by Kaela Coble
“Hey, Tues,” he says. “Something tells me you’re not here to read poetry.”
“Let me in. I need to get high.”
He smiles, opens the door wide, and steps aside to let me in the house.
• • •
The ringing phone pierces through the scene playing on the backs of my eyelids. It is an unwelcome sound, at once making the streets of Paris and the harmonica vanish, along with Murphy and me dancing in our prom wear. I wince my eyes open and quickly reach out to pick up the portable from my bedside table.
“Hello?” I croak.
“Ruby St. James, where the hell have you been?” Ally’s voice comes barreling through the receiver.
“Um,” I start as I rub my eyes, unsure how to explain. I haven’t spoken to Ally, or anyone from the crew, since graduation day, two weeks ago. And if it hadn’t been for the knee-jerk reaction of being woken from a sound sleep, I wouldn’t have answered the phone now.
“And why do you sound like you’re sleeping? It’s two o’clock in the afternoon!”
Is it? I glance over my shoulder at my clock radio to confirm. It’s across the room, strategically placed to force me out of bed to turn off the alarm each morning. The clock is another thing I’ve neglected since graduation. I’ve actually rearranged my shifts at the Exchange to afternoons so I can wring every possible second of unconsciousness from the day. I panic for a second, thinking I am late for the second time this week (after assuring Donna I would never let it happen again) before I remember it’s Sunday. The Exchange is closed because everyone in town is at church instead of shopping for sweaters priced at $7.95.
“I must have dozed off reading,” I lie, trying to force some cheeriness, or at the very least, normalcy, into my voice.
“Oh yeah? Must be one hell of a book to forget about your friends for two weeks.”
“I’m sorry, Al. I haven’t meant to ignore you. I just have all this summer reading to do.” I clench my teeth after I say it. Not only am I lying, but I’m bringing up a sore subject to deflect attention. Ally found out I was going to NYU from Murphy; I didn’t tell her myself. She was hurt and confused that I kept it from her, or at least that’s what she says. She’s really just offended I’m going away at all. To her, it’s a comment on her own choice to stay in Vermont.
She is quiet. “I’ve missed you,” I say, placating her. “What’s new?”
“Well, Aaron is spending more time playing basketball at Barnard Park than with me. I know we’re not going to be that far away from each other next year, but it would be nice if he wanted to spend some time with his girlfriend before everything changes.”
“That sucks… And how’s Murphy?” I try to ask casually. I don’t want to know, but I desperately want to know.
A pause, then… “You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what? What happened?” I ask. Did a tree fall on him? Did Taylor dump him? Is he in New York City, trying to figure out if he could live there with me? I don’t have time to contemplate which one would be preferable.
“Nothing,” Ally rushes to say. “I don’t mean something happened. I mean, he’s been kind of a prick lately. I think he’s bummed that Taylor is away at horse camp or whatever. I just mean, you don’t know how Murphy is? I figured you were at least keeping in touch with him.” Resentment drips from her voice.
“Horse camp?” I say, ignoring her jab.
“Yeah, you know, she’s riding horses and shit. Aquarium camp or whatever.”
“Equestrian?” I offer, a smile beginning to twitch at my lips.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” We both laugh. I bask in the thought of Taylor being away and Murphy being miserable. Then I have a sudden, wonderful thought—maybe Taylor dumped him before she went away, or better, maybe he dumped her, realizing he made a mistake when he chose her over me. Maybe that’s what he’s been calling to tell me, and I should have picked up the phone when I saw his number appear on the caller ID, just once out of the sixteen times. Suddenly, I have to know. But I can’t ask Ally or she’ll know something’s up, especially considering my hibernation. And I can’t just call him. If I’m wrong, what kind of conversation will that be? I can’t imagine anything more painful or humiliating.
“So there’s a party at Luke’s tonight. In his field,” Ally says.
“Luke?”
“Yeah. Danny’s friend, from the garage?”
I murmur acknowledgment even though I can’t find Luke’s face in my memory. Danny’s name stirs feelings of guilt. I’ve been ducking his calls along with everyone else’s, ever since graduation day when I got way too high in his basement, cried for an hour, and then left without telling him why.
“We’re all going. It would be nice if you could take a study break long enough to see your oldest and dearest friends. We don’t have that much time left together.”
Suddenly, it feels like that’s exactly what’s in order. A nice, big party with lots of people around. I can put in some face time with the crew to alleviate my guilt. Plus, a bonfire is an easy enough setting to pull someone into a cornfield for a chat. Lots of shadows.
• • •
I ride to the party with Ally and Aaron, deep into the countryside. I’m quiet in the back of Aaron’s pickup, the nerves from being out in public again, being around the people I no longer belong with, pulsing under my skin. The sun went down hours ago, leaving only a vague outline of the trees flying past my window. I wish I could jump out and hide up the highest one, so high that no one could find me.
Most of our graduated (or not graduated) class is there. Danny hugs me and Ally and slaps Aaron five, asking him to be his beer pong partner. Aaron is known as King Pong in some circles. Murphy and Emmett haven’t arrived yet, but Nicki sees Ally and me and extricates herself from a crowd of rising senior girls. She drags us off for a half hour to strategize about how to act around Emmett now that they have officially broken up. I try to be sympathetic, but I know they’ll be wrapped around each other by the time their fifth beer is popped.
When Emmett and Murphy pull in, Emmett unloads the bright-orange cooler, fishes out a cold one, and makes a beeline for the group of basketball players that just so happen to be at the opposite side of the field from me and the girls. I think he’s avoiding Ally more than Nicki, since Ally is the one who will call him a dickhead for the way he broke it off. Even though they had agreed to end before they left for college, unceremoniously showing up at Nicki’s house with a box full of CDs, books, and clothes she left in his car was not the proper way to end a four-year relationship.
Meanwhile, Murphy struggles to balance the tent bag, tarp, and sleeping bags. He spots me, looking surprised. As if in two weeks he’s forgotten I existed. I remind myself of the sixteen phone calls, but it doesn’t help. “Tuesday, lend me a hand?” he calls out.
“No,” I reply in what I hope is a cool tone. My heart is thudding wildly at the sight of him, and suddenly, the idea of being even semi-alone with him makes me panicky. But when I turn back to Ally, she and Nicki are both looking at me in surprise. I cannot tell them about what happened—not ever—so I sigh inwardly and go.
I grab the sleeping bags and follow him out way past the fire, almost to the corn. We are silent as we try to get the poles to come together through the little loops in the burgeoning darkness.
“You and Em looking for a little alone time tonight?” I ask, noticing how far away we are from the other tents. These are the first words I’ve spoken to him since that day at our lockers. The day my heart shattered.
He laughs. “I doubt Emmett will be bunking with me tonight,” he says, tilting his head to a spot a little way away from the fire, where Nicki and Emmett now stand arguing. “First step, fight. Second step, get drunk. Third step, fuck each other’s brains out.”
I want so badly to laugh, for everything to be back the way it was just a few m
onths ago. But it isn’t, and I can’t. “So why do you need so much privacy?” I can practically taste the acid dripping from my words.
He tosses the rain guard over the peak, even though there isn’t a cloud in the sky. “I just wanted to talk to you. You haven’t answered any of my calls.”
“Well, I don’t understand why you’re calling.”
He looks genuinely taken aback.
“Because—”
I interrupt him, knowing this is my chance to ask the question I came here to ask. “Is it because you grew a set and changed your mind? Is it because you and Taylor aren’t together anymore?”
He sighs deeply. “No.”
Of course not. How is it possible I had hoped for anything else? Has the part of me who’s grown up with my parents’ fucked-up version of love learned nothing? I know love isn’t some fairy tale, that it doesn’t transform you into some perfect person. That people fail and don’t live up to their end of the bargain, that sometimes they don’t even try—and when they do try, it’s way too late. “Well then, what’s the point? You made your decision. I’m not going to beg you to be with me if that’s what you’re waiting for.”
“That’s not what I’m waiting for.”
Why not? I want to ask. Why did you tell me you loved me if you didn’t want to be with me?
“I’m waiting,” he continues, “for my best friend to come back.”
For a moment, I think I might actually black out. After all this, it’s so easy for him to pretend like nothing happened.
“Hold your breath until she does,” I say, dropping the edge of the rain guard and spinning to leave. With every step back toward the crowd, I force myself to calm my breathing, to stand up straight, to not let Murphy see the effect he’s had on my heart. But despite my best efforts, I believe later they will say I stormed up to where Emmett and Nicki are fighting. I walk directly between them and pull Nicki away with a pointed look at Emmett. “Come on,” I say to Nicki. “You don’t need this bullshit. Let’s fill up before the keg is kicked.”
• • •
After filling a red Solo cup to the brim and losing Nicki again to her drama with Emmett, I spot Danny sitting alone, his legs dangling from the deck of Luke’s ranch-style house. The flames from the bonfire barely reach his face, but I can tell he is sulking.
“Aaron’s off his game tonight,” he says, shaking his head as I hoist myself up next to him. “The one thing that kid’s good for…” Danny’s drunk. And what’s worse, tonight he is Gloomy Drunk Danny instead of Fun Drunk Danny. And I’m fixing to be Stupid Drunk Ruby. This is not a good combination.
“It’s just a game, dude,” I say, nudging him with my elbow and forcing a casual air to my voice to lighten the mood.
“I know!” he says. “I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were s—”
“Where you been?” He cuts me off. He slugs down the rest of his beer, crushes the empty cup in his hand, and lobs it angrily at a small group of lacrosse players gathered about fifteen feet away from us. They give us the finger and move along when Danny stretches out his arms, challenging them to do something about it.
I take a sip from my cup to buy some time. As usual, the taste makes my stomach turn a little, but I’m determined to push through it. “I’ve been around,” I say.
“Bullshit.”
“Seriously! I’ve been getting ready for school. Driving to Burlington to get stuff I need for my dorm, doing my summer reading.” In truth, I haven’t done any of those things. I should be more ready than ever to get the hell out of here, but thinking about New York makes me feel sick now. “Plus, you know, hanging out with the girls before I go.” I throw this in for good measure, even though he knows as well as anyone that the girls of the crew haven’t ever been my first priority.
He snorts lightly. “The girls,” he says. He looks at me, and I see my lie in his eyes. “Did you ever think I might be worried about you?”
I pause. I hadn’t actually thought that. I’m so used to worrying about Danny, and to Danny only worrying about partying, that I thought he might forget my grad day breakdown.
“I’m sorry, Dan. I should have explained. I was just…emotional…it being graduation day and all.”
He snorts. “It wasn’t everyone’s graduation day.”
“I know.”
I know why he’s angry. I’m supposed to be there for him. Murphy and me. We’re not supposed to go off the grid and leave him to stew in his basement because he either has to repeat senior year or give up on his high school diploma altogether. We’re supposed to tag team him, to take turns being fun and energetic and distracting (Murphy), and supportive and nurturing and take-charge (me). I’ve been so wrapped up in my own heartbreak that I don’t even know if Murphy is holding up his end of the bargain or if he’s too busy with his fifth-grade girlfriend.
As if reading my mind, Danny says, “And what the hell is going on with you and Murphy?”
My pulse quickens. “What do you mean?”
“The only time I’ve seen you in the same area since graduation was right over there”—he points to the cornfield where Murphy’s tent is set up—“and you were fighting.”
“Oh,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “That. He said something insensitive about Hardy being here tonight. You know Murph.”
Danny nods, still looking at me like he knows I’m full of it. I don’t know if he knows the truth about what happened between me and Murphy, and I can’t ask. I can’t hear the disappointment in his voice that I snuck around behind his back. That I kept such a secret from him when he’s always told me even the worst of the things he’s done. That I’m now choosing to nurse my heartbreak alone rather than share my misery with him as always. As long as these things remain unspoken, maybe I can keep up the illusion that we are all just good friends, and that I am just an excited upcoming college freshman ready to bust out of this wasteland of a town.
So we sit in silence until Ally and Aaron approach us, followed by Emmett, then Murphy. One by one, each of them hoists themselves onto the side of the deck, their legs dangling off the side like mine and Danny’s. Just as always, we are sequestered from the outsiders, creating a wall of friendship we’re all too afraid to admit is crumbling.
• • •
After my second keg stand, Murphy pulls me away from the crowd.
“Ruby, what the hell are you doing?” he demands, as if he has any right.
“What?” I ask, lifting my hands. “I’m having fun.” My speech, I notice, is slightly slurred. I didn’t sink any of the cups in my three beer-pong games, which means I had to drink all the ones my partner didn’t sink himself.
“Yeah, well, the last time you had ‘fun’ like that with Hardy Crane”—he lowers his voice, realizing he’s treading in dangerous territory—“it didn’t end well for you. Remember that night?”
I poke him in the forehead, which, after I do it, seems like quite a silly thing to do. He grabs my finger gently and doesn’t let go. I rear back from him. “Actually, I don’t really remember. Do you remember…when you told me you loved me?” I hiccup at the end of this, my eyes filling with tears.
“Tuesday—”
“I told you not to call me that anymore. Only my friends can call me that.”
“Oh, like your good friend Hardy?”
“He’s just my beer-pong partner. What happened with us was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, and you worked really hard to put him behind you.”
“What do you care, Murphy?” I hiss at him. “It’s none of your business who I do and do not fuck.”
“Please, Ruby. Don’t do this. Don’t let it be like this.” Even in my double vision, I can see the strain in his eyes, the desperation to make everything different. But he can’t. There’s no turning back now.
“What’s goi
ng on over here?” a voice says. Hardy appears by my side.
“Stay the hell out of this, Hardy,” Murphy warns.
“Ruby, are you okay?” He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him possessively.
“No,” I say, looking straight into Murphy’s eyes. “I wanna get outta here. Where’s your truck?” The look in Murphy’s eyes is at least in the same ballpark as what I’ve been feeling for the last month, but as I walk away with Hardy, I’m nowhere near vindicated. Not yet.
18
RUBY
NOW
I didn’t think it was possible to be more nervous about going back to Chatwick than I was for Danny’s funeral, but as I maneuver my rental car onto I-89 in Burlington, only thirty minutes away, I hold the steering wheel in a death grip to steady my shaking hands. I rented a car this time so Nancy wouldn’t have to drive all the way to and from the airport twice, and because the universe has a fantastic sense of irony when it comes to me, the only car available at Hertz was a Nissan Sentra. This one, about fifteen years newer than the one currently rusting in my parents’ garage, has nothing on Blue. Sure, it has power steering, but that only serves to jerk me wildly off course with every surge of nerves. I do have to hand it to the winter tires though. Blue’s tires are more suited for a bike ride on a flat, even surface than a drive on Vermont roads with their frost heaves and black ice.
It’s a pretty drive, this section of the interstate between Burlington and Chatwick. Yesterday, northern Vermont had its first snowfall of the year (besides the light dusting in October, which, if you ask any Vermonter, doesn’t count). Sparkling white snow lines the branches of the pine trees and piles up on each side of the road, not yet collecting the mud and slush resulting from weeks of traffic. But I barely register the snow globe I’m driving through. I’m too busy thinking about Danny’s letter. You never know how, or when, I might have arranged for your secrets to come out. Right before that, he had said, All things in the dark have a way of coming to light. That was what he had said, wasn’t it? The same phrasing that was in the message I got at my work email address.
