“And he’s really hot,” Austin says with a laugh. “Or at least you’ll think so. Actually, I didn’t like him at first.”
“You didn’t?” Mom and Aunt Jenna say together.
“I didn’t either,” Uncle Jimmy says.
“Why?” we all ask.
“He’s one of those silent and suspicious guys,” Uncle Jimmy explains, and I instantly imagine a serial killer.
Austin nods, and I wonder why we’re having this long conversation about the yard boy when we’ve just arrived at our new house.
“He didn’t talk a lot. But then once you’re around him awhile, he’s really great.”
Aunt Jenna closes the car door. “Something tragic happened in his family, I heard. I don’t know what.”
That makes everyone quiet until Mac yells from the house, “Hey, I got the green room with the secret closet, right?”
“Yes, Mac,” Mom says, and we start moving toward the house, finally. “And sorry, Ruby, but your room is still a mess.”
“Which room did I end up with?” I glance at the apartment over the garage that’s Carson’s room, the one I wanted.
Aunt Betty used to rent it out to college students. It has a small kitchen and an old cast-iron bathtub and walk-in tile shower. I’m counting the years till Carson moves out. Kate and I might stay there when we go to college.
We walk through the garage and into the small kitchen with the new, light-colored granite that brightens up the dark wood cabinets and tile floor. “Wow, this looks nice.”
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Mom smiles proudly. “And your room has newly refinished floors. We thought you’d want Aunt Betty’s, since it has its own bathroom and the little balcony.”
“It does? Sweet,” I say. “My memories are of a flower infusion and the smell of old lady and wet dog.”
Mom knows I can’t stand bad smells. There’s a restaurant back home that smells so strongly of fish, I can’t walk in the door. And I’m not completely opposed to fish usually.
“We took down the old wallpaper and painted it. It doesn’t smell like wet dog anymore, and only slightly of old lady.” Mom smiles. “Just kidding. It smells of paint and floor lacquer, but that’ll clear out soon.” Now Mom has her convincing expression and twinkle in her blue eyes—Everything is going to be okay, you’ll see. “We’ll have gas for the furnace and phone and Internet access tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” A panic rises in my chest as we stand in the kitchen between boxes. I need to get online tonight. Where is my phone charger?
“We all might sleep in the living room tonight, by the fireplace. It gets pretty cold at night. Aunt Jenna and Uncle Jimmy are staying over too. It’ll be a slumber party.”
Mac somehow overhears this from upstairs and yells, “Slumber party! Slumber party!”
“Great,” I say dully. Why did we come down tonight instead of staying in Cottonwood if the house wasn’t ready? Or I could’ve stayed at Kate’s. Then I would’ve been at the movies with everyone and heard Nick’s admission in person. Though he may have said it only because I’m gone.
Mom goes upstairs to join Aunt Jenna and Mac in his room, and the men have retreated back to the garage to put things together. The sounds of my family fade beneath the dull silence of the house. It’s cold and empty and smells of paint and that strange mustiness of homes near the ocean.
I see a framed Monet print sitting on the floor by the cold fireplace, propped against the wall. It’s the garden scene in hues of blue that hung in the house we lived in for ten years. The house we lived in with Dad and Mom together. Now it’s going to hang in Aunt Betty’s house.
Suddenly everything feels awkward, and a shiver goes down my spine. I wonder where Dad is right now, and how soon until Carson arrives. Maybe he and I can take a drive tonight, go to Dutch Bros. or explore the winding hillside roads that connect the towns of Marin. To our west is San Francisco Bay; our little town of Corte Madera climbs up the mountain, and on the other side of the peak is the wide Pacific. South is the Golden Gate and San Francisco, and north is Santa Rosa and the California wine country. I think of this and imagine exploring the roads and ocean inlets. Carson needs to hurry up and get here.
My friends said I was lucky to move from Cottonwood to Aunt Betty’s old house in Marin. I agreed. But as I ascend the steps to my new bedroom with a coldness going deep into my skin, I wonder if this move is really so great after all.
I carry my phone up the narrow stairway to Aunt Betty’s room—my room—which is off to the right at the top of the stairs. The rest of the rooms go toward the left, so that’s another plus—a bit of privacy at this end of the house, no one complaining about my music being too loud the way they did at the rented house we’ve stayed in since the divorce.
Standing in the entrance of my new domain, which is bigger than I remember, I look over the hardwood floors. They do shine nicely. The plaster walls look better with a cream-colored paint. The ceiling has thick dark wood and beams, a perfect place for strings of lights or paper lanterns. With all the boxes, it’s a maze to walk through. My full-sized mattress is in the corner, up against the wall. It reminds me of a room you might see in one of those old movies Mom and I like to watch—Casablanca or something. That makes me like it better.
Mom said I could bring the old phonograph to my room, and I imagine painting on the balcony with the grainy sounds of a Billie Holiday record playing in the background. Aunt Betty’s massive rolltop desk is in one corner. I’d forgotten about it. It too fits the 1940s classic feel. I have to use two hands to lift the cover, but then it slides easily back. A note and new journal rest on the smooth wood desktop.
To my dear Ruby, the new occupant of my beloved room.
Dream big dreams! Work hard to attain them! Look how even an old woman like me can have dreams come true. By the time you read this, I will be dancing in Madrid with Herbert.
See you in a few months.
Hasta la vista—
Aunt Betty
Beneath the note is an article Mom wrote for a singles magazine. She writes so many articles, I didn’t even know she’d written one about Aunt Betty. It’s titled “Love in Cyberspace” and is about Internet matchmaking success stories. The main photograph is of Aunt Betty with Herbert kissing her cheek.
I imagine feisty Aunt Betty on her long honeymoon with Herbert—Uncle Herbert, as he’s now officially named. Uncle Herbert appeared to be about as exciting as a zombie. But then he surprised everyone at their wedding when he and Aunt Betty performed a perfect and impressive tango.
Right now they might be dancing at a fiesta with Aunt Betty wearing a flowery old-lady hat—who wears things like that anymore? Aunt Betty does.
I hear Mac calling me from downstairs. He calls and calls even after I respond with a “What?” Finally he races up and into my room.
“We’re having a campout in the living room!”
“Yes, and for a ten-year-old, this is the best thing in the world.”
“You don’t think it’s fun? Austin’s going to get Chinese food and stuff to make s’mores in the fireplace.”
“Oh yeah, I’m stoked,” I lie.
“It’ll be like when we went camping at Patrick’s Point.”
“Except that we’re in a house, and we won’t be cooking over a campfire or walking on the beach at night. And we don’t have Dad or Carson.”
“Yeah,” he says, and the fun fizzles right out of his expression, which makes me feel the big g-u-i-l-t-y.
As much as Mac loves Austin and Dad’s wife, Tiffany, and it’s been four years since our parents lived together, he continually brings up memories of times with Dad. He forgets that Mom and Dad had a big fight on that trip to Patrick’s Point. Dad and Carson went fishing for the day, and Mom took Mac and me shopping, and neither spoke more than a few words on the drive home. Fun trip.
“I was going to make a tent where my bed is.”
“Mac,” I say as he leaves the room in the exact opposite mood he came in with.
“I’ll make a s’more with you.”
That brings the big wide smile that could seriously put the kid in commercials. “Okay! See you downstairs. And you need to see my secret compartment in my room.”
I stay in my new room until the cold seeps in from outside and the shivers take over.
There are mattresses all over the living room and a fire blazing so hot that everyone sits without jackets. I peel mine off as I enter the room.
So here we are.
And then Mom’s cell phone rings.
chapter three
I listen to Mom on the phone with a sinking feeling in my stomach. It’s not that hard to figure out that someone is dead, and then a few moments later who that person is.
When someone dies, it’s like everything you know about them and any memories you have all become heightened and important. I didn’t know Tony Arnold all that well.
“How did it happen?” Mom says, sitting on the edge of a large cardboard box.
We gather around her to hear the tragic details.
“That’s horrible.”
Though we weren’t close friends, Little Tony, as everyone called him, and I went to church together for years. We were in Sunday school and youth group. We were in the Christmas play every year. He was a grade older but looked years younger.
“I’ll send Maggie some flowers,” Mom says, referring to Tony’s mother, before ending the conversation.
“Little Tony Arnold is dead? What happened?” Aunt Jenna asks before I do.
“It’s so awful. He overdosed.”
“Sweet little Tony?” Aunt Jenna asks, and it is hard to think of him as anything but that cute little guy we knew at church.
I remembered once during church when Little Tony and I were supposed to help in children’s church, but instead we went exploring. We heard a noise and raced through a door, with Little Tony going first. He fell straight into the baptismal during the pastor’s sermon. I could laugh at the memory, except that now Tony is dead.
“I guess he’s been doing a lot of drugs and drinking a lot.”
And there is talk about it for a while, and discussion of how sad it all is, but then everyone moves on after the arrival of the Chinese food and the search for a few more sleeping bags. But I can’t stop thinking of little Tony Arnold. It’s like he lingers on the borders of everything we do and say.
Kate texts me awhile later when we’re all in our sleeping bags. Mac is playing his Nintendo DS under his covers. I’m texting friends.
KATE: Hey.
ME: This Md I knew died.
KATE: Who?
ME: I don't think you know him. He went to my church. little Tony we called him.
KATE: Well, that's a name to haunt a guy. HOW'd he die?
ME: That's the crazy part. Drugs. He was this sweet little kid. I saw him last Christmas. He was still really short and cute.
KATE: Short and cute? Named Little Tony, and he's in high school?
ME: Yeah, which would be painful.
KATE: Guess that explains the drugs.
ME: Yeah. Maybe.
And I can’t stop thinking of him. Every memory I can resurrect, I find and go over, searching for some hint of the shortness of his life. Little weird things like a funny story he told on a youth trip to Marine World, or how when we watched the movie Simon Birch, the main character reminded us of Little Tony. Things like that.
And I don’t want to forget him, which is strange. How often have I ever thought of him except when I’d see him? Now I can’t stop thinking about him. Because now he’s dead. Little Tony is dead, and isn’t it important to remember him now, to give some kind of meaning to his life?
It’s midnight, and I’m texting from inside my sleeping bag with the phone charger plugged into the wall.
KATE: Nick asked me what you said.
ME: What I said?
KATE: About him liking you. I told him the movie started so I didn't get a reply.
ME: What is this, seventh grade? He can't ask me these things himself?
This Nick drama is annoying me, probably because I’m moody and antsy and want Carson to get here. He should hear about Little Tony, who was a grade in between us. Carson will remember the time Little Tony did a perfect rendition of an Oompa-Loompa from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
KATE: Well, it is Nkk. He? either has a girl calling and chasing him, or he doesn't really know what to do
I like this guy, I remind myself. In between the other guys I’ve liked, Nick has been on the top five list for maybe two years, moving into the number one slot in the past months. We danced once at a freshman orientation dance—one of our friends forced us together—and for a split second I thought he might kiss me. Then someone bumped into us, and the magic was gone. Our friends said we’d make the best couple; we even look alike in a way. We both have dark hair and blue eyes, complexions that tan easily, and he’s enough inches taller that I wouldn’t tower over him in heels.
Uncle Jimmy keeps snoring off and on.
Aunt Jenna hits him and whispers, “You’re snoring again. Roll over.” There’s some scuffling around, and then he rolls over.
KATE: You still awake?
ME: Of course
KATE: Allen wants me to play Xbox.
ME: Let me guess. His friends are gone so he's begging little sister.
KATE:You know it. He really needs to go back to college. My parents are bout to go crazy. Bui why so little talk bout Nick? I'm starting to think you don't like him.
ME: I do. Just being down here now, knowing if s for real, and then hearing about that kid dying... everything's weird. I should just force myself to sleep.
KATE: Wish you were here eh?
ME: Yeah
I want to write, But this is my chance, the change I’ve wanted for years.
Near the city I can explore art and culture. It’s sort of been my dream, if I really knew what my dreams were. I’ve just known that I wanted something different. Most of my friends wouldn’t ever guess—how something feels wrong at times, sometimes during the strangest moments like the middle of class or during a dance or while sitting around talking to everyone. Mom would say it’s because I have a sense of purpose and calling for my life. Uh-huh. Aunt Jenna would say no one feels like they fit in during high school.
All I know is the essence of my dreams, and this awkward “nonfitting” feeling. I want to do things and see places that I can’t quite put into words.
KATE: LOL No, you don't really want to be here. You've stared out the windows tor too many years my friend.
ME: What?
How does she know about this?
KATE: Don't you remember in seventh grade?
ME: What in seventh grade?
KATE: Mr. Quigley called you a zoner cause you were always staring out the windows. I asked why you didn't concentrate better. We were at the picnic tables at lunch. I remember perfectly.
ME: Remember what?
KATE: You said you were imagining the day when you escaped our little town. I said that I liked our little town. We got in a big tight about it We didn't talk till the not day.
ME: We didn't?
KATE: I can't believe you don't remember.
ME: I don't.
KATE: You said don't take it wrong. You had nothing against our little cow town. Which of course made me mad again. I said what was wrong with a cow town?
ME: I remember. We laughed that you called it a cow town too, but didn't like ME saying it.
KATE: Yesl The fight was over. But you said you wanted to explore the world, do something exciting.
ME: l was like that back then?
KATE: Oh, even earlier! In kindergarten you told Mrs K you were going to be Van Gogh. So see? You're doing what you've dreamed.
ME: I guess so
KATE: Don't let it get messed up.
Uncle Jimmy is back to snoring. I lie there for a long time, wishing one of my friends would pop in to say hello. Uncle Jimmy snorts a loud one, an
d I hear a snicker across the room, then Mac’s whisper: “Is anyone else awake?”
“Yes,” I whisper back.
“Yes,” say my mom, Aunt Jenna, and Austin in unison.
For some reason, this makes Mom and Aunt Jenna start laughing. It infects us all, and soon we laugh so hard that Uncle Jimmy wakes in panic.
“What’s going on? What’s happening?”
Which makes us laugh harder, of course.
It’s four o’clock, and we all get up. Mom digs through boxes for paper plates, the griddle, and pancake mix and starts mixing waffles while Austin makes coffee.
“Oh my gosh,” Aunt Jenna says, jumping up like the house is on fire. “Tomorrow is Thursday? I mean, today is Thursday the twenty-first. Oh, I can’t believe it. With all the details of the move, I totally forgot, and we are definitely not ready.”
We’re all asking, “What, what?”
“It’s Premiere Night tomorrow. I mean today.”
“Oh no,” Mom says.
“Didn’t Terri go on that health-spa vacation?” Uncle Jimmy asks, he too seeing this as a grave situation, and I want to interrupt and ask what Premiere Night is.
“Yes.” Aunt Jenna rubs her neck, a worried expression on her face.
She owns a coffeehouse/cinema called the Underground. I’m supposed to start working there next week.
“I could start tomorrow,” I say. “Or today, that is.”
At first Aunt Jenna protests, but she needs me. And so I’ll be starting work at eleven.
“Oh, it looks like your brother left a message last night. Your dad said he was having trouble with the truck,” Mom says as she punches in numbers on her cell phone.
Again? I thought he’d be here already. It’s like my wings are clipped with him gone. It’s Thursday, and since Mom isn’t making us start school till Monday, I’m thinking we could explore half of Marin County.
“Ruby, will you take over the waffles?”
Mom walks out of the kitchen before I respond. Austin follows her.
Maybe Carson can pick me up after work. He may grumble and complain about taking me places, but unless he’s heading off with his friends, he usually goes where I want to go. And down here, he won’t have friends at first. He’ll want to do things with me even more—
Ruby Unscripted Page 2