by Karen Hill
“Merde, I don’t know if this will work,” said Jean-Yves.
“I’m praying already,” said Ruby. Barely reaching the open window, she grabbed onto the ledge as her legs swayed against the wall.
“Goddammit, my arms aren’t strong enough. I can’t pull myself up!”
As Jean-Yves shoved her up by her dangling legs, Ruby was able to look in the window. Below her was a room with various sizes of presses and many vats for stomping grapes. Next to them lay a pile of hay.
Ruby managed to swing her legs through the window. The drop looked to be about fifteen feet. But she’d come this far, so she decided to just let go. She crashed down on top of the hay and let out a yelp. Her feet and her head went numb for a moment. She tumbled out of the hay and sat down on the floor. Jean-Yves swung over the ledge and landed with a thud next to her.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so . . . just wrenched out of place.” Ruby was lying on the cold floor, breathing slowly in and out, still shaken from the drop.
“Good,” said Jean-Yves. “Pretty soon it will be dark, so I want to show you this stuff while we can still see it.”
In the middle of the room stood a large press with a metal base and a wooden-and-metal vat attached inside. The vat was lined with sackcloth that stretched out over the edges. A gutter ran around the perimeter.
“The grapes go in here,” Jean-Yves explained. “The sackcloth keeps out skins and seeds and such. The juice runs through here and comes out in the gutter. Then it gets placed in barrels.”
He turned and ran his hand through Ruby’s hair and then tousled it.
Ruby smiled and asked, “Have you ever stomped grapes with your feet?”
“Bien sûr! Every year they have a grape-stomping contest here.”
“Why not put on a contest of our own?”
“You have to take off your sandals.”
“What else?”
Jean-Yves looked at her to see if she was serious. “Whatever else you want.”
“Mmm . . . why not everything?”
Jean-Yves reached in to kiss her lips and then murmured, “Okay, let’s do it.”
They lifted grapes from the vats into the basin until it was half-full. Ruby stood back and grinned. “Okay, you first.”
“No way. Ladies first.”
“Ah, but I am not a lady. Take your shoes and socks off. I command you.”
As Jean-Yves bent over to unlace his runners, Ruby smacked him hard on the bum. Then she continued, “Now take off your pants.”
He was about to protest, but he stopped as he saw the look of glee on her face. “Glad to oblige, glad to oblige.”
As she bent over to take off her sandals, Jean-Yves, standing in his underwear and shirt, tried to nuzzle his face into her breasts, but Ruby said, “Work before play,” and dropping her clothes, jumped into the vat. Jean-Yves followed, stripping as he went. They stomped and flailed their arms around and jumped up and down on the grapes like little kids. Every so often they crouched to lick off the juices that had sprayed up onto each other’s legs. Ruby took a handful of grapes and popped them in her mouth and then kissed Jean-Yves again, using her tongue to swish the broken bits of grapes into his mouth.
“Mmm, sweet . . . just like you.”
She grabbed his hand and they hopped out of the vat onto the cold floor. Again they embraced and then moved slowly towards a table that was pushed up against a wall. Jean-Yves backed Ruby up against the table. He sucked on her breasts and then let his hand slide over her stomach and then her crotch.
Suddenly the door flew open and the lights came on.
“Ruby!” exclaimed Emma.
“What the hell are you doing here?” demanded Tellier.
“Jeez, I thought you would have figured that out already,” Ruby answered.
“We’ve been looking all over for you two,” said Tellier. “Go get dressed.”
Ruby turned away and fumbled for her clothes, taking a moment to shoot daggers at Emma.
“I’m sorry,” Emma said. “I was worried that something had happened to you. What did you expect me to do?”
“Couldn’t you have waited till morning?”
“It’s after eleven. We’re supposed to be in our dorms by ten. I figured even if you had been screwing around you would have been back long ago. I had to work on Tellier to get him to look for you guys.”
“I’m surprised that you’d get so worked up over it. I’m not a teenager!”
Jean-Yves came up behind Ruby and wrapped his arms around her waist. He whispered into her ear, “Don’t worry, we will make up for it.”
“Yeah, we better.”
When they stepped outside, Tellier said, “Come see me before breakfast,” and walked away. When Ruby, Emma and Jean-Yves arrived at the dorm, they saw several men, including Willie, milling around, smoking. Jean-Claude smirked at them as they walked by.
“You bastard!” Willie yelled at Jean-Yves, punching his fists into the air.
Jean-Yves shook his head and smiled. “Get it through your head, kid—she doesn’t want you.”
Ruby shushed him, as she didn’t want any more fuss, but it was too late. Willie threw himself on top of Jean-Yves, knocking him to the ground. Willie was small but wiry and he held Jean-Yves in place while he tried to pummel him. Jean-Claude watched with glee, but two other men ran over and pulled them apart. Jean-Yves got up, dusted off his pants and walked over to where Willie was being pinned against a wall.
“Maudits étrangers,” he spat. “Ça pue des étrangers.”
Ruby yelled, “Don’t you dare say that it stinks of foreigners—I’m the only damn foreigner around here! Willie’s French, for chrissake!”
“He’s not really French. Just look at him.”
“What about me? I have brown skin, too.”
“You’re a woman. It’s different. Women are meant to be exotic.”
“Wow. I can’t believe you said that! You can forget about us getting together again, Jean-Yves. I’m not some precious doll to be toyed with.”
Emma pulled Ruby aside. “Let it go. He’s not worth it.”
They walked up the stairs to their room and sat down on Emma’s bunk bed. Ruby leaned her head against Emma’s shoulder and sighed. They held each other in silence for a while.
“Oh, what have I gotten myself into?” Ruby said. “And what am I going to do about Werner? It’s not so easy to think of facing him, and yet . . .”
“You said it yourself, Ruby—he laid down the rules. So don’t feel guilty about having fun. This is like one extended bridal shower for you. Sorry if I messed things up tonight.”
“You’re forgiven. Especially since he turned out to be a racist pig.”
The next morning, Ruby and Jean-Yves met Tellier in his office, expecting to be fired.
“You two trespassed on my property last night and ruined some very good grapes in the process,” he said gravely.
“Maybe you can still use them,” said Ruby.
“Silence! The loss of those grapes will come off your pay. Jean-Yves, you’ve been here many times. You should know that building is off limits.”
“Yes, I know, but—”
“But nothing! I’ll have no more of this. I would have been liable if you had hurt yourselves. I can’t keep you from fraternizing with each other, but do your funny business outside from now on.”
Ruby got up and left before Jean-Yves could say a word. In the dining hall, Emma had saved her a chair. As she sat down, she felt like crying. All eyes were on her, and low voices murmured in tones of judgment.
“What?” yelled Emma. “None of you lot have ever been shagged before?”
Ruby looked down at the chocolate croissant and fruit on her plate. She picked up the croissant and pulled away from the table without a word. Back upstairs, she lay down on her bed and thought of going back to Berlin. She didn’t really want to return to her relationship with Werner, but she wasn’t ready to leave it either. In Germa
ny she had work, friends, a lover—it was her home for now. France had provided a welcome diversion, and she would be sorry to leave, but Berlin was still her base.
She buried herself in the work for the rest of the day. Her back didn’t ache as much anymore and she was picking as fast as anyone else on the team. The next day it drizzled constantly and the slopes grew hopelessly muddy and slippery, spoiling the communal mood. Ruby wasn’t talking to Jean-Yves, who appeared sullen and restless.
As she walked, tired and wet, through the dining room at lunch, someone hissed, “Whore!”
“That’s it!” she bellowed. “I’ve had it with you assholes! Just who do you think you are? Let me be, and go back to picking your noses.”
She turned to Emma and said, “This is the end of the line for me. Are you staying on, or what?”
Ruby expected her to say she wasn’t through having fun with Jean-Claude. But to her surprise, Emma agreed. By evening they were packed and ready to head off to Reims. From there they would catch a train to Paris and then carry on to Berlin. Emma lingered for a long time saying goodbye to Jean-Claude, their two red heads pressing together like kissing grapes. He drove them to Reims. When they got out at the station, Ruby took one last look at the crazy red car and smiled ruefully. As they walked away, Willie yelled from the back seat, “You’ll never know what you missed!”
That’s truer than you know, she thought. Every time you make a choice you turn your back on other opportunities. I only hope I’m making the right one.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mean’s Motel
IT WAS HER WEDDING DAY. RUBY FELT SLIGHTLY queasy as she pulled on a cocktail dress she’d bought at the flea market and donned a pair of suede lace-up granny shoes with just enough heel to set off her calves. Tying the ribbons tightly, she knew that all she really wanted was to be able to get a proper work permit so she could stop cleaning old ladies’ houses. All Werner really wanted was to be able to live in Canada one day. And this was a step they had to take to reach those goals, it was that simple. They had mocked the idea of a real ceremony and planned to treat this like an ordinary day with a little party at the end of it. They would carry on as before in their two separate apartments. There would be no honeymoon. Ruby’s camera was broken, so there would be no pictures either. Would anything really change?
It was two o’clock in the afternoon. They were getting married at three. Ruby and Werner walked down the street to the subway, with Werner, as usual, walking a few paces ahead of her. The trains whizzed uneventfully through tunnel after tunnel until they reached downtown. Outside city hall her friends were waiting, all sombrely dressed in black. Ruby was not upset by the gloomy tone of their clothes; she glossed it over with a smile that said “Let’s get this job done with.”
The justice of the peace was a serious woman, all business and more than a little perfunctory. Ruby and Werner stood at the front of the room on a platform. They had given no thought to writing out their own vows and so they glibly repeated the phrases to each other as the justice of the peace read them out. Emma and Jack acted as witnesses. The whole thing took less than an hour. Ruby was relieved when it was all finally over; now they could go enjoy themselves.
From city hall they went to Jack and Smithie’s bar. Ruby and her friends loved it, partly because it was so rundown. The bar was in a former storefront, a low building that stretched along a grey, almost treeless street. The building facades were decrepit, weary with the weight of an uncaring history, and the sidewalks were littered with refuse and dog shit. A bright neon-pink sign with black lettering screamed out “Mean’s Motel” to passersby.
Inside, it reeked of stale beer mingled with the smell of curry. Jagged pieces of glass etched out a map-like piece of art on the back wall. The bar itself was shiny steel, and black and white tiles gleamed on the floor. There was one room for a pool table and another decked in red with a tiger-print blanket strewn across a black sofa. In the red room, all the tables were pulled together so the wedding gang could sit together for a meal, and red roses sat upright in a vase in the centre. Lina uncorked a couple of bottles of Veuve Clicquot and they started drinking. With R& B music blasting, they danced, taking turns as couples and then together as a group. They ate curry and continued drinking until the regulars started arriving. At the end of the night, the newly married couple stumbled back to Ruby’s apartment, too drunk to make out, and fell into a noisy sleep. Ruby was right. Being married didn’t change anything.
That night she dreamed of a long-forgotten memory. Ruby sat on the stairs in her teddy-bear pyjamas, chin cupped in her hands. She let the music wash over her. Her eyes were transfixed on her parents, as the big Basie beat swung them around the crowded room. She had watched them dance so often, always lingering to mimic their steps. Her father didn’t let his bad foot stop him and he still stomped out a rhythm in his own way. She skipped down the stairs and waded through bouncing, swaying legs.
“Please, Daddy, Mommy, let me dance with you.”
“Okay, sugar-pie.”
She sashayed between them, swishing her thin little hips from side to side.
“Girl, who taught you how to dance like that?” her father asked in a playful tone, eyes wide open with proud surprise.
“You did! You and Mommy!”
Her father roared with laughter, and then, as if remembering himself, he bent down to whisper with gentle sternness in her ear, “You better not take those moves out of this room, you hear!”
One evening a month later, Ruby went to Mean’s on her own, without Werner. It was later than she usually went to the bar, and the room was edgy. People were dressed from head to toe in black, with mohawks or gelled and spiked hair, piercings erupting all over their faces, the requisite Doc Martens boots on their feet. Ruby’s ears started to throb as the music pulsated in and out, punctuated by yelling voices. She stood in the room and could almost feel the shards of glass on the wall sticking into her skin. She was beginning to shake a little from nervousness, and needed some alcohol to quiet her nerves. This wasn’t really her crowd.
Jack and Smithie were working behind the bar. She ordered a whisky sour.
“Hey there, Miss Canuck! We’re just chatting about events back home,” said Smithie over the music. “You know our Dickie Mountbatten was assassinated last year. Well, now the government is tearing apart the IRA.”
“Who’s Mountbatten?” Ruby sorely regretted her question as soon as it slipped from her lips. There were guffaws all around.
“Lord Mountbatten of Burma, the overseer of the partition of India. What on earth do they teach you over there!”
Ruby countered, “Not as much colonial nonsense, that’s what!”
“Oh, low one, low one,” muttered Jack.
Now Ruby knew that was a bit of a lie. Her education had been focused on Europe, particularly England, not on Canada. It was not the first time that the Brits had put her in her place in terms of her knowledge of world history. She had the feeling that her North American education had shortchanged her.
Luckily Smithie said, “Oh, don’t be getting all serious and spoiling our fun. Lighten up, would ya?”
Ruby turned away from the bar to look into the crowd. At the doorway, she could see Emma wrestling off her coat. She looked forward to telling her about the new job she’d found as a translator at a language institute, and remind them both that the marriage had been worth it. She waved her hand in the air, and Emma smiled and nodded. As she turned back to the bar, she accidentally elbowed the young man standing next to her.
“You almost knocked my drink out of my hand!”
Ruby blushed and apologized profusely. He was fairly tall and had sharp features, with flinty grey-green eyes. His brush-cut hair was dyed black; if he hadn’t been in this bar, he could have almost passed for a military man.
Ruby smiled winsomely and said, “Can I buy you another, to replace the one you almost lost?”
He smiled and said, “Yeah, sure. Go right ahead.”
“What’s your name and what are you drinking?”
“It’s Dominick, and I’ll take another Pilsner.”
Ruby turned to Smithie. “Another Pilsner for Dominick here. It’s on me.”
Smithie eyed her. “What are you getting up to? And where’s Werner?”
“He’s out with his friends and I’m just having a little chitchat here.”
By this time Emma had come along and wedged her way between Ruby and Dominick. “Hey you.”
Dominick pulled up against Ruby and whispered, “Your friends are here, now you’re safe.” He grabbed his beer and stepped away. “Thanks. Catch ya another time?”
Emma shook her head and said, “I’m glad I saved you from him.”
“Why?”
“’Cause drug dealers aren’t a good catch.”
Ruby nodded, but she knew she was already taken by him—his undulating voice and knowing eyes, his cockiness. She wanted to see him again, no matter what he did.
“Girl, what’s gotten into you? Gone all goo-goo-eyed. Snap out of it. Where’s Werner? It’s past your curfew.”
Ruby winced.
Emma said, “Come on, let’s go dance.”
Ruby spied Dominick off in a corner chatting with a blonde in a revealing V-neck sweater. He saw her looking and nodded at her. Then he waved her over. Ruby turned to Emma and said, “See you in a bit.”
“Right, right, that’s the way,” Emma said and gave her the finger.
Ruby pushed through the crowd towards Dominick and his woman friend.
“Let me introduce you to Franka,” he said.
Franka’s lips curled into a smile as she leaned in to Ruby, saying, “My art, you know, is stripping. What’s yours?”
Ruby tried to find a witty retort. She pushed up her breasts with her hands and said, “Do you think they’re big enough? Maybe I could join you.”
