Then Fern pulls away, and a shadow flits across her proud face as the cute cartoon creatures march all over her soft arms and legs and belly, their sharp spines poking holes through their own pyjamas. “Is it bedtime now?”
“Not yet.” Ruth smiles. “We have to feed you first.”
The twins barrel down the stairs then and start squabbling over who gets to play with the mom doll in the gargantuan dollhouse that sits in the darkest corner of the playroom.
“You broke off her arm last time!” shouts Isabelle.
“It was an accident!” Amelia screams back.
Fern skips over to them. “Can I play too?”
“Playing is stupid.” Isabelle gives the dollhouse a kick and flops onto the couch. “Hey,” she says, “why is this here?” She reaches behind her and yanks on Fern’s towel.
“Leave it alone.” Fern’s voice deepens, full of authority that Ruth has never heard before. “That’s mine.”
“Whatever.” Isabelle throws it back where it was. “Let’s watch TV.”
“Mama?” Fern asks, back to her regular high-pitched squeak, “can I watch a show?”
“Hmm, I don’t know.” Ruth glances at Amelia, who’s rummaging through a toy doctor kit. She finds a plastic scalpel and grabs a nearby teddy bear and saws and slashes with grim determination, then tosses the bear aside in disgust when the dull blade fails her. “We should probably go up for dinner.”
Isabelle is flipping through channels and doesn’t look away from the television when she speaks. “We’re having KD down here.”
“What’s that, Mommy?” says Fern.
“Please don’t tell me that the child has never eaten Kraft Dinner before.” Stef comes down the stairs with a giant bowl of chips and presents it to Fern, who sits on the floor and cradles the bowl in her lap, wide-eyed.
“I don’t know,” Ruth hears herself saying. “Maybe once or twice?”
“Nope,” Fern pronounces. “Never.”
Stef snorts. “Hilarious, but sadly unsurprising.”
“Fern,” Ruth prompts, “what do you say?”
She blinks up at her mother and then down at the chips. “Thank you.”
“Such lovely manners.” Stef points at the twins. “Ask Fern what she wants to watch. Fern is our guest.”
“But we want to watch The Bog Princess!” says Isabelle.
Fern says, “I like Puppy Commander.”
“Puppy Commander is for babies,” says Amelia.
“I’m not a baby.” Fern eats some chips. “I’m a big girl.”
Stef looks at Ruth.
Ruth shrugs. “As long as it’s not s-c-a-r-y.”
“I’ve never actually seen it,” Stef says. “But it’s a movie about a mermaid. How scary can a mermaid be?”
Amelia and Isabelle start jumping up and down on the couch. “Bog Princess! Bog Princess!”
“Okay, just shut up about it!” Stef finds the movie and starts it. “Goddamn Netflix.”
Ruth hunches down next to Fern. “Do you want me to stay down here with you?”
Fern scowls and struggles to her feet with the massive chip bowl. “I’m a big girl,” she says again, and strides over to the couch to sit awkwardly between the bouncing twins.
“You heard her.” Stef grins at Ruth and starts up the stairs.
Isabelle and Amelia drop down on either side of Fern and shove their hands into the chip bowl, and then all three of them sit staring together at the flickering screen with big eyes and chomping mouths.
Ruth follows Stef slowly. At the top of the stairs, she ducks her head down for one more look and then leaves the basement door open.
Stef goes to the kitchen and takes a bag of lettuce out of the fridge.
Ruth trails after her and stands stiffly, crossing and uncrossing her arms. “Fern’s never really watched anything but Puppy Commander. There’s this puppy and it’s in charge of its owner, or something. I think it’s supposed to be funny but I don’t really get it.”
“Wait until she’s seven.” Stef rips open the bag and dumps the lettuce into a bowl. “You won’t understand any of the shit she watches then.”
“Do you want me to make the kids’ food?”
Her friend snickers. “You can’t even say it. Come on. Say ‘mac and cheese.’ I dare you.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Ruth finds a pot and fills it with water. She shakes in some salt and thumps it onto the stove, then grabs a spoon to give it a completely unnecessary stir.
A burst of laughter from the screened porch makes her jump. Sammy and Marvin are out there, pouring wine and waving their knives around.
“KD boxes are in the cupboard next to the fridge.” Stef frowns at the expiry date on a bottle of salad dressing and then douses the greens with it. “Now come and have a drink while the water’s boiling.”
“Okay,” says Ruth.
She always says okay. Stef makes the plan and Ruth goes along with it. That’s how they do things.
Stef carries the salad and the two of them file out to the screened porch, where Marvin and Sammy are drinking wine and eating steak. They’re talking about a daycare they heard about in the news, where the workers forced the children to scratch and bite and kick each other and made the other kids sit in a circle and watch.
“That’s not funny,” says Ruth. “That’s awful.”
“That’s what I said.” Marvin pats the empty spot beside him at the picnic table, and Stef starts climbing over that bench.
“Hey,” says Sammy, “I’m lonely over here!”
She rolls her eyes and retracts her long leg. “Fine.”
Stef sits beside Sammy, and Ruth perches on the edge of the bench next to Marvin, who leans toward her and whispers, “That’s what I was hoping would happen.”
Ruth suddenly feels warm, even with the cool evening breeze blowing in.
She kept meaning to change into shorts but she’s still wearing her jeans, which are squeezing her too tightly. Stef and Sammy have changed into T-shirts and loose, comfortable-looking linen pants. And Marvin is still shirtless.
He wouldn’t have any clothes here, though, Ruth thinks. And Sammy is shorter and wider than he is so an offer to borrow a shirt probably wouldn’t help. But now it’s hard not to look at Marvin. He looks good.
Ruth drops a napkin onto her lap and fidgets with it, folding and unfolding the corners until creases form. “Your wife isn’t coming for dinner?”
Marvin shakes his head. The palm trees on his shorts have smiley faces on them. “She doesn’t like fun.”
“Ha,” she says, but she can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“But seriously, that news story was kind of funny, right?” Sammy slides a plate in front of Ruth without asking how she likes her steak done. “Like a toddler fight club.”
The meat is still bloody, which makes her feel ill, but she thanks him anyway.
“People are garbage,” Marvin says, and pours her a big glass of red.
He’s staring at her, so she looks out at the lake after she thanks him too.
Far down below, there’s a steady shushing as waves slap against the shore again and again, and tiny lights from distant cottages twinkle at them through the dark trees.
She takes a big swig. “That’s why I didn’t send Fern to daycare. Bad things can happen.”
“I think it’s safe to say that was an isolated incident.” Stef spears a rib-eye off the serving platter and smacks it onto her plate. “James told me he wanted to at least find a part-time spot somewhere to give Ruth a break,” she tells Marvin, “but she had to go and be all martyr-y about it for four years.”
James told me.
Because he and Stef are such good buddies.
“I wanted to stay home with her,” says Ruth. “I enjoy her company.”
Marvin smiles at her. “That’s sweet.”
“Thanks.” She focuses on her wine glass, her cheeks flushing.
“Fern’s never even had a real babysit
ter,” Stef goes on. “Can you believe it?”
“We don’t know any teenagers,” says Ruth. “And Fern has her grandparents. They look after her sometimes.”
“Must be nice,” Stef mutters.
“That’s good,” says Marvin. “Date nights are important.”
“Oh, hell yes.” Sammy nods at him. “If Bev and Wally weren’t on the other side of the country, I would physically chain them to our children. This is why we’re eternally grateful to you and Lesley.” He pounds the table. “I need more unfettered sex with my wife!”
Marvin laughs. “What about your parents?” he asks Stef. “They don’t live nearby?”
She drains her wine glass. “Oh, they live nearby. But they’ve got better things to do.” She pokes Ruth in the arm. “Don’t worry, we know plenty of teenagers. We’ll hook you up.”
James used to talk about how much Stef amazed him, after everything she’d been through with her parents. She could’ve been an asshole but she wasn’t. She was always there for him, and Ruth too, and what was in it for her to be so nice? Nothing. But she was nice anyway. She was an only child like them, he’d always remind her, but their parents doted on them and Stef’s mom and dad didn’t give a shit that she existed. But she was still so positive, and so much fun.
And Ruth would ask in a flat voice if they could talk about something else for a change. Could they please stop talking about Stef and her amazing greatness, just for a few minutes?
He said to Ruth once, on their honeymoon, “You don’t give her enough credit, you know.”
They were drinking pina coladas under the thatched roof of a bar at their tropical resort, and the weather that day was perfect.
“For what?” The frozen cocktail was too sweet, and she pushed it away. “For rising above her terrible childhood? Give me a break. Her parents didn’t abuse her, James. They were just busy.” Even though that was bad enough, she knew. But Stef had survived. Ruth stared at the ocean over her new husband’s slumped shoulder. “She got enough attention from my parents, anyway.”
“Who’s this James I keep hearing about?” Marvin asks.
Stef points her knife at Ruth. “Her hubby.”
“Aha.” He nods. “The mysterious missing husband in the big new house in Auntie Stef’s neighbourhood, right?”
A fruit fly is swimming in Ruth’s wine. The little legs are kicking uselessly. She dips a finger in and ferries the tiny body to one side, then crushes it against the glass. “That’s him,” she says, and wipes her finger on her napkin.
“They just moved!” Stef crows. “Ruth and I used to dream about growing up and getting houses on the same street. Didn’t we, Ruthie?”
A slow nod. “We did.”
“We were supposed to go to the same university too, but Ruth broke my heart and got accepted somewhere else. Silly girl. But then I met James and lured her back with him, and the rest is history. If it wasn’t for me, she’d probably still be on the market.”
Marvin glances sideways at Ruth. “Is that so?”
She shrugs and pulls the salad bowl toward her plate. Once she peers inside, though, she pushes it away. Stef used too much dressing and the vegetables are drowning in it.
For a few weeks after they started at their separate schools, Ruth and Stef had been farther apart than they’d ever been. Ruth missed her friend at first, but then she didn’t. She made new friends and they stayed up all night talking passionately about ideas. It didn’t even matter what the ideas were about because everyone’s brains were exploding and the deepest conversations could be sparked by the simplest things. She didn’t like beer yet so she drank vodka mixed with Crystal Light lemonade, which was awful but also really good. She flirted and laughed and ate too much junk food on dorm-room floors. She went to parties and concerts and played endless games of pinball in coffee shops. But then Stef wanted her to come and visit all the time, so she went.
And one of those times, a cute blond guy with pale-blue eyes wandered into Stef’s dorm room and sat down next to Ruth on Stef’s unmade single bed.
“Ruth, this is James,” Stef told her. “He’s a lonely only too.”
“I’m not lonely.” James smiled and stuck out his hand for Ruth to shake. “Actually, I take that back.”
“We’re just buddies,” Stef had purred into her ear later that night. “But he wants me.”
“A match made in heaven by a heavenly matchmaker.” Stef grins around the table and stabs at the slick leaves of her salad. “James used to say to me, ‘I really like this girl, but I’m not sure if I’m in the right headspace for a relationship.’” She mock-punches Ruth in the arm. “But I had your back, babe. I told him he’d better go out with you or else he’d be stuck with me!”
Ruth stiffens. She’s heard this before but now Stef has a new audience.
Marvin isn’t laughing, though. He’s gazing out the window quietly.
Ruth carves up her big steak, slowly and methodically, until her plate is full of small pieces that she still doesn’t feel like eating.
The words Stef doesn’t say shimmer between them: None of this would be possible without me.
“And then of course you met me, and I swept you off your feet.” Sammy leers at his wife. “Meaning I waited until you were passed out on my floor and then I tried to get you into my bed but you wouldn’t move, so I just lay down next to you and whispered subliminal messages in your ear all night to stoke your desire for me.”
“Yep.” Stef rolls her eyes. “That’s exactly how it went.”
Marvin swirls the wine in his glass, being careful not to spill any. “Love is funny, isn’t it?” he says. “The way it changes.”
He sounds unhappy, and Ruth reaches out and touches her glass to his.
“To Cottage Time,” she murmurs, but just to him, and his entire face lights up at the words.
After she and James started going out, Ruth used to interrogate him about his relationship with Stef. She never believed him when he said nothing had ever happened between them. Eventually he started getting angry when she asked, so she stopped. Even though she still wanted him to say the words. Because every other boy she’d ever known had always preferred her friend. That was how it had always been, so why would it be different now?
Ruth feels the wine working. She continues to sip her merlot or shiraz or whatever it is and her stomach warms and settles, waves of acid evaporating as the booze floods in. The calm spreads until it crowds out everything else, until there’s nothing left inside her at all.
“Well?” says Stef. She’s waiting for Ruth to say something.
“What?” She looks away from her friend to the red puddle on her plate. It would be rude to say she’s not hungry, so she guzzles more wine instead.
“I said how happy are you? Now that we’re all together?”
“Oh.” They’re all looking at her now. “Very happy.”
Sammy shoves a hunk of meat in his mouth and says to Ruth, “When’s the big guy coming up, anyway?”
“In a couple days,” says Stef.
He raises an eyebrow at her. “Did I ask you?”
“Whatever. By the way, the main-floor bathroom mirror is gross so you better clean it off later.”
“Why is that my fault?” says Sammy.
“Everything is your fault,” says Stef.
Ruth’s phone buzzes in her back pocket. She jumps and pulls it out, and grins at the text from James: I miss you!
She starts typing back and Stef hollers, “Rudeness!”
“I’ll be right back. James is just checking in.” She steps away from the table and heads for the kitchen. “I have to cook the pasta anyway.”
“Oh Jaaaames!” Stef trills. “I loooove you!”
Ruth keeps walking and types, I miss you too.
She sets her phone on the counter and opens the cupboard next to the fridge, which contains rows of Kraft Dinner boxes. She selects one, opens it up and dumps it into the boiling water on the stove. The pot gurgl
es and steams, and then something that isn’t macaroni floats to the surface.
Ruth stares dumbly at the white envelope, which she realizes must contain the cheese powder, and looks around for something to fish it out with. She doesn’t want it to burst open when it’s not supposed to.
There are no implements nearby that she can use, so she holds her breath and reaches in. The pain comes fast, but she perseveres and snags a corner of the packet and lifts it out. She pats it dry on a tea towel, then stands there sucking her red fingers like an idiot.
Her phone buzzes again and she grabs for it.
Stef says you guys are up to no good already.
She glances over at the screened porch, where Stef is typing away on her own phone, and frowns.
She turns the burner down so the pasta doesn’t boil over before she replies, Guess what? I’m making Kraft Dinner for Fern.
Whoa. You ARE up to no good.
That makes her smile.
How is our little bug?
She fights the urge to run down and check on Fern immediately. Instead she types, She’s fine.
When the horrible macaroni is ready, Ruth will serve it to the children and she will see that Fern is fine.
That’s good.
She waits for James to ask how she is, but he doesn’t, and then Marvin is walking toward her.
“Stef says you have no idea what you’re doing so I’d better take over,” he tells her.
Stef says Stef says Stef says.
Out on the porch, her friend lets out a loud, braying laugh.
“Oh,” she says. “Thanks.” Ruth stares at her tiny screen and then looks back at Marvin. “I’ll just—”
“Go.” He shoos her away. “Don’t leave the mysterious husband hanging.”
She carries her phone over to the basement doorway. The girls are watching their movie with the lights off so she can’t see anything.
She types, We’re having fun.
That’s good. I’ll be there soon.
That’s good too.
She wonders if that made him smile, and she waits to see if he’ll say anything else, but her screen stays empty.
She pockets her phone and edges down the stairs. The only sound is coming from the TV, which is loud. She thinks she hears a scream, but that can’t be right. This is a kids’ movie.
Worry Page 4
