Embittered Ruby

by Nicole O'Dell

  The drive to school passed too quickly. It would probably be even more awkward walking into the school with her mother by her side than all alone as the new girl earlier. At least Mom looked pretty hot—for a middle-aged woman anyway. She’d dropped a few pounds, had on skinny jeans and some great boots she’d bought a few years ago but had never even worn. A flowy brown top, some gold bangles skimming her slimmer wrists, and her hair loose and wavy—she almost looked like a student rather than a parent. Would Dad notice? Or was it too late for him to see good in his ex-wife? Then again, he would be comparing her mother to a professional cheerleader. As good as Mom looked, who could compete with someone like Tiffany? If a person liked that kind of perky perfection. Ewww. No thanks.

  As they approached the school, Carmen spotted her dad waving from the steps at the front door, still dressed in his business suit. Handsome. Grinning. He tipped his head down to speak to a blond student beside him who turned and waved at Carmen.

  Who was th—?

  Tiffany?

  Carmen’s heart sank. What was she doing there? Impossible. There was no way her father had brought his bimbo to his own daughter’s college night at school. How could her dad have so little class? How would Mom feel about coming face-to-face with her home-wrecker so soon?

  Mom gasped, and her steps slowed.

  Carmen wanted to sneak a peek at her but was afraid to look.

  She grabbed Carmen’s hand and pulled until they both stopped moving. Her grip tightened.

  Carmen looked at her mother’s chalky, lifeless face.

  What had she done? It was Carmen’s fault they were all here. If she had known just how clueless Dad really was, she’d never have arranged this. So much for trying to get Mom and Dad back together. Her scheming had done nothing more than drive the knife deeper into Mom’s back.

  Mom let go of Carmen’s hand. “I’m leaving. I’ll pick you up after.”

  “You can’t, Mom. Please.” But Carmen didn’t even want to be around that adulteress, so how could she blame her mom for wanting to bolt?

  “You know I’d do anything you ask me to, honey. But don’t you think this is asking a bit too much?” Mom rubbed her temples. “I’d really like to disappear before I have to talk to them.” Her glance darted toward Dad and Tiffany, who had started their approach.

  “All right. I understand. Let’s get out of here.” No way she’d let Mom leave by herself. Carmen grabbed her mother’s elbow and ushered her back toward the car.

  Footsteps drew closer behind them.

  “Pamela, Carmen. How’s it going? I’m so glad you let us know about tonight. Tiff and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  Carmen whirled around and glared at her oblivious father. Could he really be so stupid? How could Carmen never have seen hints of this level of insensitivity before? A person didn’t turn into a cruel monster overnight. There had to have been evidence all along. It was like she’d never known the man. Then again, what did she expect from him? A solid, loving dad and husband didn’t kick his family out so he could move Barbie into her dream house at their expense.

  She shifted her gaze to Tiffany, gloating by his side.

  Her eyes sparkled with power. “Well, hello there, Carmen. Nice to see you again so soon. It’s such a shame we can only have you stay over four nights a month.”

  Stay over? While the four days might be factual, she clearly meant the phrasing to bite. It had been Carmen’s house first. And if Carmen had her way, it would be her house long after Dad disposed of Tiffany, as he would once he tired of her, too. She was nothing compared to Mom, so she didn’t stand a chance.

  Tiffany inspected her claws, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  “Turns out we have to go. I’ll give you a call later, Dad.” Carmen reached for Mom’s rigid arm.

  “You’re leaving? We came all this way.…” His eyes appealed to Tiffany to do something—which made perfect sense, since he was apparently helpless to do anything for himself.

  Tiffany waved him off. “Oh, it’s okay, Daniel. If they need to run, it’ll be fine. I have a lot of closet organization to plan anyway.”

  Dad’s eyes flashed, and he shot Tiffany a look demanding—no, it was unmistakable, begging—she not say any more.

  Hmm. There was something going on. Something Dad didn’t want her to find out about. Carmen would accept the challenge, thank you very much. “Closet organizing?”

  “Oh yeah, I had a top designer come and design me a dream one—more like a dressing room—right off our bedroom. Construction started today.” Tiffany’s eyes flickered to Mom’s mottled face.

  Carmen should let it go—if for no other reason than Mom shouldn’t have to be subjected to this torture. Carmen tried to ignore her intuition, which told her Tiffany was up to no good. If only she could resist taking the bait. But she was helpless—like watching a fight—not fun to witness, but impossible to look away. “Off my parents’ bedroom? What do you mean? There’s no space to build…unless…”

  Tiffany studied Carmen’s face and said nothing as she let the truth sink in.

  She had to be joking. Carmen clenched her jaw to keep her composure. “You punched a hole between my parents’ room and mine and you’re turning my bedroom into your private dressing room. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  Tiffany tickled her French-manicured nails up and down Dad’s arm. “Oh no, dear. That’s not what happened at all. You see, I contracted some construction on my house. You’re only there four days a month. Hardly enough time to stake a claim on any certain part of it—especially a main bedroom. You and Harper can share a room. Or you can have one of the bedrooms in the basement if you insist on your own space when you’re visiting.”

  Carmen’s jaw dropped. When I’m visiting? She squinted at her dad. Was he hearing this? And Kimberley got to keep her own room? Carmen’s hand clenched into a fist. Guess it paid to suck up. Well, add bedroom to the list of losses. Things just got better and better.

  Dad stared at the ground. He didn’t flinch when Tiffany intertwined her fingers in his. He hadn’t protested when Tiffany opened her big mouth. Didn’t try to intervene when she said her hurtful words. What a weak-willed jerk. Plain and simple.

  Mom deserved better.

  Industrial landscape flew by the car window as they hurled toward home past street construction and office buildings. “You okay, Mom?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” She gripped the steering wheel, her thumbnail scratching marks into the black rubber. “I’m reminded. That’s all.”

  “Reminded?”

  “Yep. Of why we’re divorced. That man—your father?” Her knuckles turned white from her grip. “I don’t even know him. Apparently never did. Marrying him has proven to be the biggest mistake of my life.”

  All my fault. Mom would have never made the choice to marry Dad if she hadn’t been pregnant. And really, it was right he’d married her—not every guy would have come through in such a big way—and they did have some good years together, and they were a happy family, or at least Carmen had thought so. Why couldn’t Dad have been more like Nate? Now there was one to hold on to. If Mom had had a guy like Nate, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.

  But Nate was all Carmen’s. Wait just a second. Maybe she’d stumbled upon the answer. Carmen and Nate should get married, get a place to live, start a family of their own—just the two of them. Do it right. Forever.

  Nate would never marry her right now though. He had college to finish then law school. He’d never want to get saddled with a family at this point in his life, even though other people sixteen and eighteen did it all the time—all throughout history. Even in the Bible.

  He would if he had to trade places with Carmen and live her new life. He’d want out just as badly as she did. Dad married Mom at exactly Nate’s age, and Mom had been Carmen’s, so why couldn’t she and Nate get married, too? But Mom and Dad hadn’t decided to marry for no reason. Mom had been pregnant, so D
ad probably felt like he didn’t have a choice.

  Those words played in Carmen’s mind again. Dad hadn’t had a choice.

  She had her solution.

  Carmen could get pregnant.

  The words hung in her brain as if suspended in a cartoon thought bubble.

  Then Nate would be forced to take her in, marry her, be with her forever. No more Hackensack. No more stupid high school. No more smelly apartment over a nail salon. She’d miss her sisters and her mom—but not enough to stick around the mess Carmen had no part in creating. No more loneliness.

  But what if Nate wouldn’t do it? What if he pushed for an abortion?

  No, he’d never ask Carmen to even consider terminating the pregnancy. His family would want him to face his responsibilities. Judge McConnell’s political career and upcoming senate race couldn’t withstand the scandal of abortion or Nate having an illegitimate child out there he didn’t take care of.

  They’d get married. They’d be a family. How great would it be to have a real family with Nate?

  Mom and Dad had been happy for a long time. They had built all of the good stuff that comes with being a family because of a baby. So could she.

  Nate would do the same thing if he were in her shoes. Wouldn’t he? If he really knew what she endured, if he really got it, he would have thought of this already. So she’d just be helping him along a little bit. Every guy wanted to be a knight in shining armor or a Prince Charming. Right? A little prodding couldn’t do anything but help him out.

  “Earth to Carmen. We’re home, sleepyhead.”

  Making no effort to correct her mom’s assumptions, Carmen floated from the parked car to the apartment entrance and then up the stairs, eager to get to her bedroom so she could think. The street noises provided background music to mask her thundering heart.

  Could she actually do something so treacherous? Would it make her the worst girlfriend on the planet? Did people actually do this kind of thing? Technically it would be starting their marriage, their family, on a lie. But Nate would never have to know. He’d fall in love with their baby, and how it came about would never even be a question. But the big question was if Carmen could live with herself if she did such a thing. She’d be costing Nate a shot at a great future just so she could have what she wanted. He could still go to college. It didn’t have to change everything—just some things. Right?

  Carmen reached in her top drawer and pulled the brand-new pill pack from beneath her balled-up socks and stared at the circle of pills. She was due to take her first one of the month that night. And the month was already compromised because of missing so many in the last cycle. If she was actually going to do this, the timing couldn’t be better. But maybe she should wait and think about things for another month. Carmen’s heart sank at the prospect of waiting. The sooner, the better. Before she changed her mind.

  She pressed the first tiny pill through its foil backing and held it in her palm as she carried it to the bathroom. Final decision time. What would it be? Take the pills as prescribed, or plan for a baby—a family—with Nate.

  The tiny pill rolled on her palm as she shifted from foot to foot. Oblivious to just how much power it possessed. She knew what she wanted to do—but once she made up her mind, either way, she’d be propelled forward…no going back. Carmen gripped the pill in her fist and held it over the toilet. This was crazy!

  Last chance to change her mind.

  She pressed the lever with her empty hand, and the water began to swirl in the bowl like an upside-down tornado. “I’m sorry, Nate,” Carmen whispered. She opened her hand and let the pill drop into the tempestuous water just before it got sucked down the pipes.

  Decision made.

  Chapter 6

  There’s a letter for you on the table from Sleepy Hollow Country Club.” Mom stuck her head out of the bathroom door as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.

  Cleaning day. Great. Carmen’s backpack slid from her shoulder to the floor. Thud.

  “Ooh, what is it?” Harper ran to the table and grabbed the letter.

  Kimberley snatched it from Harper’s grasp. “Let’s take a look and see.” She inserted her finger into the slot and made a tiny tear, eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “Don’t you dare.” Carmen’s heart pounded. “I’m serious, Kim. You’re committing a federal offense called mail tampering.”

  Carmen tugged on Kim’s sweater sleeve, the knit threatening to unravel. She had to get her hands on that letter…her sister had no right playing keep-away with her mail.

  “Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” Kim danced around the room, holding the mail out of Carmen’s reach. “Besides, why the fuss? Unless…” Kimberley’s eyes widened. “Is this a love letter from Zach?” She hopped up on a dining chair and lifted the envelope in the air as she tore it open.

  “Oh come on. It’s not a love—” Carmen vowed to kill her little sister.

  “Dear Ms. Castillo,” Kim grinned. “I guess that’s you, Carmen.”

  Carmen’s shoulders slumped. Kim intended to read the letter. Why didn’t Mom stop her?

  “This letter is to inform you all future tennis lessons with Zach Stafford have been canceled, and your standing in the competition rotation has been…”—Kim glanced at Carmen—“forfeited due to nonmembership.” Her mouth dropped open, and she gaped at Carmen. “What is this? Are they serious?”

  “You’ll have to ask your father.”

  Carmen spun on her heels but froze when she heard footsteps behind her. “Do not follow me. Don’t even think about it.” Hurrying to her room, thankful her sisters left her alone for once, Carmen gulped back sobs until she slammed her door, and then she slumped on the floor and let them flow.

  “Hey, baby.” A tattooed arm snaked around Carmen’s shoulders and pulled her away from her locker into the mass of students milling in the hallway.

  Marco.

  “I’m not your baby.” Act cool. Be confident. Don’t let him see you shake. Carmen tried the pep talk, positive she failed miserably.

  “Oh?” Marco chuckled. “S’what you think, chica. Everyone wants to be Marco’s girl.”

  Carmen slammed her locker door, spun the combination lock, and faced him. “Sorry. Not this chica.”

  His eyes flashed with momentary anger—a glimpse into his soul. She’d gone too far.

  “Listen, we can do this the hard way or the easy way. Your call.”

  This? What did he mean? “No offense, Marco. Really.”

  “Better.” His face softened, and then he reached his arm around her back and pulled her close.

  “No.” She shrugged his touch off her body. “I didn’t mean any offense, but I did mean it. You’ve got the wrong girl.”

  Carmen took one step back, ready to flee.

  Marco snapped his finger. “Shooter. José.”

  Shoot her, José? Carmen’s head whipped wildly around as she searched for a gunman.

  Two of Marco’s comrades appeared from nowhere. They crossed their leather-clad arms and planted their expensive shoes right in her way. Oh. Shooter was his name, not a direct order. He had been the one with the gun by the lamppost the other day.

  Carmen glanced in every direction, looking for any way to go that promised escape or even refuge. In one direction a door led to the outside—but the padlock assured its impassibility. Another direction led straight into a dead end. Marco and company blocked her only way out, which also happened to be the way to the front office.

  “More and more I’m sure I have the right girl. I like ‘em feisty.” Marco pressed her against the lockers and put one arm to each side of her head. He leaned close and licked his lips. “Face it, baby, you’re all mine.”

  Carmen ducked under his outstretched arm and pulled away from the cluster.

  José hooted. “You gonna let her get away with that?”

  This had gone way too far. “Look, you guys. No offense, really. It’s just…I have a boyfriend.” Please let it go.
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  They snickered.

  Shooter smacked Marco’s back. “Guess she’s taken, Marco.”

  Marco grinned, flashing a mouthful of silver caps. “Oh, well in that case…you tell yo’ boyfriend, from wherever you came from, you moved on. Believe me, baby, he has, too. Right?” Marco raised his eyebrows at his buddies. “You fine, but no girl is worth waiting around for.”

  “I know that’s right.” José bumped his knuckles with Marco and then Shooter.

  What a bunch of jerks! Carmen had to get away from them, no matter what.

  Another arm crept around Carmen’s shoulders and squeezed her tight. She jumped and glanced back to find out the identity of her newest attacker.

  Diego. What a relief. Or was it?

  “Whachu doin’ messin’ with my girl, Marco?” Diego flipped the toothpick in his mouth end over end while he stared Marco down.

  Marco dissolved. “Your girl? I didn’t know.” He scowled at Carmen. “Why didn’t you say so, little chica? Save us all some trouble.” He looked up at Diego. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, man.”

  “I’ll let it go this time, but don’t let me see you talking to her again. Got it?”

  Marco nodded then flashed his gaze toward Carmen and held her eye contact. There was no mistaking—he wasn’t finished with her yet. He snapped his fingers at his boys, and they swaggered away.

  Carmen’s shoulders sagged, and she exhaled the breath she’d been holding for far too long. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. We can have a public breakup in a few days.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. By the looks of things, you need Diego as much as Diego needs himself a piece of arm candy with no strings attached.” He shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  Why? Why did Diego want to help her? Why did Marco fear him? And why did he always refer to himself in third person? Ah, the mysteries of life.

  But at least she’d made it through one more day.