by Carr, Suzie
“I didn’t go that Thursday. I made her wait.”
“Did you talk to her about her dancer friend?”
“When I finally walked into the prison, my fear superseded my memory. I forgot all about confronting her. I remember sitting there in my car thinking, I am going to walk in there holding my head up high even though I know everyone is going to be staring at me thinking she married a loser.
Ruby took my hands in hers. “You’re still trembling.” She rubbed my hands in hers.
Ruby listened to me in a way that no one ever did. She cared. She wanted to hear my story. No one ever wanted to hear my stories. I wanted to unload all of them to her. “I was a wreck that day. I had to be searched. The lady at the check-in counter growled like an angry tiger. She wore her dark hair in this tight bun. It shined blue under the fluorescent bulbs. She wrote my name in black marker on a visitor pass and flicked her finger to the right and told me to walk that way.”
“Fuck this game of Monopoly,” Ruby said. She swept it away from us and guided me backwards against the floor. She propped a pillow under my head and reached for a blanket on the couch. She covered me up, then held my hand. “Go on.”
“That day was hell. The prison smelled like ammonia covered up in Pledge. I can still hear the way my heels clacked on the floor that first day. The walls closed in around me. As I walked towards the security guard, I swallowed nothing but dry air. My left eye twitched. I suddenly hated my friend Janie. I hated her for getting married and asking me to be her maid of honor. I hated hiring Jessica. I hated loving Jessica. I hated everything about Jessica at that point.”
“Understandable.” She squeezed my hand.
“When I approached the gray-haired man in uniform, he smiled at me and ushered me to a chair. I had to remove my shoes and jewelry just like at an airport. He treated me with dignity. My nerves shook every part of me, and he placed his gentle hand on my back and guided me to sit. I cried under his compassion. He had asked me if it was my first time. I couldn’t even talk.”
Ruby rubbed my arm, up and down, in long soothing strokes.
“He patted my shoulder blade and told me it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Was it?”
“It was no massage, I can tell you that.” I reached up for her hand. I laced my fingers in hers and admired their grace. I kissed them, one at a time with my trembling lips.
“Well, darling, nothing’s going to be like my massage.” She teased me with a wink. “Get to the part when you see her.”
“Okay, so they take me to this room with Plexiglas, a row of chairs, and telephone receivers. I sat in the chair and waited. The room spun. I braced my hands on the counter, stood up, and contemplated just running and never looking back. Honestly, I was so angry. So incredibly angry that she did this to herself. Then, the door opened, and in she walked on the other side of the glass wearing an orange jumpsuit.”
Ruby nodded, squirming. “I can’t imagine.”
“I just remember her eyes. They drooped. The life in them had vanished. The sparkle faded. Her jaw hung like a drug addict. She walked without swagger, without attitude. She didn’t smile. She just sat down across from me and eyed her end of the receiver with gloom. I picked up my end first. I tried on a smile, but she didn’t look. She just shook her head, exhaled, and stared up to the ceiling. I tapped on the glass, and the guard said no tapping the glass, ma’am.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” I blew out some air. “So, I sat there, studying her sullen face and lifeless body. Finally, she bowed her head and picked up the receiver. I said hi to her as sweetly as possible. She sat staring at the counter, not reciprocating. Her chin quivered and finally she burst into a crying fit. Tears flew. She choked on them. She hung her head in shame. She didn’t once meet my eye. She just cried like a baby in an orange jumpsuit.”
Ruby laid down beside me and curled up under the blanket.
“She did this for five minutes. I cradled the phone to my ear and prayed she would say something that I could walk away with that would offer me some peace. The guard stood in the corner staring straight ahead as if all too familiar with this scene. Then the guard told us to wrap up our visit. She pointed her eyes directly at me. “Don’t come back,” she whispered.
Ruby hugged me tightly.
“She hung up, and without looking at me, she walked out of the room.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Well, so the next day I drove back to show her I would not abandon her, that we would get through this together. That’s what we did. We got through things.”
“Blend to mend.”
“Yes,” I said. “Blend to mend.”
We shared a sigh.
“So, I walked up to the receptionist again, stated my name, and waited for her to hand me my name badge.”
“The red headed bitch that the whore from the club told you about?” Ruby asked.
I hugged her, comforted by her spunk. “No. Just the same mean one with the tight bun. She said I wasn’t on the list.”
“She took you off the list?”
“She took me off of the list.”
“So then what?”
“Dazed, I walked straight out of the door, straight past a mother tugging her two screaming toddlers by their tiny hands, and to my car. Then I sped away, numb. I didn’t want to return home where her scent still lingered. I reached up to my dashboard and picked up the yellow duck she placed there a year ago. I opened my window and tossed it out. Then, I opened up the console and tore out her golf gloves. I tossed them out too. For the ten miles I drove, I left a trail of Jessica on the road.”
“So how did you get back on the list?”
“My sister asked her.”
“Your sister?”
We shared a laugh. “My sister to the rescue.”
“Are you sad when you see her in there?”
“I feel very sad for her.”
“Why are you with her? Why do you stay true to someone who has screwed up your life?”
I hinged on Ruby’s question. “I’m holding out for the hope that when she comes back to me, she’ll come back recharged and fun again. This new Jessica, isn’t really her. Jail is making her into this person. Once she’s out of jail, we’ll be able to get past all of this stuff. I’m sure of it.”
She cupped my cheek in her hand. “Have you ever cheated on her?”
“I’m not that kind of person.”
“Of course you’re not,” she whispered with a tease pulling on the corner of her moist lips.
Chapter Twelve
Ruby
My massage chair business grew quickly. I didn’t have to, but I worked every lunch hour and every happy hour. Then later, Shawna and I would sit at the bar and talk about hair, makeup, and shoes. She loved shoes. She wore a different pair every night, and they ranged from flats, to sandals, to heels far too high to be comfortable behind a bar.
One night, after I closed up my massage chair, I went into the lounge for a drink. Shawna couldn’t keep up with her orders. Customers filled every last seat. Her face flushed. She didn’t even see me when I walked up to her. She rushed past and stuck a pencil behind her ear. So, I decided to step in and help her out. I walked behind the bar and took some guy’s order for a shot of Sambuca. As I poured it, Shawna turned away from a trio of guys and locked eyes with me. She ran towards me, flinging her hands up. “Get out from back there.”
She looked angry, like I’d just stolen her dog or her wallet or a great parking space at the mall at Christmas rush. She charged at me. I freaked out and hopped back over to the customer side of the bar. “Sorry.” I slid out of her way as she tossed the empty tray on the bar.
“Please don’t mess this up for me.” Her eyes pleaded. Fear hung on each spoke.
“How would I mess this up for you?”
Despair leaked from her cheeks. “You’re not supposed to be behind the counter. If you got caught, I could get myself and Nadia in a lot of trouble. She went out on a
limb here to hire me. Her brother-in-law can be a real asshole when he wants to be.”
“I just wanted to help.” My words fell out of my mouth. “I would never try to get you in trouble.”
She sighed. “Not everybody is carefree like you, dear.”
She walked away, shaking her head. For the first time, I felt out of place at the Gateway Suites Lounge. I sped out of there, through the back door and out into the dark parking lot. I climbed into my Camaro and sped away, cursing at the starless night for being so dark and dreary.
I turned on the radio, searching for a song. Every station played a commercial. So I drove all the way back to Jamestown in silence, fighting the deep gnawing in the pit of my stomach, blinking away the look of angst on Shawna’s face.
I hated that I angered her. I hated even more that I cared.
Fuck friendships. What good were they anyway? The structure, expectations, and rules just complicated things. Yet, friendships depended on such details.
I didn’t want to be counted on as a friend because I’d never be a good one. I would never be there in times of trouble. I would run away from dramatic, emotional phone calls in the middle of the night. I would never know what to advise someone if ever someone asked my opinion. I’d dish out the wrong advice, and next thing I’d be sitting in the front row of a funeral home staring at her casket because I, Ruby Clark, didn’t tell her the right move.
I cried the rest of the drive home.
When I finally arrived at my place, I sat on my front porch and soothed myself by fantasizing about fun times with Nadia. She didn’t infringe on my life. She didn’t expect anything from me. She didn’t set blind rules and get angry when I ignored them without even knowing. With Nadia, I was free. I would always remain free, because that would be the only way I’d ever fully live a life I could one day look back on and say, I played my cards as I saw fit.
Never would someone else get that ability to take over those cards or my life. I would never live as my mom did, wielding to a psychotic man, living like a little mouse pretending to enjoy the feast of old moldy cheese for the sake of keeping his spirits high so he wouldn’t beat her with a belt. Never would I seek what the average person sought in life, marriage and undying love. That didn’t exist. That was a façade. It ruined lust. It ruined passion. It killed a person, like Grace killed Grampa’s spirit.
In my game plan, I would have fun. I would spend my days laughing, smiling, and playing. I would not owe anyone my commitment therefore no one could get upset with me or accuse me of crossing lines and not staying true.
Nadia didn’t cling. She didn’t need me. She wouldn’t expect me to drop my life for hers because Jessica had already done that for her. For these reasons, she captivated me. Her mystery magnetized her to me. I wanted to always remain a mystery to each other. I wanted us guessing about the lives we spent outside our massages. I wanted to allow our personal lives to breathe so that when we came back together again, we’d always get high on the adrenaline and euphoria that circled us.
Thank God for Jessica.
Nadia’s marriage actually saved us from future demise, standing in as a safety switch for my desire, saving me from falling where relationships crumbled and ended up broken at the bottom of an abyss.
I wanted to wonder about her when she traveled back to Connecticut. Not in a creepy sort of way, but rather a curious, simmering way. The more mystery, the less inclined I’d be to fly the nest that encapsulated our friendly moments together. I wanted that nest to be light and airy, a place to come to for affection, and a place to easily escape when the spark started to twitch and fade.
I wanted to crave her always.
Why didn’t people offer the same flexibility in friendships? Why did Shawna carve out these unwritten rules and not explain them to me? How was I supposed to know I couldn’t help her? Did I look like a mind reader?
I hated drama. I hated that an unsettled feeling brewed in me. I hated that I wasted the entire evening worrying.
I went back inside and fretted more over a bowl of cheese curls and a bottle of Budweiser. As I sipped the last of the beer, I heard a knock on my door. I opened it, and Shawna stood with a silly grin on her face holding my sweater. “You forgot something.” Fresh lip gloss coated her lips and dramatic eye shadow deepened her eyes. “Have you been crying?”
I wiped under my swollen eyes.
“I don’t believe anyone’s ever cried for me before.” She pulled in her bottom lip and tightened it, wobbling on the threat of a break down.
I fought to keep my trembling chin in order. “I would never compromise your job on purpose.”
“I know.” She handed my sweater to me. “But you could’ve.”
“I’d never let a friend of mine get into trouble,” I said.
A smile shined across her face. “You think of me as a friend?”
I folded the sweater over my arm. “Don’t you think of me as a friend?”
She blinked extra slowly as if I’d just spoken to her in Russian.
“Do you not want me to be your friend?” I asked, annoyed now.
Again, a long extended blink. Then, a hand up to her mouth and a fresh batch of tears. She bit into her finger, and her shoulders started to buck. Soon she folded over at the waist and clung to her knees, crying.
I cradled her to me and let her have a good cry. I eventually joined in. The two of us clung to each other like pathetic, weepy fools, crying over friendship.
Mid-sniff she stood up. Her eyes were swollen and red. “Thank you.”
“For?”
She backed away down to the steps of my porch and waved at me. “For being my friend.” She ran off into the dark night, and I just stood there speechless, not sure how to digest her weird act of driving thirty miles to deliver my sweater in the middle of the night. Had she never been friends with someone before?
I sat on my couch, kicked my feet up and closed my eyes. Then my cell dinged. I read Shawna’s message: “Thank you for being my friend.”
My heart clenched. I allowed the drama to marinate within. I texted her back and told her how she honored me by calling me friend.
* *
Nadia and Shawna arrived at my grampa’s apartment with blueberry muffins in hand. Grampa reached out to Nadia for the box. “Now, see there,” he said to me. “She’s a keeper.” He nudged me.
“She’s already taken.” I hugged his shoulders and guided him to the side. “Let the poor girls enter. It’s getting chilly outside.”
We ate blueberry muffins while grampa showed off his story books to the girls. He handwrote each one over the years and drew stick figures in marker for the book covers. “It’s not my art they come to see.” He laughed. Bentley jumped on his lap, and he scratched the top of his head. Bentley purred.
Bentley always hated when I scratched his head.
The girls browsed his collection, and he glowed with their gushing.
By the time we left his apartment we had missed mass.
“How about we change it up for you a little this week with a different activity?” Nadia swung an arm around his neck and helped guide him into the front seat of her CRV.
“Thank you. By God. Yes, please,” Grampa said, as if she just pulled him from the wreckage of a fiery car. Then, he rolled down the window and stuck his hand out like a little kid. “Take us somewhere fun.”
She turned around to the backseat. “What do you say, pretty girl?”
I blew her a kiss, and she blinked extra heavily. I swallowed a moan and settled in for the ride.
Grampa turned around and offered a mint to Shawna. “You’re sweet enough, but I’m offering one to you anyway.”
“Oh, aren’t you a cutie?” She took one from him.
“You think I’m cute now, just wait until I’m a few years older and have a little more gray hair on this head.” He chuckled, and we all joined in.
I sat up and messed with his hair. “Grampa, always flirting.”
“
I see where you get it from now,” Nadia said.
Shawna snuck me a smile and nudged my side with her elbow. When Nadia took off, Shawna mouthed, “You’re all red.”
I pushed her elbow away and turned to admire the pine trees rushing by us.
A few minutes later, Nadia pulled into the parking lot of a pottery café. My heart flipped. I gazed through the window at the adorable pieces displayed in the front window. “I love pottery.”
Nadia glanced at me from the rearview window. We shared an extended stare, and she ended with a wink. This girl had some hold over me.
We climbed out of the car and walked into the pottery café. The place buzzed with people. Everything looked sunny and bright, from the yellow walls to the red flowered border to the speckled floor tiles. A lady wearing a polka dotted apron approached with a smile. Nadia stepped up. “I reserved a table for four.”
The lady took my grampa’s arm in the crook of hers. “Right this way.”
My grampa swaggered alongside of her with a gigantic smile on his face.
Shawna followed a few close steps behind. I grabbed Nadia’s hand and eased up to her side. “You have just made my grampa the happiest man in the world.”
She pointed her gaze down to my lips and back up to my eyes. “It’s just pottery.”
I squeezed her hand. “Just pottery, huh?”
Her lips curved upwards. “Just pottery.”
A few minutes later, we were playing with the clay like a group of kids. My grampa rolled his around forming a baseball. “I don’t know how I ever got it so smooth,” he said, admiring it.
I nudged Nadia’s knee. She nudged mine back. Then, we just left them nestled up against each other under the privacy of the table.
“So, you’re already taken, dear?” he asked Nadia.
She shrugged. “Yes, sir.”
“How long?”
“We’ve been together for several years.”
“Is he handsome like me?”
She shot me a look.
I nodded. “It’s okay. Tell him.”
“She, sir. I married a woman.”
He rolled his perfect baseball around on the table. “Well, I guess I’ve got no shot, then, huh?”