancy rattling the ice in her glass, to scare up every last trace of alcohol after a particularly hard day.
Now I know this might sound bad, but when Ruby went to the bathroom, she left her phone on the table next to mine, and when it vibrated I picked it up. For the record, I thought it was mine at first. But when the notification said, “Text Message from Jamie Wells,” I pressed the button to open it before I could stop myself. It said, “Reading Steinbeck and thinking of the time we had a row over his merits. Years later, I’m finally giving him a second chance. You were right, it’s gorgeous. Xoxo J.” Best friends, my ass. Like she and Murphy were best friends? It’s like she has a permanent blind spot for the men in her life.
Tonight was less fun for me, not that it matters. Steph had a great time, and that’s what matters, stuffing singles into G-strings and getting lap dances. But do you know how weird it feels to be pregnant in a strip club? From the looks I was getting, I felt like a hooker in church. I kept trying to cover my swollen belly with my coat, but it still didn’t feel right. So when Ruby asks me if I need anything, all I can think is that I want to be at home. Not the home that exists now, but the one I had before Danny died, when I had a husband who loved and trusted me, who was excited to bring the baby growing inside me into this world. And because I’m exhausted, and because it’s Ruby, I tell her that’s what I want.
Ruby isn’t facing me, but her posture slumps. She hangs her head, and then rests it in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Al,” she says.
I roll up to my elbow and reach out to touch her back. She gives a little start. She doesn’t like being touched unexpectedly, even now. “Thank you, but it’s not your fault,” I say.
She nods and turns to me. “Yes, it is.” I watch her, not understanding, as she opens the drawer to her nightstand and pulls out the envelope labeled “Ruby” in Danny’s handwriting. “It’s my fault,” she says, “because I think Danny mixed up our secrets.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
RUBY
Back then
Today is a day I’m supposed to feel happy, accomplished, joyful, hopeful. At the very least proud.
I feel nothing.
After the ceremony, my friends gather behind the gymnasium for group pictures in our caps and gowns. I smile through gritted teeth at the other end of the row from Murphy, who gets to enjoy this day. Then Taylor, who sat with the Leblancs during the ceremony, jumps into the photo session as if she’s been a part of the crew all along. I step out of frame, letting myself get swallowed up in a sea of cheap green polyester. For a moment I stand in the same spot where Murphy told me only weeks earlier, as we stood in the rain in a gown and a tuxedo, that I was beautiful.
Each of us has our own family graduation celebration before we’re supposed to meet up at Tara’s house later for the big party. My parents and Coral and I are going to Rick’s Seafood for dinner, and that leaves a few hours to kill. I can’t decide if it’s worse to be alone with my thoughts or endure the exhaustion of pretending I’m happy for my family’s sake.
At home, Nancy hands me a card with Murphy’s name on it and instructs me to run it over to his house. I hold it up to the light. There’s money in it. Nancy is sending me to the boy who broke my heart with a cash reward in hand. Because he’s “part of the family.” Meaning: he was the one who was there for me when my parents weren’t. Also meaning: he would sometimes carry Nancy to bed after she passed out on the kitchen floor, and was polite enough never to bring it up again.
I could refuse, or even pop it in the mail, but as much as I hate Murphy, I want to see him, too. I want him to see me and feel awkward because I’m there. I want him to feel the same discomfort I feel, as if he could even handle it. I want him to
have a chance to realize he made a mistake.
I pull up to see Murphy’s entire family, including his extended family from Quebec, milling around the yard. Murphy’s back is to me, playing volleyball with his cousins, occasionally hollering out a swear word in French to make the younger ones giggle. Before I can take so much as a step toward him, Taylor spots me. She waves enthusiastically and then bounds up to me like she hadn’t just seen me hours ago.
“Ruby! I’m so glad you’re here. Everyone’s speaking French, and I have no idea what they’re saying.” She lowers her voice. “I think they might be talking about me.”
My annoyance at her presence softens. It isn’t her fault what Murphy’s done, as much as I want to blame it on her. If anything, I’m the one to blame. “I know how you feel. I used to think that, too. But it’s more likely they’re talking about snowmobiling or hunting.” I somehow manage the energy to smile.
She exhales, relieved, and then a light bulb seems to come on. “Murphy said you weren’t coming,” she says.
“Oh, I can’t stay. My mom just wanted me to drop this off to him.” I wave the envelope.