Inside the house she decided to scrub the kitchen floor with a brush. She was about to lather the floor, when she remembered the time she’d thrown the bucket of scrub water at Andrew when he returned from Vietnam. “Oh, shit,” she cried, scrambling to her feet.
Five minutes later she was in her car, heading for the shopping mall, where she bought forty-one towels, two shower curtains, and a purple plastic wastebasket. When she returned home she dumped the bags in the garbage. The linen closet couldn’t hold one towel more, and she had a tub enclosure with no need of shower curtains. She kicked the bag with the purple trash basket.
She was sweating profusely when she popped her first bottle of beer, which she kept for Andy’s visit. She stuck two more bottles under her arm along with the bottle opener. She drank until all three bottles were empty, giving her a delightful buzz. She dozed in the shade of the sycamore in the backyard. She woke an hour later to the distant toll of thunder. A streak of lightning slashed across the sky. Thank God, now maybe it will cool off. Tomorrow, by God, she was going to call for central air-conditioning.
Ruby left the beer bottles on the grass and stomped into the house, muttering over and over, “I don’t want to do this, I can’t do this. I don’t know why I agreed. I understand, I really understand what Dixie is going through. There just has to be a better way, and I don’t know what it is.” She shivered violently. “Anything, I’ll do anything, but I can’t do this.”
At eight-thirty Ruby climbed out of her sports car. She was so jittery she could barely make her legs function. She rapped on the screen door, something she never did, and called Dixie’s name. For some reason she didn’t want to go into Dixie’s house; she didn’t want to be here in the carport, either. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Hugo Sinclaire, and yet she was going to be driving with him in her car. She shuddered, hating the thought. Her heart pounded in her chest.
Dixie appeared at the door, a two-pound sky-blue Mrs. Sugar bag in her hand. Ruby knew what was inside. “For God’s sake, couldn’t . . . you have put the jar in something else?” Her voice quivered. Her arms felt weak as she held the screen door for Dixie. I’m not doing this. I’m not standing here. This is someone else. This is all a bad dream and I’m going to wake up any second now.
“It’s a throwaway bag. I left my briefcase at the office. I haven’t done any shopping lately, and didn’t have a grocery bag. Hugo’s favorite color was blue. It seemed ... fitting,” Dixie said tightly.
“It’s going to rain ... soon,” Ruby said, sliding into the driver’s seat. She tried not to look at the shiny blue bag in Dixie’s lap as she backed the car out of the driveway.
“We should be back here in a hour. I practiced ... what I did was fill the jar with sugar and counted the minutes ... seconds really, while I poured it down the drain.” Her voice was still tight and strained. Ruby clenched her teeth.
“One more time, Dix: this is not a good idea. You should have rented a boat and ... you know. God, what if ... Listen, why don’t you put him in the trunk, I’m having a real hard time with this, in case you haven’t noticed,” Ruby said hoarsely.
“I will not involve you, Ruby. All you’re going to do is be the lookout. When you give the signal that traffic is ... is . . . I’ll do it.
“I stapled the bag,” Dixie said quietly.
“That’s real good, Dixie, now he can’t get out. What difference does it make if you stapled the bag or not?” Ruby fretted.
“I thought it would make you feel better. Let’s talk about something else. Are you ready to go to Saipan? Have you heard from Calvin? Did you get all new clothes? Are you planning on staying at a hotel or with your sister?”
“I wish I were there right now. I wish I were anywhere but here. Calvin called last night. He says he can hardly wait to make the trip. We’re going to meet in San Francisco, spend a few days there, then go on to Hawaii and three days of ... you know, and then on to Saipan. I’ll be staying at a hotel. Calvin will have his own room. Amber pretty much told me not to count on staying with her because she won’t be a party to an illicit relationship. One of these days I’m going to belt her right between the eyes,” Ruby said in a brittle, shaking voice.
“Are you going to see Andrew?”
“No. Well, maybe. I might call him from the airport when I’m leaving. I’ll have to play that one by ear.”
Overhead, a low rumble of thunder could be heard. Ruby blinked as the sky temporarily lit up and then darkened. Ruby hated storms because they reminded her of the night she’d given birth to Martha all alone. A second streak of lightning slid across the sky, bathing the road in a bright light. Ruby shivered in the warm car.
“There’s absolutely no breeze,” Dixie complained. “I’ve never seen humidity like we’ve had the past few days. I hope the rain cools things down. I think it will, don’t you?” Dixie babbled.
Ruby slowed the car. “We’re approaching the bridge. This is your show, Dixie, what do you want me to do?” Ruby whispered. She was insane, out of her mind for coming along. It was harder and harder to breathe.
“Find a side street and park. We’ll walk to the bridge. Listen, I’ve been thinking. If you just stand there at the end of the bridge, you’re going to look suspicious. If a patrol car comes along, it will stop sure as anything. They’ll want to know why you’re standing there. You know what the shore police are like. Maybe you should stay in the car,” Dixie said wistfully.
“And get picked up for loitering! Yes, I know what the shore police are like. We look like criminals, I feel like one, and it will show. We can still ... change our minds,” Ruby said desperately.
“Does that mean you’re coming?” Dixie asked.
“Move,” Ruby snapped as she withdrew the key from the ignition. “Let’s get this over with.” My God, she really was going to ... help.
“I didn’t think there would be much traffic at this time of night, especially in the middle of the week,” Dixie whimpered. Cars whooshed past them, one after the other, as the women approached the bridge.
Dixie squared her shoulders. It was right what she was doing. She took first one hesitant step and then another. She looked over her shoulder at Ruby, whose eyes were on the oncoming traffic. In the bright headlights she could see the sheen of perspiration on her friend’s face and neck. Ruby was to whistle when there was a break in traffic. Fifteen seconds, that’s all it took to pour the sugar down the drain. Fifteen seconds and Hugo was history. She ripped the bag, pricking her fingers on one of the staples. She tried to appear nonchalant as she leaned against the rail, the shiny blue bag in front of her. Cars continued over the bridge, bathing her in the yellow glow of the headlights. She could feel herself start to tremble. In a few minutes she would be free and Hugo would cease to exist. Just a few more minutes. She risked a glance over her shoulder and she saw Ruby walking slowly toward her. Once again she squared her shoulders.
The jar was in her hands when Ruby whistled. She twisted and twisted, but the lid wouldn’t yield. She tried again. Ruby’s voice thundered in her ears, but she knew it was no more than a whisper. “Do it!”
“I can’t get the lid off. It’s the jar ring. The suction is too tight!” Dixie wailed.
Ruby was alongside Dixie now, her eyes on the traffic approaching the bridge. “You put a jar ring on there!” she said, incredulous. “For God’s sake, why?”
“So he ... so it would be tight and not ... I didn’t want it to spill out. Here, you try it,” Dixie said, passing the jar to Ruby.
Ruby backed up a step. She didn’t mean to reach for the jar, didn’t mean to try to unscrew it, but she did. She felt the pressure seal give and at the same moment she thrust the jar back at Dixie. Her eyes on the traffic, she whispered hoarsely, “Start to walk, there’s more traffic. We’ve been standing here too long already.”
They were halfway across the bridge before another break in traffic occurred. “There’s a car coming quite a way back. Do it now,” Ruby ordered. “For God
’s sake, hurry up!” she said, her voice filled with panic.
“I can’t,” Dixie whimpered. “I want to do it, I need to do it, but I . . .”
“Then let’s go home,” Ruby said, backing away from the railing.
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just wait a minute.”
Ruby turned her eyes on the car approaching the bridge. In her panic she misjudged the distance of the RV, which was pulling a pop-up trailer and using only its running lights. She saw it all in slow motion: Dixie removing the lid, the RV rushing closer and closer and creating a gust of wind. Her jaw dropped open in disbelief as the RV rushed past just as Dixie upended the jar she was holding. She sucked in her breath in a loud gasp, ready to yell “Run,” when Hugo Sinclaire’s ashes swirled upward in a swoosh of air caused by the RV. The ashes rained over her.
Ruby shrieked, her hands moving in a frenzy as she batted and swatted her face and arms. She lost control completely as she fought with Hugo’s remains on her damp, perspiring skin. “Get him off me, damn you, Dixie, get him off me!” she shrilled. “Oh, God, oh, God, he’s in my hair, my nose, I swallowed him! Did you hear me? Do something! Help me!” she continued to shriek as she ran off the bridge. Dixie ran behind her, crying and sobbing.
“You said to do it. You were supposed to be watching the cars. You said to do it!” Dixie bleated as she followed her friend off the bridge and down the embankment to the river’s edge. She watched in horror as Ruby lost her footing and slid all the way down, rolling over and over, screaming all the while. She followed carefully, but she, too, lost her footing and slid the way Ruby had, all the way to the bottom. She watched as Ruby rolled into the river. For a moment her shrieks were silenced but started again the moment her head appeared above the water. “He’s in my eyeballs, I can feel it! Don’t come near me. I’ll kill you, I swear to God, I’ll kill you!” Screaming, she dove into the water again and again.
A long time later Ruby dragged herself to the water’s edge and crabbed her way to dry land. She lay exhausted, her breathing harsh and irregular.
“I didn’t force you to come with me,” Dixie bleated. “I wanted you to and I did ask you, but I didn’t force you. You were supposed to be watching the lights. You said do it and I did it. It’s not my fault the RV was using running lights. You were watching,” she accused her friend.
“That’s right, blame it on me. Your fucking husband is all over me, and now it’s my fault. Get away from me! Oh, God, oh, God,” she wailed as she turned and rolled back into the water.
The rain came then, torrents of it bucketing downward as streak after streak of lightning whitened the sky.
“Get out of the water!” Dixie screamed. She reached out her hand. Ruby grabbed it and pulled herself upright, hardly aware of the storm raging overhead.
“I want to go home,” Ruby blubbered. “I have to go home.”
“I’ll drive,” Dixie said in a shaky voice when they approached the car. She helped Ruby into the passenger seat. Rain pelted her as she walked around to the driver’s side of the car. She was crying as hard as Ruby was when she backed the car out of its parking space to make a left turn. It was all her fault. She couldn’t do anything right. Hugo had always said she was stupid. Her shoulders were shaking as violently as Ruby’s. He was in the car with them. She knew he was still stuck to Ruby. Some of the ash had flown at her, too; she’d felt it. Now she’d never be rid of him. He was all over the damn place. She’d never be able to drive over that bridge again.
Dixie squared her shoulders with effort. She wasn’t stupid; she was emotional, dealing with a situation the only way she knew how. Ruby was out of control, and all because of her. She had to take charge and make things right, but she didn’t know how. She tried to imagine how she would feel if the situation were reversed and it was Andrew Blue’s ashes all over her. The thought nauseated her. There was nothing she could do to make this right. Nothing.
“We’re home,” Dixie said a long time later. “I’ll bring the car back in the morning, unless you want me to come in with you. Ruby, I’m sorry. I’d trade places with you if I could. I mean that.”
Ruby got out of the car. In a voice that wasn’t hers she said, “Don’t ever bring this car back here. Junk it. Give it to the sanitation department, paste a sign on it that says Hugo Sinclaire’s remains are in here, but don’t you ever bring it back here. Leave me alone. Get away from me,” she shrilled as she ran up the driveway and into the garage, where she ripped at her clothes. She was about to kick off her sandals, when she realized she was barefoot.
She ran then, sobbing hysterically, through the kitchen, around the table in the dining room, down the hall to the stairway, where she took the steps two at a time to the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower.
She didn’t bother with a bar of soap; instead, she poured shampoo over her entire body and let the scalding water bubble and froth. She rubbed and scrubbed, her eyes burning. She had to clean her eyeballs, soap her ears, clean her nose. She stuck her finger down her throat and forced herself to throw up. She watched the dinner she’d eaten swirl down the drain. She poured more shampoo until the bottle was empty. She cried and sobbed as she bubbled and foamed, her fists pummeling the tiled walls. When the water turned cool, she got out of the shower and reached for a towel. Shivering and shaking, she walked into the bedroom for her robe. She was trembling so badly, she could hardly fit her arms through the sleeves.
Back in the bathroom she dropped to her knees by the toilet and again stuck her finger down her throat. She gagged and retched, but Hugo refused to erupt. Ruby beat at the toilet seat.
She was crazy, she knew it, and she didn’t care. She struggled to her feet as she tied the belt of her robe so tight, she squealed in pain.
She ran, she paced, she stormed about the upstairs rooms, going first to Martha’s old room, then to Andy’s room and back to her own. Looking for what, she didn’t know.
Coffee. Coffee was what she needed. She walked jerkily down the stairs, holding on to the railing for support. In the kitchen she measured out the coffee, filled the pot, her eyes glazed and blank.
Ruby leaned against the stove, staring at her puckered fingers. They looked dead, all shriveled and white. Her eyes went to the clock—ten—fifty. The phone rang. Dixie? She reached out a trembling arm to pick up the receiver. She listened to the operator say she had a collect call for a Miss Ruby Blue.
Ruby’s jaw tightened. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Collect!” she shrilled in the voice she’d heard herself use earlier, the voice that wasn’t hers. “Collect! No. Now, hang up this phone. I don’t want any collect calls, tonight or any other night. Get off my line!” She slammed the phone into the cradle so hard, her ears popped with the sound.
Five minutes later, when the coffee bubbled double time, the phone rang again. She stomped her way to the counter, yanked at the phone, and screamed, “I said no more collect calls!” She was about to rip the telephone wire from the wall when she heard Andrew’s crystal-clear voice say, “What the hell are you screaming about?”
Ruby blinked. Andrew. She told him, sobbing and sniffling.
“Jesus!” Andrew said softly.
“Oh, Andrew, what am I going to do? My skin is crawling. I can’t . . . oh, God, I can’t believe this happened to me. I have to hang up, I need to take another shower, there must be hot water by now.”
“Ruby, I can take the next plane out if you need me. I can be there in eleven hours if I can make connections.”
He sounds worried, Ruby thought. Worried about me. “That’s silly,” she said, “what are you going to do, scrub my back? Did you call for a reason?”
“If I did, I can’t remember what it is,” Andrew grated. “Go take your shower and I’ll call you later.”
Ruby replaced the phone and stared at the coffeepot. She poured the coffee, drank it in three gulps. It bubbled out of her throat almost immediately. Her hands flat on the countertop, Ruby braced herself to stop the wild shaking t
hat was turning her into a puppet. She drew in her breath, backed away, and reached under the counter for a can of Drano. She poured half the contents down the drain.
In the pantry she looked around wildly for a bottle of shampoo. She had everything but shampoo. When the kids were home she always had five or six extra bottles, but these days she went to the beauty parlor and rarely bought shampoo. Her frantic eyes raked the pantry shelves. She reached for a box of Tide and carried it upstairs with her, the Drano under her arm.
Ruby showered again, this time with Tide. She did more than bubble and froth with the strong detergent. She foamed, she itched, and she burned. Her scalp felt as though it were on fire. Her eyeballs ached and burned. She danced under the shower, trying to rinse herself off. Foam spilled over the sides of the tub onto the tile floor. When the toilet was completely covered in suds, she climbed from the shower and dried off. She marched down to the bathroom between Andy’s room and Martha’s and stepped into the bathtub. She continued to suds up. “Oh, God!” she wailed. “Oh, God!” She got out of the tub and into her robe.
She was sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor when she heard the kitchen door open and close. Dixie?
“Yo, Ma, you up there?” Andy called as he rushed up the stairs.
He dropped to his knees and gathered his mother into his arms. “Pop called me, he said to get over here, that you needed me. He told me what happened.”
Andy stroked his mother’s wet head as he whispered soft words of comfort.
Mother and son were still sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor, asleep, when the sun came up. Ruby awoke and tried to open her eyes, but they were too swollen. Her face felt twice its normal size, and she itched and burned. Andy. Andy was with her. Then she remembered. Trembling violently, she tried to free herself from her son’s tight grasp. She had to take a shower.
Seasons of Her Life Page 50