by Joyce Magnin
“I can make tea,” Ruby Day said.
The heat of the day had really started to build and the last thing anyone needed was a hot drink. “How about iced tea, Ruby Day? You got iced tea?”
Ruby shook her head. “I ain’t made any since …” Then she looked at her shoes—a pair of white Keds with blue laces.
“I can make some. Mama showed me how, and you know Mama makes the best iced tea in Makeshift.”
“She rightly does, Luna.”
Ruby Day followed me into the kitchen, where I started to boil a pot of water.
“Now, as soon as that starts bubbling, we’ll drop in the tea bags and let them steep.”
“Okay, Luna.” Ruby Day had her hands locked in front of her on the kitchen table. “I miss him, Luna. I miss Mason.”
“So do I, Ruby Day. So do I. But you know, I bet Mason is looking down on us right this minute.”
“But that ain’t possible, Luna.”
“Well, you know about angels, don’t you, Ruby Day?”
“I don’t believe in angels. They’s just fairy tales.”
She ran into the living room and stood there shaking with her hands balled into tight fists. Then all of a sudden, like a rattlesnake strike, she pulled her glasses off and threw them onto the couch. Her eyes turned so tiny they startled me. “Mason ain’t nowhere.” Ruby Day started to shriek like I never heard her. She sounded like a great blue heron the way the sound came from deep in the back of her throat.
I grabbed her shoulders. “Ruby Day. Ruby Day. Stop it.” I shook her slightly but she kept shrieking. I shook her harder while I fought the temptation to slap her face. The shrieks came louder until I couldn’t help myself and pushed her onto the couch. She fell with a thud and cried.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I tried to hold her but she wouldn’t let me.
“Just go home, Luna.”
The sour smell was back and I had to ignore it. “No, Ruby Day. I can’t leave you alone. You’ve got nobody to take care of you.” And the second the words left my mouth, I knew I shouldn’t have said them, because Ruby Day let out another shriek. But then it stopped and she let me hold her for a few moments.
“I bet the water is boiling. What say we go make some iced tea.”
Ruby jammed her glasses onto her face. “Okay, Luna.”
I placed seven tea bags in the water with their tags hanging over the side like tiny shirts left out to dry. “In a little bit we’ll add the sugar and the lemon, then some water, and … bingo. Iced tea.”
Ruby Day swallowed. “I am thirsty, but right now I think I’d like to go get on my gardenin’ clothes and go out to the back with the lupines.”
“Sure, Ruby Day. You go get changed and I’ll finish up the tea.”
I looked around the kitchen. I had been in the room about a gazillion times. I opened the cabinets and all I saw were a couple cans of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, spaghetti, and graham crackers. Ruby Day had precious little to eat. The more I wandered around the house, the more I realized that Mason had been taking care of Ruby Day like she was the child for nearly his whole life.
Mason never talked much about his father. Actually, Mason never, ever talked about him, and all I knew was what Mama told me. Ruby Day’s husband died when Mason was only a tiny baby. And then, Mama said that all she knew was, “Ruby Day and Mason lived with Ruby Day’s father until Mason was seven years old—that was when her father died and they moved to Makeshift.” But that’s all anyone knew for sure.
Mason’d been caring for his mama ever since. I just didn’t understand it until that day. She really couldn’t take care of herself—by herself. She needed help. Mason did tell me that Ruby Day’s Uncle Charles would show up every now and again and check on them. But even so, Ruby Day needed everyday help.
I tossed the tea bags into the trash, added the sugar, and fortunately I found a bottle of ReaLemon Juice in the fridge and poured a tablespoon into the mixture. Then I added some ice and dumped it all in a pitcher, added cold water, and poured two tall glasses of iced tea.
Ruby Day was out back tending to her flowers, and I watched from the kitchen window. She squatted on her bare heels, rocking back and forth like an old lady. I imagined her thoughts were so heavy she could barely lift her head under the weight. The sun, now on the down side of her journey, cast long shadows of Ruby Day’s flowers onto the grass.
I snatched a sun hat from a nail near the back door, stuffed it under my arm, and stepped outside carrying the two glasses of iced tea. The glasses began sweating from the collision of heat and cold, small droplets running down and onto my wrists, cooling them.
“They get bugs this time of year,” Ruby Day said. “I can pick most of ‘em off.” Ruby Day was sweating in the sun. She wiped her forehead with the back of her gloved hand.
“Here you go, ice-cold tea. Sweet, the way you like it.”
Ruby Day took the glass, sipped, and then set the glass on the lawn. “Thank you, Luna.”
I crouched down and tied the wide-brimmed hat onto her head. “Don’t want to get sunstroked, Ruby Day.”
She looked up at me, squinting. After a few seconds she let go a thin laugh. “I always forget my hat.” Then she went back to picking aphids off the purple flowers like I wasn’t even there anymore.
I stayed at Ruby Day’s house for a little while longer. I washed the few dishes in the sink before I noticed an odd, mildewy smell coming from the laundry room—actually a little service porch off the kitchen. I opened the washer and the odor hit. Wet clothes that must have been there since the day of Mason’s accident. I added more detergent and started a second washing. Then I ran the vacuum and dusted the living room, making sure to pay close attention to the pictures of Mason that Ruby had scattered all around the room. I will admit it was hard, and I shed tears as I went along, but by the time I finished I knew I was faced with a problem that I didn’t think anyone else in Makeshift County was thinking about: What would come of Ruby Day?
CHAPTER 6
I left Ruby Day just before dinnertime, even though I was feeling a frightful amount of worry for her staying in the house all night, all alone, after she just buried her only boy. The thought made me swallow about a dozen times before I hugged her tight.
“Now listen to me, Ruby Day. You watch TV until ten o’clock and then go to bed.” I looked her square in the eye the way Mason always did when he needed her to understand. “And if you cook anything, make sure you turn the flame off when you’re done or you could burn down your house.”
She swiped at tears. “All right, Luna. I will.”
All I could do was stand there and heave a great sigh, feeling like a whole mountain of burden had just been dropped on my shoulders. Ruby Day was suddenly completely alone, and I couldn’t stand the thought.
I walked home thinking and thinking about Ruby Day batting around her house with nothing particular to do now that Mason wasn’t there for her to tend to. I imagined her sitting on the couch watching cartoons and forgetting to eat, forgetting to wash up, maybe forgetting to breathe now that her son was with Jesus. I looked to the sky as a lacy cloud skirted by. For a minute I thought I saw Mason’s smile.
Mama was preparing one of her cold summer-day meals for supper. She hollowed out cantaloupes and filled them with fresh fruit. Then she made ham-and-cheese sandwiches and that was supper.
Daddy had gone off to work after the funeral so he wasn’t there. He and the other plumbers were laying a new water service near the new houses they were building behind the high school. Daddy said it would be good summer money, enough to maybe make a real family vacation possible. We all cheered when he said it. Even Polly Dog, who was sitting as close as she could to me, let go one of her happy barks. When Polly sat on her haunches the top of her head reached my kneecaps, so I could easily scratch behind her ears. She liked that best of all.
Most of the men in Makeshift worked the coal mines, following their daddies into the deep earth. But not my d
addy. He said some men needed to stay on top of the world to take care of things that needed taking care of, like toilets and pipes.
“Luna,” Mama said, “how’s Ruby Day?”
I shook my head. “She ain’t good. She’s just preten-din’ to be good.”
Mama took my hands in hers. “Sometimes pretending is a good thing. Before you know it, you ain’t pretending anymore.”
I pulled my hands back. “I need to get out of this dress. I’ll be down to help in a minute.”
Mama looked at me with needle-sharp eyes that cut right through. “You got somethin’ on your mind, Luna.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Maybe, Mama.”
But I didn’t tell her just then. I went to my room where Delores was sitting at her vanity table primping herself like always.
“You can keep trying,” I said, “but no amount of powder is gonna change your pig nose.”
Delores looked at me in the mirror. “I hate you, Luna.” She tossed a bottle of something, I didn’t know what, at my head. It hit the wall.
I pulled a pair of shorts out of my drawer and looked at Delores. I had no right to say what I said. It was jealousy that made me say mean things to her, since Delores was so pretty. “I’m sorry, Dee,” I said. “I’m sorry I said you had a pig nose. I don’t wanna fight anymore.”
She glared at me in the mirror.
I changed into shorts and a light, cottony blouse, which I tied across my midriff to be cooler.
“Daddy’ll make you untie that shirt, you know.”
“I know. But he ain’t home yet.”
The twins bounced into the room with basketballs.
Delores banged her brush on the table. “Can’t I ever get any privacy around here?”
I tried to shoo the girls out but they refused and started jumping on their beds.
“Stop it,” Delores screamed. “Just stop it now or I’ll tell Mama.”
April stuck out her tongue.
“Maybe Daddy will finish that basement room he’s always talking about,” I said.
That garnered nothing more than another glare from Delores. She was right. No one believed Daddy would ever finish the room.
The twins tired of bouncing and left carrying their dolls—one with knotted-up hair and dirty clothes and the other with long, silky strands and a neat dress. The dolls always made me think of Delores and me.
Mama and I finished preparing fresh fruit—strawberries, cantaloupe, honeydew, blueberries, apples, bananas, and one mango that Daddy got as payment for fixing Grace Pickler’s leaking faucets. Mangoes weren’t readily available at Haskell’s Grocery Store, and Grace claimed she got it from a visiting missionary on furlough from South America. We filled the cantaloupe bowls once everything was cut. I stole a taste on account I never saw a mango in my whole life. It was sweet and juicy, and, as I held it in my mouth, for a second I was an exotic firewalker.
“Daddy will be home any second,” Mama said. “You better untie that blouse.”
I swallowed. “Fine. But I am nearly fourteen years old—old enough to make my own fashion choices, and besides, it’s hotter than … than jumpin’ blue—”
“Careful, Luna,” Mama said with a smile and raised eyebrows.
“Jumpin’ blue heck, Mama. I was gonna say jumpin’ blue heck.”
“Uh huh, now get out the ham and cheese and mustard, and grab that bag of chips from off the refrigerator.”
“Why’s Daddy always tossing them up there?”
“Been doin’ that for years.”
I opened the bag and dumped the contents into a large pottery bowl. “At least you got help.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m sorry, Mama. I’m just worried about Ruby Day and I miss … I miss Mason so much I don’t think I can stand it.” Mama moved toward me and pulled my hair back, tying it into a ponytail with a rubber band she had around her wrist. “The heat is making us all cranky, and it’s been a hard day.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “I miss him. I miss him so much.”
She pulled me into her chest. “I know, Luna Fish. He was your friend.”
“But why? Why did God take him? Why would God take a young boy—fifteen, and with a retarded mother and all. Why?”
Mama patted my head. “I don’t know, honey. Those questions cannot be answered on earth.”
I pulled away from her when I heard the station wagon pull into the driveway. “Daddy’s home.”
The kitchen table was crowded with food and people with arms in constant motion passing this and that, eating and slurping juice from the cantaloupe bowls. My whole family was gathered like it was an ordinary day. Well, all except for JT, who was off on a ship somewhere in the Mediterranean Ocean. I wrote him a letter and told him about Mason, but I figured it could be a few weeks before I heard anything back.
Jasper slipped Polly a piece of honeydew melon. She dropped it on the floor and I gave Jasper such a look that he reached down and picked it up. “Sorry,” he said.
“That’s right,” Mama said. “Polly doesn’t eat much fruit.”
I ate a few bites of my own fruit, but it wasn’t going down easy.
“Mama, Daddy,” I said as I pushed my plate away. “I got something to say.”
“Say it, Luna,” Daddy said. He sipped coffee.
“You got all these kids around the table, right?” I said.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Mama said. “And I love each one of you equally.”
“That ain’t it,” I said. “It’s just that … that—” I threw my napkin into my cantaloupe. “Ah, never mind.”
“What is it?” Daddy said. “I had a long hard day in the sun so I ain’t in no mood for games. Just say it. Haven’t I always told you to just say what’s on your mind instead of lettin’ stuff fester like a boil that pops when no one expects it or wants it?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Maybe I should excuse the children,” Mama said.
“Ah, phooey,” Jasper said. “We wanna stay and hear what Luna says.”
Mama looked at me for a long few seconds. “No, I think Luna’s got something important stuck in her craw. You kids go on upstairs. I’ll call you down for ice cream.”
After a few minutes of screeching chairs and weak protests, the kids, including a disgruntled Delores, were gone and I sat face-to-face with my parents.
“Okay, I’m just gonna say it. Just the way Daddy told me Mason was … was gone. He just said it, no hems or haws, just came right out and said it.”
Daddy laughed. “You’re hemming and hawing.”
“Okay, here goes.” I sucked nearly all the air out of the kitchen. “I think I should move in with Ruby Day and help her now on account of Mason being … being gone, and she don’t have anyone to take care of her, and she can’t live alone.” I took a deep rescue breath and let it out slowly. I had plenty of time to breathe. My parents looked at me like I had just that second sprouted onions out the top of my head.
At that moment Delores came bounding into the kitchen. “I think that’s a great idea. Just think, one less bed in our room. I could get my own dresser and more closet space and … and—” She nearly swooned.
“Delores Mae Gleason.” Mama stood from the table and took three steps toward my sister before Daddy pulled her back. “Steady, girl.”
“Delores Mae Gleason. You were eavesdropping. What have I taught you about eavesdropping? It’s despicable. Now go to your room and don’t come out until I tell you and … and do not, I repeat, do not tell your sisters and brother about this.”
“Well, it is a good idea,” she said and then skipped off.
The thing about Delores is that she had a selfish streak running down her back like white on a skunk, and she was about as surly and conceited as anyone could get. Claimed she was going to go to Hollywood one day and become a famous actress.
Mama sat back down at her place at the table. “Luna, I … I don’t know what t
o say. I can’t believe you would even ask that question. I had no inkling that you were thinking like this.”
“Well, it ain’t like I’ve been thinking long and hard, Mama. The idea just struck me today while I was with Ruby Day.”
“But we’re your family.” Mama’s eyes went wide.
“I know that. It’s just that Ruby Day has no family anymore.”
“So you’re gonna just move on in and become Ruby Day’s family, take Mason’s place?” Mama stood and started to clear the table. She piled plates on plates and brought them to the sink. “Whose turn is it for dishes t’night?”
“Delores’s,” I said. “And this time she better not let Polly lick them clean. She needs to wash them.”
Mama started heaving cantaloupe rinds into the trash. “Make certain this trash gets outside t’night, Justus. In this heat it’ll stink to high heaven by mornin’.”
Daddy looked at me and put his finger to his lips, like he sensed I was about to say something. “I’ll make certain, Louise.”
Then he directed his attention to me. “You go on now. Let your mama and me discuss this. You dropped quite a bomb on us, you know.”
“I know, Daddy. But … but Ruby Day can’t live all by herself.”
Mama swallowed. “Well, that ain’t our responsibility, Luna. She’s got to have family somewhere.”
I shook my head because no one cared for Ruby Day like Mason.
Mama pushed her fruit-juicy hand through her hair and grimaced when she realized what she’d done. “Just go on outside or upstairs, Luna. Please. Just go.”
