Friends and Other Liars

by Kaela Coble

  Once we’re outside, I point to the farthest corner of the lot where I’m parked. The lot is not large, but the walk seems endless. I haven’t been alone with Murphy since the summer before I left for college. I cringe, thinking about that summer. “So, Ally tells me your business is doing well,” I say. I’m trying to rebalance from the drama that just occurred, but my voice shakes. My mind is still trapped in a time I have fought so hard to put behind me.

  When he doesn’t answer me, I risk a glance at him. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans, making him look like he’s mid-shrug. I try not to notice the muscles showing through his formfitting T-shirt. The tattoo is still throwing me, as is the gray peppering the thick head of hair that used to be black as night. I never dreamed he would be any different than he was the last time I saw him, as if he was just going to freeze in place when I left.

  But he didn’t. There’s no sign of the extra layer of fat he grew up with, and his posture is straighter, more confident. I had just started to look at him as handsome before I left for college, but it’s still a shock to see him like this. It’s like I blinked, and the boy who used to wear a T-shirt to go swimming disappeared in favor of this…man. A beautiful man at that. A head-turning kind of man.

  I tear my eyes away, wondering if I should bring up the confrontation with Brandy. Wondering, most of all, if I should ask who the hell this Krystal is. When I look at him, though, he is smiling a bemused smile and staring off into nowhere. When he finally speaks, it’s not to talk about any of that.

  “Where you been, Tuesday?” It’s the question I didn’t think he’d ask. We walk in silence the last few feet to my car.

  I sigh. “You know where I’ve been, Murphy. New York. London. New York again.”

  “No phones in New York or London? I mean, I can understand why you didn’t call me, but Ally? Emmett? Danny?”

  “I…got busy.” The excuse is pathetic and untrue. I look down, my hands trembling as I search for the right key through the tears that fill my eyes again. He takes both of my hands in his and pulls me to face him. His brown eyes are like magnets, and I don’t know how long we look at each other before he reaches into my clasped hands, fishes out my keys, and swiftly inserts the one with the Nissan emblem on it into the keyhole. Our gaze breaks along with the tension.

  “Still drivin’ this thing around, huh? Old Blue?” he teases, his tone suddenly jovial again.

  “It’s been in my parents’ garage all these years. You know Nancy,” I say as I open the door and climb into the driver’s seat. It’s the middle of September and just cold enough for an open window to be unnecessary. I crank it down anyway to get another few minutes with him.

  “It’s a perfectly good car!” Murphy says, in a spot-on imitation of Nancy. “No use getting rid of something that works just fine!”

  I laugh, and he crouches down and rests his arms on the windowsill. “Nice to hear that sound again,” he says. I’m starting up the car, so I don’t know if he’s talking about Blue’s sad little engine or my laugh. Again, our eyes lock. Suddenly the smile is gone, and his face is moving toward me. No, I think, but my head moves toward him despite it.

  “Hey, Murphy! Wanna get a move on? The bar’s closed, and I need to take a piss!” Emmett. Sweet, eloquent Emmett.

  “Yeah, I’m comin’,” Murphy says. He looks at me one last time, smiling, and gives his shaggy head a shake.

  “Drive safe,” he says. He stands up, but seems to change his mind and leans in again. “You know, you’ve come a long way since Hardy Crane, Tuesday.”

  I watch as he walks away with a sad smile on his face. As soon as I pull around the corner and am out of sight, I cry the whole way home.

  5

  ALLY

  BACK THEN—(ALMOST) JUNIOR YEAR

  I don’t like what I’m seeing with Ruby and Hardy Crane. Hardy has that look in his eye, the same look my dad used to get before he went out hunting with Uncle Charlie. And he’s refilling Ruby’s shot glass like he’s looking for a tip, and I don’t mean a dollar bill. His antenna is up for sure—the one that tells him when there’s a vulnerable girl around.

  Meanwhile, Danny and Emmett just sit there, laughing as Ruby gets wasted. I can understand Danny—he does, after all, have a skewed version of what wasted means, and he doesn’t want to offend his best customer—but Emmett, Mr. Sobriety, is trying to be Mr. Cool just because we’re sophomores and Hardy is a senior. Who cares? It’s his second time being one; that doesn’t exactly make him Top Shit.

  I figured Hardy would leave Danny’s house after Danny sold him whatever it was he wanted, but he’s still here and for no good reason. I mean, he’s on the hockey team with Aaron, but they are not friends. Aaron knows what happened when Hardy and I dated. It’s actually how Aaron and I met. When I was a freshman, I was too dumb to know better, and I fell for Hardy’s bad boy act too. But only for a week or so.

  On our third “date” (if you count mud bogging in his truck and him pawing me on Lester Gabrioult’s couch as dates one and two), Hardy took me to the homecoming after-party at Dunphy’s field, got so drunk he pissed his pants, and slapped me across the face when I tried to quietly point it out. Hardy’s friends hauled him away, and I was too shocked to move. Then Aaron came out of nowhere, this handsome guy I’d seen around the halls at Chatwick High who came from the Town School. He offered me a ride home in his brother’s car, and we’ve been together ever since.

  I don’t know why Ruby is even talking to Hardy, let alone going shot for shot with a guy who uses his liver like a toilet. She’s never really been a big drinker, at least not compared to the rest of us. I’m guessing because she doesn’t want to end up like her mother. I mean, she’ll have a beer or two and take a poke of whatever’s being passed around, but I’ve never seen her drunk. That would mean she’d have to lose some control, and we all know she can’t do that. But suddenly she’s Miss Free Spirit, sniffing after my sloppy seconds.

  I think I’ve been pretty good about giving her space since she’s been staying at my house (as much space as you can give when you’re sharing a bed), but clearly she isn’t dealing with her family drama as well as she’d like us all to believe. Wouldn’t you think if your mother landed in rehab and your father told you he’s not coming back until she’s sober for a year, you would want to talk about it? Especially with someone who knows what it’s like for your dad to quit on you?

  Not Ruby though. When she’s going through stuff, she wants to be left alone. And if you push her, she’ll just clam up more. So I let her be, and try not to be too mad when she sneaks out of bed and brings the cordless into the bathroom to call Murphy. Ruby is usually pretty serious, especially these days, but you’d think she was at a comedy show from the sounds I hear coming from that bathroom. Murphy’s not even that funny.

  It makes no sense to me. When we were really little, Ruby and Murphy weren’t very close. In fact, they sort of “went out” for like a week in sixth grade just because everyone else was going out with people and they didn’t want to be left out. But after they went to the movies, Ruby came back and complained that Murphy’s hand was sweaty when he tried to hold hers, and Murphy complained that Ruby wouldn’t let him kiss her, and that was that.

  And then suddenly, right around the time Danny’s stepfather died, Ruby, Murphy, and Danny seemed to spin off into their own little crew within the crew. I get Ruby and Danny—their families are the most messed up, even considering my parents are divorced—but Murphy? I’m guessing he started hanging around her so much because she got boobs.

  Anyway, when Ruby’s dad checked Nancy into rehab and then decided to take his own little vacation from parenthood, he made arrangements for Ruby to stay with us. He left her plenty of money, but she still insists on working at that secondhand store. I used to think she just liked having clothes different from the rest of the kids at school—although I personally don’t see what�
�s wrong with shopping at the Burlington Mall at the Gap or American Eagle for brand-new clothes that haven’t been sweated in and who knows what else by some stranger.

  But now I think it has something to do with the old ladies she works for. They’re like forty and fifty. I don’t know what they could possibly have to talk about, but every time I walk in there to visit her, they’re just chattering away. Maybe it’s because she’s like an old lady herself. No one knows that about her, because she’s been through so much and talks tough and smokes cigarettes like a chimney. But underneath that, all she cares about is getting good grades. I swear, when we used to ride the bus together, she would pull out a book and just sit there and read. What a nerd! I mean, I’m sitting right there for her to talk to, and she’s got her nose stuck in a book. How rude!

  And speaking of rude, the boys are getting less helpful by the minute. Jenny shows up, Danny’s girlfriend (or whatever she is to him these days; I can’t keep track), so he disappears into his room with her. Nicki’s parents are out of town again, so Emmett leaves to take advantage of her empty house, and Aaron and Murphy, Ruby’s so-called best friend, haven’t gotten back from their munchie run to the Quik Stop, leaving me all alone as Hardy moves in on Ruby. I have to do everything around here. When Hardy goes to refill Ruby’s glass again, I finally say, “Ruby, I think you’ve had enough.”

  Ruby just glares at me—like I’m the bad guy here!—and Hardy says, “Ooh-hoo, looks like someone’s jealous she’s not getting all the attention anymore.”

  “Oh fuck off, Hardy, that has nothing to do with it.” Yeah, right, I’m jealous. I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants with this whole show he’s putting on. I’m just not sure why Ruby is going along with it. It’s like she’s trying to hurt me and herself at the same time. “Look at her!” I say. “She can’t hardly stand up!”

  “Ally, I take care of m’self,” Ruby slurs.

  “Clearly,” I say. She nods her head self-righteously, not picking up on my sarcasm.

  Hardy mutters something about being “over this business” and makes like he’s going to leave. Good riddance to white trash. This town is crawling with it, and Hardy is just one example of white trash who happens to be good at something (okay two things—hockey and funneling beer), so he’s actually popular in spite of it. Just when I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief, he turns to Ruby. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, like he couldn’t give a shit whether she said yes or no.

  Ruby just nods. I stand in front of her as she goes to follow him. “Ruby St. James, you are not getting in a car with someone who’s been taking shots all night.”

  She pushes past me, says again she can take care of herself. “You’re not my mother!” she yells as she struggles to slip on her shoes.

  “Yeah, I know. Because if I were, I would be in rehab!” I yell back. It stops her in her tracks, and the hurt in her eyes makes me immediately regret saying it. But in my defense, for one, it’s the truth; for two, she’s treating me like shit just because I’m trying to protect her from being killed; and for three, I’m hoping it will make her mad enough that she’ll stay here and fight with me.

  It doesn’t work. She slams the door behind her, and I hear the tires screech out of the driveway a minute later.

  • • •

  I sit up all night waiting for Ruby to come back, pacing and worrying like her goddamn mother should be doing. I switch between being pissed as all hell and sorry about what I said.

  The thing you should know about Nancy St. James, in case this all comes back around to me, is that she’s not always a useless, crazy drunk. Most of the time, she’s like June frickin’ Cleaver. Like bake sale director, food drive organizer, Halloween costume seamstress for Ruby and for me (because my mother has a job and zero sewing skills), cheerleader at Ruby’s debate club and my tennis matches and Murphy’s baseball games and Emmett’s basketball games and Danny’s… Well, Danny isn’t heavy into extracurriculars that don’t involve getting high, but you get the point.

  I mean, sure, once every few months she’s been asked to leave one of those events because the encouraging words she shouts are a little slurred and there’s booze on her breath, but at least she makes the effort, right? She even has this slight southern accent that for some reason always makes me want to strap on an apron and make a cobbler or something. And the St. Jameses’ house is so neat, with every last thing always in its proper place. Sometimes we rearrange her tchotchkes just to see if she’ll notice. She always notices.

  Then every once in a while, she’ll get in this mood. Ruby calls them black periods, and it has something to do with being manic-depressive. Nancy stops coming to our games, and she stays in her room when we come over, and she stops doing all the stuff that makes her Top Shit Mom. After a week or so of that, she starts drinking. I don’t know if she’s trying to cheer herself up or what, but she drinks at home for a few days before she runs out of booze at the time of night when it’s too late to restock at the gas station. When that happens, she heads down to Margie’s and doesn’t leave until she’s forced to.

  Mr. St. James used to fish her out of there, but if the rumors are true, one night he found Nancy making out with some ’necker and said he was done rescuing her. So since before either of us even had permits, Ruby’s been taking her dad’s BMW to drive the four blocks down to Margie’s and back. The whole town knows she does it, but they don’t say anything because she can’t be expected to drag Nancy kicking and screaming up that hill all by herself, and it’s better than Nancy’s drunk ass driving home. The advantage for the rest of us was that Ruby learned to sneak out and to drive so well that she could easily steal the car other times, just to tool around with us, and she taught all of us to drive.

  When Aaron and Murphy finally get back, they’ve already devoured the entire food supply on the walk. Aaron is so stuffed he’s “too tired” to stay up with me, so he goes to bed in the basement. I love him, but sometimes I could just pop him one. Murphy asks where Ruby is and I tell him exactly. He looks all worried for a second, but then he just goes to the spare room to sleep. Now it’s frickin’ three in the morning, and I’m sitting here on the love seat all by myself, flipping between the “Are You My Daddy?” talk show and an infomercial for this vibrating belt you strap to your stomach to lose weight.

  “I can think of something else you can use that belt for,” comes Danny’s voice from the doorway.

  I snap my tongue. “Ew, Danny, don’t be gross,” I say, but I lift up the afghan that’s covering me so he knows he’s welcome to sit with me. My legs are swung out, so I lift them too, and when he sits down, I rest them on his lap. I wouldn’t do it if Aaron were here, but that little bastard went to bed, and Danny and I have been friends since we were little, so I don’t really care what Aaron thinks.

  “Where’s Jenny?” I ask.

  “Sleeping,” he says, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “She’s very worn out.”

  I sock him on the arm. “What is the deal with you two? I thought you broke up.”

  He shrugs. “We did.”

  I do not understand their relationship, or really any of his relationships. Danny’s one of those guys who doesn’t like labels. He says putting a label on the interactions of two people suddenly shackles them to “a matrix of appropriate behaviors that correspond with that label.” I don’t understand what the hell he’s talking about half the time.

  “What are you doing awake?” Danny asks, giving my feet a squeeze over the afghan.

  “Waiting for Ruby to come back.”

  He looks at me, confused. “She’s not with Murphy in the spare room?”

  “No. She’s out with Hardy.”

  He looks at me like I just told him Ruby left with Marilyn Manson or something. “Oh shit,” he says. He leans away from me against the arm of the couch, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

  “Yeah.”


  “This is my fault.”

  “No it’s not,” I say, laying one hand on his shoulder.

  “He was here because of me. I know what kind of guy he is. But I just thought Ruby was finally blowing off some steam. I never would have expected…”

  “Hey,” I say. “None of us would. Danny, look at me.” I grab the hand that’s still on my feet and hold it in mine. “You know how Ruby is once she gets something in her head. Remember that time she made us climb Hardrock Trail at midnight on New Year’s Eve? Even if none of us followed her, she still would have done it.”

  But his face doesn’t change. I can see he won’t forgive himself. “I should have stuck around until Hardy left. I should have protected her. She’s always done that for me.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  He looks into my eyes then, and I see a sadness I’ve seen before. I saw it the day I first brought Aaron to his house. I saw it for a long time after Roger died, and sometimes even before. He opens and closes his mouth, and I know whatever he’s going to tell me is big, but then Ruby waltzes in.

  She’s not drunk anymore. At least, she’s not stumbling all over the place. But she does look like hell. Her hair’s all messed up, her eyes are puffy, and her shorts and tank top are wrinkled to shit. It doesn’t take a genius, but I still can’t believe it. Ruby St. James, Miss Top Shit Honor Roll, losing her virginity to some dumbass second-year senior? One that I dated, at that? I mean, it’s not like I’m proud of it or still like him, but shit, chick rules, you know?

  Danny stands up, and by the way he can hardly look at her, I know he knows what she’s been doing. “You okay?” he asks.

  For a second I think her face is going to crumple, but she changes her mind and gives him a bright smile. “I’m fine, Dan. Go on to bed.” He kisses her on the cheek before he follows her orders, leaving the room. And then it’s just the two of us.

  “Have fun?” I ask in a way that should tell her I’m pissed. I worried all night, and here she just strolls in without a word.