Ruby's Misadventures With Reality

by Samantha Bohrman

  She called Eric and reported her findings. He said, “Cool. Nice work, babe.” He promised he’d get right on it. His tone of voice didn’t convey any urgency. He sounded like he would have promised anything to get her off the phone and go back to sleep. She couldn’t blame him. It was almost midnight. She’d call him again tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Deep Thoughts with Eric

  The next morning she hit the office bright and early, motivated to catch Oz. Right after she finished her coffee and called Noel. He’d tried to apologize for letting Ozcorp slide through the land reclamation process and she’d given him cold shoulder without even bothering to listen. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she didn’t want a bad land use decision to stand in the way of happiness. That was not the fight she wanted her happy ending to go down over. Before she’d even sat down, though, she heard someone coming up the stairs. Definitely not Ming. Whoever it was had a macho, I’m-coming-your-way-sugar type walk.

  Eric.

  “Hi, Eric.” She flashed a smile forged by thousands of years of evolution, a smile filled with the promise to bear his children and fill the world with taller, even-more-strapping Erics. It wasn’t just a smile. It was basically cheating.

  “Nice pad, Rubes. I like the location.”

  “You like lingerie?”

  He raised his eyebrows, wordlessly indicating his masculine approval of all things involving lace and boobs and refusing to dignify such an obvious question with a verbal response. She might as well have asked, Do you eat food?

  He sat down at the pink settee with a grim sort of look. “So, do you plan on helping any men? How the hell is a person supposed to sit on this thing?” He sat awkwardly in the middle, not wanting to recline like a swooning maiden, as it invited.

  With a tinge of excitement in her voice, she said, “What’s up? Are you going to arrest Oz?” She laughed, but she was only half joking.

  “Fuck no. I did get the tox-screen results back on Estelle, though.”

  “And?” Ruby was pleasantly surprised that he’d started taking her seriously.

  “She had elevated potassium levels, so you might be right, but I can’t do anything about it. Elevated potassium isn’t abnormal.” He let that sink in for a second, then went on, “Even if Trudi testifies that Pastor Rick gave her some low-sodium alternative to salt, which sounds crazy as shit, the tox results don’t support the finding that she was poisoned.” He paused to finger some lace panties Ming had left next to the pink chair. “Sweet panties.”

  “The tox screen results and motive support reopening the investigation at least. You should get a warrant to search…somewhere for the potassium chloride.”

  “Search where? Not to mention, the chain of custody on the poison is whack. You might have motive for Oz, but where’s the proof that he had the poison or knew about it? Hell, no one even knows where Oz is. The dude could be living on the International Space Station wearing astronaut diapers and eating freeze-dried caviar. You have no case.”

  Feeling frustrated, she drummed the desk with her fingers. “I’m not asking for the moon. I’ve given you plenty to show that someone killed an old lady and is getting away scott-free. I don’t get why you won’t take that seriously.”

  “Even if I do find the killer, there is no usable evidence. The peanuts you took would not be admissible in court. You know that. Plus, Trudi’s testimony is useless. She’s a felon. The defense will tear apart anything she says.”

  Ruby frowned and Eric continued. “Like I said, there’s no point. The department will not allocate any resources for cases that don’t have a high likelihood of a win. Too broke for goose chases, especially when Ozcorp is the goose.”

  “You should at least question Trudi.”

  “There’s no point. Ozcorp money paid for both the judge’s and the mayor’s campaigns. Without Ozcorp, none of us would have jobs and everyone knows it.”

  After a pause, he changed the topic, saying, “I saw your Facebook update, the one about suing Oz. Why not just be happy with that? Go all class-action on his ass, get a fat settlement, and buy yourself something nice.”

  He was right. She felt her spirits lifting already. Her optimism made for harder falls, but it also made for fast recoveries. Right now, she was thinking that even if the police wouldn’t press criminal charges, she had her civil case to fall back on. She smiled. “Thanks, Eric. That’s good advice.”

  Eric seemed reluctant to leave.

  Ruby asked, “What else is on your mind? You seem distracted.”

  Eric took a deep breath and shrugged, his too-sexy attitude lost in the moment of despair. “Rick wants me to get more involved in the Chapel.”

  Ruby laughed and blurted out, “Has he met you?” Eric wasn’t ethical enough for police work. Sure, she could see that it might be a good idea for him to pursue a career where he wasn’t required to carry a side arm, a career where he didn’t have access to government databases that doubled as dating websites, but religious leadership didn’t seem to be the logical next step.

  “He says I have the right look to be a ‘Chapel Man.’ He wants me to move off the houseboat and settle down, start acting like an upstanding citizen.”

  Ruby didn’t say anything, unsure of the proper condolences when one is shamed out of living on a beloved, but rusted-out houseboat. The more she knew about Eric, the less she understood him. Nothing made sense—his security gig, the off-grid houseboat, his causal police work, his platonic relationship with Destinee. Something had started to seem “off” about him and his interest in her. Maybe he’s gay? Probably. He was too perfect for a mortal woman. But, shouldn’t a gay man look more comfortable on a chaise lounge?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ultrasound

  Ruby took a long sip of her coffee like she was taking a drag off a cigarette and stared into space as if confronting a long and poorly lit day on a Hollywood back lot. Outside, the Kansas sun glared. She resented it and indulged in her fit of noir. The legal research for the shareholder’s suit was offering a glimpse of the dark underbelly of the mall, and not the well-lit glass tile tornado shelter underneath Enzo’s. For Ruby’s family, the Biomall had not only represented the American dream, it had been the dream. Today she felt like she was waking up and realizing it had been a completely unrealistic dream, on par with her childhood fantasy of living in a castle made of marshmallows. She wanted to crawl back into bed.

  Lost in reflection, Ruby didn’t notice when Em, who had taken it upon herself to educate Ruby on non-Kardashian current events, tossed her the paper. “Hey, lawyer. Take this and read up. It might be relevant to my lawsuit.”

  The article Em pointed to was called, Ozcorp: Too Cool to Fail. It started, “Ozcorp is in bankruptcy and hoping that Emerald will bail it out. The mayor, who is thinking it over, commented, ‘If it weren’t for the Biomall, we’d still be cleaning out hog pens wearing shit kickers. The Biomall employs over half of Emerald’s citizens.’ Bailing out the Biomall is a no brainer. We can even make it a good investment. One of our own city officials, Noel West, is an expert on turning superstructures like the Biomal into sustainable investments.”

  Em huffed. “All this town does is whore itself out to shoppers.”

  Maybe it was just her credit card debt talking, but Ruby didn’t see why the mayor had such a hard-on for the Biomall. First of all, there was Funland, Oz’s $40-a-ticket deathtrap. Not to mention she was starting to think the mall had a more generalized, corrupting influence. She would probably have a healthier outlook and less debt if she hadn’t grown up in the Biomall’s shopping biome. After perusing the article, she said, “Can I have one more coffee to-go, Em?” She needed to drink thirty-two ounces of liquid before her doctor’s appointment that afternoon. They probably didn’t mean thirty-two ounces of latte, but whatever.

  Em handed her the coffee and said, “Go raise some hell for me.”

  “Will do. As soon as I find out if this baby
is a boy or a girl.”

  “Aww!” Em, in her butch haircut and coveralls, smiled and went as gooey as a thirteen-year-old girl in a kitten store. “You come back and let me know as soon as you find out.”

  Ruby smiled happily and said, “You’re such a softie, Em.”

  “Nope. I just love babies.”

  “Ha! Softie.”

  “Hey, I forgot. I brought in my sewing machine for you to borrow.”

  “Thanks, Em!” Em had convinced Ruby that she could save money by sewing her own clothes.

  Lugging out the twenty-five pound plastic case, she smiled and blew Em a kiss. “I’ll try to make you something cute, too.”

  “No thanks, buttercup. I don’t think I could pull off that much razzmatazz.”

  On her way out the door, a couple of girls pointed at her and snickered. Reflexively, she brushed some imaginary spilled food off her shirt and checked to make sure she didn’t have her skirt tucked into her underwear. She had some crumbs and a coffee stain on the baby bump, but who didn’t?

  …

  Ruby paused on Em’s patio to call Noel. She needed a ride to the ultrasound and he was the obvious choice. She’d meant to call him and straighten out their argument over the Elysian Fields thing earlier. They’d just have to do it on the way to the ultrasound, if he could pick her up.

  Noel pulled up to the stop fifteen minutes later. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “So where is this appointment?” Noel asked.

  “The Biosound.”

  He turned the car that direction. “I know you’re mad at me, but I really want to be included in baby stuff. The ultrasound is a big deal. Isn’t this where we find out the sex?”

  “I’m not mad at you anymore, Noel. I’m sorry I flew off the handle. I don’t think you made a good decision, but I understand.”

  He sighed. “I know I screwed up. I can see now that it was partially about my father. I didn’t want to piss him off the very moment he came back into my life. You were right.” He took her hand and said, “Will you accept my apology?”

  Feeling her last ounce of frost melt, she said, “Of course.” Squeezing his hand in return, she said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the ultrasound earlier.” Truthfully, she had balked because she didn’t know what to expect from baby doctor appointments. She could never be sure when the doctor would pull out the stirrups and rubber gloves. It just didn’t seem like somewhere she wanted to go with someone who had only seen her without lipstick once by accident.

  He smiled. “Good. I want to be at everything from now on.” Looking at the gigantic box he had loaded into the backseat for her, he said, “What’s that?”

  “Em loaned me her sewing machine. I’m gonna learn how to sew.”

  “Really?” He looked at her skeptically.

  “Yeah, why not? I can make stuff for the baby. Maybe even something for myself.”

  He nodded. “That’s a great idea.”

  Ruby stared out the window and watched the world pass by. It was sweet that he hadn’t assumed she could learn to sew. Most everyone else got a good laugh out of the idea.

  The Biosound, as it called itself, was a typical Emerald building, that is, completely over-the-top, basically the Lady Gaga of all ultrasound facilities. The front of the building sported a lenticular image of an Anne Geddes-style flower bloom opening to reveal a pink-cheeked baby that winked as you passed by the building like one of those 3D book marks for kids. It meshed poorly with the marble and fountains.

  The whole facility looked like it had been designed by a group of people with no unifying design concept except “Fabulous!” The lenticular, winking baby had turned into a mild sensation with the pro-life community and had inspired a slew of winking baby billboards along I-86. You could actually gauge your distance from Emerald by the number of winking billboards per mile.

  As befit Emerald, the Biosound felt more like an exclusive spa than a clinic. The receptionist greeted Ruby cheerfully, offered her a cup of green tea and a complimentary massage after the ultrasound before ushering her to a little waiting room with modern chairs made of clear plastic. Unfortunately, all the luxury touches and Anne Geddes photos in the world couldn’t change the fact that a kid was sitting on her bladder, which was now filled with twenty-four ounces of vanilla latte, not to mention the fact that she was wearing a short skirt (because her pants didn’t fit) and her thighs were sticking uncomfortably to the clear plastic chair. Every time she moved, it sounded like she was peeling scotch tape off of a window.

  Oblivious to her discomfort, Noel flipped through the numerous pamphlets on birthing classes until, finally, a woman with a chart called, “O’Deare, Ruby.”

  “Thank God,” said Ruby.

  In the examination room the tech introduced herself. For a second she stared at Ruby, as if trying to place her. When she did, her eyes grew silver-dollar big. Then, her attention shifted to Noel and her lower lip began to quiver with mirth.

  “What is it?” asked Ruby. “Have we met before?” Something was going on. This was the second time people had gotten all wiggy around her today.

  “Oh…nothing.” The tech could barely get out the word “nothing” because she was trying not to giggle. “I just love your video, though. I’m so thrilled you’re having a baby.” Attempting to staunch her mirth, she said, “Just lie back. I’m going to put some conductive jelly on your belly.”

  Ruby looked at Noel to see if he understood what was so funny. He shrugged, completely clueless.

  Back to business, the tech perfunctorily rubbed the receiver onto Ruby’s belly while Ruby and Noel stared at the screen anticipating the first look with anticipation and more than a little dread. The troublemaker was about to show its face. Or make that its feet. The tech refocused the camera and assessed a few baby parts. Ruby watched without feeling much until a pair of tiny feet came into view. She wasn’t expecting the force of emotion that hit her. Prior to this moment Janet Jackson had been as real to her as the peach-sized human growing in her belly. But seeing a picture of her child—it made pregnancy one-hundred times more real than it had been. She suddenly imagined the tiny baby in her arms, a little person all her own, a person she would love unconditionally.

  Noel saw the feet too. “Hey, a foot,” he said. Oblivious to Ruby’s wide-eyed amazement, he went on. “Big feet. I bet it’s a boy.”

  “Nope, make that a girl,” said the technician. As she stared at the screen clicking away, counting ventricles, she remarked, “Looks like a healthy baby girl. From her size, I guess she’ll be fully cooked right around June twentieth.” She looked at Ruby and Noel, “Is that what you were expecting?”

  “Sounds about right. Can I pee now?” she asked eagerly.

  “Sure. Right over there,” the tech said pointing towards an attached bathroom.

  When she walked back into the room, Noel was looking at a calendar on his iPad. He blocked off a few days around the tenth, which made Ruby happy.

  The tech asked them, “Would you like to augment your baby photo with any touch-ups before we print it?”

  “What?” asked Noel, confused.

  “Many parents are disappointed with the quality of their baby photos, so we offer a photo enhancement service.” She showed a before and after photo of a baby with a misshapen schnoz, followed by a Gerberized photo touch-up. This made Ruby remember the description of Destinee’s father’s job: “plastic surgery for children, but not the charitable kind.” The meaning finally became clear and she shuddered. For the first time ever she felt bad for Destinee. Living with that kind of pressure to be perfect couldn’t be helpful for a kid’s development.

  “It looks fine to me,” he said. “What do people expect, a Gerber ad?”

  The tech laughed. “Basically. You’d be surprised how many people upgrade.”

  A $50 upgrade to the Gerber baby didn’t sound as offensive to Ruby as it did to Noel, but she smiled and accepted the picture. Her baby didn’t look like an a
lien anyway. Baby Rosebud Fabrizia O’Deare was perfect with little smoochy lips and an upturned nose.

  Noel saw Ruby’s copy of the photo and spontaneously asked her, “Would you mind printing off a second photo for me? For the office,” he added. “Betsy will want to see it.”

  She smiled at Ruby in a conspiratorial way as if to say, “Wow, what a catch!” As Ruby carefully tucked the baby photo into her pocket, she realized that she would have a baby on her hip at the Fourth of July picnic this year, at Ming’s birthday, for everything. She would have a six-month-old baby next Christmas, hopefully without the James Bond marathon.

  They walked in silence to the car. The air was tinged with the smell of fresh rain and Ruby inhaled the smell of damp pavement. Noel ushered her to his car and opened up the door for her, insisting on holding her bag while she buckled in.

  As they drove down Biomall Promenade, Noel ventured, “Well, what do you think? A girl, huh?”

  Ruby looked down at the profile picture. “I’m glad you were there.”

  When they pulled up to Ruby’s house on Primrose, there was a huge box out front. “I bet it’s the crib. My mom ordered one for the baby. Do you want to see it?”

  “Sure, why don’t you let me help you get it inside. You shouldn’t be lifting anything that big.” As he said this, he picked up the box and hoisted it through the door and into the living room like it was no bigger than a sack of flour. Ruby was impressed. She figured that box was a two or three person job.

  After cutting into the box and sifting through the insane amount of packing material, which Noel found to be offensive for environmental reasons, Ruby found the coverlet. It was just as cute as she remembered, with little embroidered bees wearing tutus. She spread it over the back of the couch and carefully smoothed out the wrinkles. “What do you think? Isn’t it perfect!”

  Where most men would have probably said whatever she wanted to hear so that they could move on to dinner as fast as possible, Noel looked thoughtfully at the bees and said, “I like the bees. I don’t want her to be scared of bugs and dirt.” Then, probably taking in the tutus, he mentioned, “Good thing she turned out to be a girl.”