Friends and Other Liars

by Kaela Coble

  The place isn’t huge, but there’s a decent living space with a small, modern kitchen and bathroom. I put my things in Ruby’s room. We worked out ahead of time that I would sleep in her bed, because she knows me best. Steph and Krystal will sleep on the blow-up mattress in the living room that looks brand new; Ruby must have purchased it for our stay. I get the feeling she hasn’t had visitors before, and I wonder for the first time what her New York friends are like. Does she have a tight group of friends here like the crew? Is there a New York version of an Ally, an Emmett, a Danny? Or does she keep to herself without anyone forcing her not to? I can’t decide which scenario makes me sadder.

  I pick up a picture on her nightstand of her and a man I don’t recognize. He’s handsome in a Clark Kent kind of way, glasses and all. I show it to her. “Holding out on me?” I ask. It would be just like Ruby to have a boyfriend all this time and not tell anyone about him.

  She shakes her head. “That’s Jamie.”

  I remember the name. He’s the reason she stayed in London, although she said it was for “a job opportunity.” He’s the reason she wasn’t at my wedding.

  “That was actually taken last year. I spent Christmas with his family in Bloomsbury.”

  “Didn’t you guys break up when you moved back to the States? That was at least two years ago.”

  “Yeah.” She shrugs. “We’re still friends. He’s kinda my best friend, actually.”

  I look at her like I’m always looking at her, like she’s got snakes coming out of her ears. But that answers my question. If Ruby’s best friend is an ex-boyfriend who lives on another continent, how happy can she really be here?

  “Just because Jamie and I didn’t work as a couple, it doesn’t mean we don’t care about each other. Besides, I’ve cut enough people out of my life just because they’ve hurt me.”

  “Or sometimes for no reason at all,” I say before I can think. She winces. “I’m sorry,” I say, even though I’m not. Not really. It needed to be said.

  “It’s okay.” She starts to say something else, but our conversation is interrupted by the sound of a bottle of piss-warm champagne—transported all the way from Chatwick in Krystal’s suitcase—being uncorked in the living room.

  • • •

  “Do you need anything before I turn out the light?” Ruby asks. It wakes me up. We just got back to Ruby’s place about twenty minutes ago, but I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I actually fell asleep in the cab on the ride home, in the midst of Krystal and Steph screaming the lyrics to an old Britney Spears song at the top of their lungs. I must have gone deaf and passed out. Or maybe it’s just the weekend that’s exhausting me. Cities are tiring enough as it is with all the walking, but being pregnant is a whole other ball of facts.

  I hate to say it, but I can’t wait to go home tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong. It’s been fun, and Ruby’s been great. She took us to this restaurant last night where you sit on the floor and eat with your hands, which was…different, although the baby didn’t seem to enjoy the spicy food. Then we saw Mamma Mia! on Broadway, which was really fun.

  Ruby says she got the tickets free from a “hookup at work.” I don’t know if she meant a connection from one of her advertising clients or a coworker she’s hooking up with. When I asked, she just giggled like I had told a joke. Either way, it was nice to do something where I could sit down and not feel left out because I can’t drink. I think Ruby planned this on purpose because of me, which was nice of her.

  Even though I’ve known her all my life, there have been times this weekend when I feel like I’m getting to know Ruby right along with Steph and Krystal. Who knew she was such a considerate person? I mean, she’s always been nice and friendly to people, at least until they give her a reason not to be. And I remember she was always good about offering to share. Like if she was using Chap Stick or chewing gum, she would always offer it to me too. And we almost always shared cigs even if we had more than one. There was something about the passing of it back and forth that made us feel connected, I think. Like with each puff we were taking on a bit of the other’s pain—the fight she escaped from at home, the worry that Aaron would cheat on me like my dad always did on my mom. Damn, I miss smoking.

  Today we went shopping, which was a huge ordeal. Krystal insisted on going to stores like Prada and Manolo Blahnik, just to say she’d been there, but we would get into the store and the sales associates would give us the stink eye because we’re so obviously not able to afford the stuff, making us all feel like shit. Then Krystal would shout about how expensive everything was, making us all embarrassed to be seen with her. She also insisted on taking pictures in front of the signs of each store and every landmark we went to after, and she would always ask Ruby to take the pictures, like it was a Chatwick girls’ trip and Ruby was the tour guide instead of part of our group. Ruby didn’t complain, but by the end of the day, I could see the little wrinkles around her lips that mean she’s irritated.

  I don’t know what’s gotten into Krystal either. I mean, she’s always a bit much, but you’d think she was the bride this weekend the way she’s carrying on. For example, at lunch Steph asked Ruby to tell the mushroom story again, which was a big hit. Everyone’s laughing, even me who’s not only heard it before but actually lived it, and Krystal cuts in and starts talking about how she knows what we mean about how hard it is to wake Murphy up, and how she has to practically slap him awake “every morning” (as if that was the point of the story). Me and Steph make eyes at each other; we know very well she doesn’t live at Murphy’s, and as far as we know, she only sleeps over on the nights he can’t find anyone else to take home from Margie’s.

  But for the rest of the day, it was Murphy this and Murphy that. “Oh, Murphy would love that shirt. I have to go in and get it for him,” and “Murphy told me he loves it when I wear black, so I really want to find a sexy black dress for the rehearsal dinner.” It’s like since Murphy’s out of earshot, she’s given herself free rein to pretend he’s her boyfriend. But trust me, she is a girl playing make-believe. Murphy hasn’t settled down with anyone since Taylor, and if you ask me, he never really settled down with her either, if you know what I mean. And Krystal? He’s just using her for sex. I’m not saying it’s right, but it seems to be their understanding.

  Poor girl. As annoying as she is, it’s obvious that Krystal (like every girl who’s ever been dumb enough to like Murphy) is threatened by Ruby, and hearing that they slept on the trampoline together probably triggered her competitive instinct. It’s funny because, even though we all wondered if something more was going on between Murph and Ruby, them sleeping on the trampoline together was the one thing that didn’t raise a red flag. The real couples always took the bedrooms (for privacy), while the two of them slept outside where anyone could see them. Plus, they were on a squeaky trampoline. We would have heard if something was going on.

  But this is what’s always happened between Ruby and Murphy and their significant others. I can’t say I blame people for getting jealous when the person they’re dating is on the phone with someone else of the opposite sex for hours on end. Even though Ruby was always overly nice to Murphy’s girlfriends, some of them would draw the line with Murphy. It was them or Ruby. Most of the time he dumped them. Sometimes, if the girl had particularly large breasts, things would get chilly between him and Ruby for a few weeks. But that never lasted. Part of the reason he and Taylor lasted so long is because Ruby moved away and stopped talking to all of us.

  Ruby’s boyfriends didn’t stand a chance either, with Murphy being so “protective” of her. He would either get all puffy-chested tough guy about it or freeze the guy out entirely. He used to say if they weren’t man enough to stand up to him, they weren’t strong enough to handle a girl like Ruby, and it was better she find out sooner so she didn’t get hurt. The one guy who Murphy didn’t manage to scare off was Hardy, and we all know what good that di
d her.

  So anyway, Ruby did a good job at being superpolite with Krystal, but her lips got more and more wrinkly as the day went on. By the time we got to the male strip club where she had reserved us a table, she was drinking double vodka tonics. She didn’t have a lot of them, but as she sipped, I couldn’t help but think of Nancy rattling the ice in her glass to scare up every last trace of alcohol after a particularly hard day.

  Now I know this might sound bad, but when Ruby went to the bathroom, she left her phone on the table next to mine, and when it vibrated, I picked it up. For the record, I thought it was mine at first. But when the notification said Text Message from Jamie Wells, I pressed the button to open it before I could stop myself. It said, Reading Steinbeck and thinking of the time we had a row over his merits. Years later, I’m finally giving him a second chance. You were right, it’s gorgeous. Hope you’re having a good time at your hen night. Xoxo, J. Best friends, my ass. Like she and Murphy were best friends? It’s like she has a permanent blind spot when it comes to the way the men in her life feel about her.

  Tonight was less fun for me, not that it matters. Steph had a blast, stuffing singles into G-strings and getting lap dances, and the fact that she had fun is what matters. But do you know how weird it feels to be pregnant in a strip club? From the looks I was getting, I felt like a hooker in church. I kept trying to cover my swollen belly with my coat, but it still didn’t feel right. So when Ruby asks me if I need anything before she turns the light out, all I can think is that I want to be home. Not the home that exists now, but the one I had before Danny died, when I had a husband who loved and trusted me, who was excited to bring the baby growing inside me into this world. And because I’m exhausted, and because it’s Ruby, I tell her that’s what I want.

  Ruby isn’t facing me, but her posture slumps. She hangs her head, and then rests it in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Al,” she says.

  I roll up to my elbow and reach out to touch her back. She gives a little start. She doesn’t like being touched unexpectedly, even now. “Thank you, but it’s not your fault,” I say.

  She nods and turns to me. “Yes it is.” I watch her, not understanding, as she opens the drawer to her nightstand and pulls out the envelope labeled Ruby in Danny’s handwriting. “It’s my fault,” she says, “because I think Danny mixed up our secrets.”

  17

  RUBY

  BACK THEN—SENIOR YEAR

  Today is a day I’m supposed to feel happy, accomplished, joyful, hopeful. At the very least, proud.

  I feel nothing.

  After the ceremony, my friends gather behind the gymnasium for group pictures in our caps and gowns. I smile through gritted teeth at the other end of the row from Murphy, who gets to enjoy this day. Then Taylor, who sat with the Leblancs during the ceremony, jumps into the photo session as if she’s been a part of the crew all along. I step out of frame, letting myself get swallowed up in a sea of cheap green polyester. For a moment, I stand in the same spot where Murphy told me only weeks earlier as we stood in the rain in a gown and a tuxedo, that I was beautiful.

  Each of us has our own family graduation celebration before we’re supposed to meet up at Ally’s house later for the big party. Ally’s mom agreed to let us have the party at her house without supervision after days and weeks of Ally pouting that we had no place to go since Danny wasn’t graduating and he didn’t want us at his house. Ally’s mom finally gave in on the day Ally’s dad informed them he would be bringing his new girlfriend to the ceremony.

  My parents and Coral and I are going to Rick’s Seafood for dinner, and that leaves a few hours to kill. I can’t decide if it’s worse to be alone with my thoughts or to endure the exhaustion of pretending I’m happy for my family’s sake.

  At home, Nancy hands me a card with Murphy’s name on it and instructs me to run it over to his house. I hold it up to the light. There’s money in it. Nancy is sending me to the boy who broke my heart with a cash reward in hand. Because he’s “part of the family.” Meaning, he was the one who was there for me when my parents weren’t. Also meaning, he would sometimes carry Nancy to bed after she passed out on the kitchen floor and was polite enough to never bring it up.

  I could refuse, or even pop it in the mail, but as much as I hate him, I want to see him too. I want him to see me and feel awkward because I’m there. I want him to feel the same discomfort I feel, as if he could even handle it. I want him to have a chance to realize he made a mistake.

  I pull up to see Murphy’s entire family, including his relatives from Quebec, milling around the yard. Murphy’s back is to me, playing volleyball with his cousins, occasionally hollering out a swear word in French to make the younger ones giggle. Before I can take so much as a step toward him, Taylor spots me. She waves enthusiastically and then bounds up to me like she hadn’t just seen me hours ago.

  “Ruby! I’m so glad you’re here. Everyone’s speaking French, and I have no idea what they’re saying.” She lowers her voice. “I think they might be talking about me.”

  My annoyance at her presence softens. It isn’t her fault what Murphy’s done, as much as I want to blame it on her. If anything, I’m the one to blame. “I know how you feel. I used to think that too. But it’s more likely they’re talking about snowmobiling or hunting.” I somehow manage the energy to smile.

  She exhales, relieved, and then a lightbulb seems to come on. “Hey, Murphy said you couldn’t come because you had your own family thing,” she says.

  “Oh, I can’t stay. My mom just wanted me to drop this off to him.” I wave the envelope.

  “Wow, your mom is giving Murphy a graduation present? And I saw one on the counter for you too. You guys really are like family.” It seems she is reassuring herself more than looking for confirmation.

  “Speaking of which,” she says. “I’m really sorry about, you know, your family situation.”

  I stare at her blankly. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, Murphy told me about your mom and how she’s a little”—she circles her temple with her finger—“and how your dad moved out for a while until she stopped”—she simulates glugging a bottle. “That must have been really hard for you. That’s why when he told me he worried about breaking your pact to go to prom together, I was like ‘Oh my God, I totally understand. The poor girl has been through enough without getting ditched right before prom!’”

  It’s a blow so sudden and so deep I have to stop myself from doubling over. I swallow, knowing the color has disappeared from my face along with the fake smile. Not only did Murphy share the personal details of my life with his little tween, but he actually made it seem like he felt sorry for me? And now this toddler is in on the pity party?

  “Hey,” Taylor says, noticing the sickly hue of my skin. “I’m sorry… I probably shouldn’t have—”

  “Yeah,” I say, looking her straight in the eye to let her know that she, indeed, shouldn’t have. I want so badly to hurt her back, to put her in her place. I contemplate for a moment telling her everything. How she is nothing more than Murphy’s consolation prize, for the second time now. How he kissed her goodbye on prom night and then told me he loved me. How he broke up with her the minute I said I was ready. But then I remember how he pulled away from me that day on my back deck. The look on his face when I saw him holding hands with her in the hallway. He took her back. He chose her. No matter how you dissect it, she wins, and she didn’t even know she was competing. What use would it be to hurt her? It’s him I should be kicking in the junk.

  “So, look, I really have to get going. Can you give this to Murphy for me?” I shove the envelope in Taylor’s hands and turn to leave, but not before Cecile catches my eye. It looks as though she’s been watching me and Taylor. She points to the side entrance of the house and waves me over. I consider ignoring her, but her movements get more emphatic and less patient, so I obey, following her into the kitchen.

>   Handing me the envelope with RUBY printed in block letters on the front, she pulls me into a hug and says, “For the daughter I never had.” For Cecile, this is an emotional scene of epic proportion. Maintaining her firm grip, she says, “I’m so glad you came into Murphy’s life, and mine.” Just as the tears start to line my eyelids, she whispers into my hair, “And I’m so, so sorry that things couldn’t work out.”

  I pull away, looking at her eyes. Pity. A less-patronizing pity than what was in Taylor’s eyes moments before, but pity all the same. Cecile knows. Of course she knows. Of course Murphy would share our story with his mother. Of course her opinion would carry the most weight with him. Suddenly his words—You would come back and I would be so happy, and then you would just leave again—float through my head in the low, gravelly tone of Cecile’s voice. It was she who advised against the heartache of a long-distance relationship. She can say she thinks of me as a daughter, but the long and the short of it is, I’m not. Murphy is her son, her baby, and she has to think about what’s best for him. No matter who gets hurt.

  I can’t think of anything to say back to her. When I try, nothing comes out but a pathetic little squeak. I hold the envelope up to her to make sure she sees it before dropping it on her kitchen counter with a thwack. Wordlessly, I exit the kitchen and climb into my car. As if sensing my presence, Murphy’s eyes connect with mine before I press down hard on the clutch to jam the gearshift into reverse.

  I bypass the turn to my street and continue down the hill, past the school where I will never step foot again, past the bars and the railroad tracks. I park so hastily in front of Danny and Charlene’s teal house that one of my tires is up on the curb. I ring the doorbell and wait for what seems like an eternity until Danny shuffles to answer the door. His eyes are bloodshot, and he reeks of smoke. Good, he’s already in numbing mode.