Ain't No Sunshine (7 page)

"I think it's brilliant.  I could use just five different kitchen substances, place a piece of metal in each, and see if the metal loses any mass over time.  How long should I let them sit?"  I loved this.  I loved that we could talk like this.  And it didn't hurt that it was about my favorite subject.  Ruthie finished her sandwich and started to look around the kitchen for something else to snack on.

"Well, considering that a prisoner would have all the time in the world practically, you should let them sit for a pretty long time.  I would say a few months," she said as she opened and closed cabinets.

"But what happens if I devote three months to this experiment and nothing happens?"

"Well, you always say that it's the process that matters.  So, you would still have a project."  Ruthie gave up on looking for food and started fiddling with the radio.

"But that's not enough to win.  I want to win."

"Winning isn't everything, Stephen." 

"Let's hear you say that during your next art contest," I said.  Ruthie smiled and kept turning the dial on the radio.  Then it hit me.  "That's it!"  I yelled so loudly, Ruthie nearly jumped out of her skin.

"What's it?"

"The radio.
 
Electricity.
  I can add an electric current to the acid to speed up the process.  You're a genius."  I picked her up and swung her around.  Then we spontaneously started swaying to the Marvin Gaye song that was on. Her arms reached around my neck as Marvin intoned the words of
Mercy
Mercy
Me
. My hands slipped under her shirt and rubbed her soft, warm skin.

"What's going on here?" my father asked as he walked into the kitchen.  He had a peculiar expression on his face.  It was like he didn't even really see us; like he was looking through us at a different time.  He looked around at all my equipment lying around the kitchen and he started to shake.  It was as if he was genuinely afraid.  "What are you doing to her?"  He spit the words at me viciously.  Ruthie wriggled out of my arms and headed for the door.  My father grabbed her by the arm.  "Did he hurt you?" he asked as he held on to her.

"Stephen would never hurt me, sir.  Honest."  Ruthie answered sheepishly.  She gave me a confused
glance
,asking
for an explanation, but I was just as confused as she was.  She was trying to wriggle out of his grasp.  Finally, she succeeded and bolted out of the back door.  My father stood there for a few minutes, staring at where she had been, and then he walked right past me and headed to his bedroom.  He didn't say another word.

I didn't understand his reaction. Why would he think I was trying to hurt Ruthie? The way he looked at her was...was...I don't know what it was. It was almost as if he was looking through her and into another time, and into some secret past. I didn't know if I really wanted to know that secret.

I had no idea what went through my father's head.  All I knew for sure was that he didn't want me with Ruthie.  He could see that his attempt to set me up with Mary Elizabeth had failed miserably.  For two years she continued to call and try to find ways for us to meet up together, but I always found an excuse to avoid her. We never became a couple, so my father had to find another way to put an end to the feelings Ruthie and I shared.

"Ruth is going away for the summer," he said on the last day of my sophomore year of high school.

My spoon clattered in my cereal bowl. "What are you talking about?"

My father spun around on me. "Don't question me, boy."

"I'm sorry, Father." I cast my eyes downward, afraid to meet his menacing glare.

He straightened his shoulders then reached for a coffee mug from the cupboard. "Ruth is a very talented artist," he said. "It's about time she developed that talent."

I was afraid to ask what he meant. Thankfully, he continued.

"I'm paying for a program at an art school in New York. She'll be gone for six weeks."

"Six weeks!" I leapt from my chair. How could she be gone for six weeks? We hadn't been apart for more than two days our entire lives. I didn't know if I could live without her for six weeks. What was I going to do?

Sure that my reaction would spark a violent tirade from my father, I braced myself for a blow to the face, but it didn't come.

Instead, he looked down and said, "It's for the best."

One look shared with Ruthie after English class that day was enough of a sign - she knew we needed to talk. We met during lunch, in the woods a block away from school.

"Six weeks?" I said, folding her into my arms as soon as we were alone.

"I know. I know. I have no idea why he's doing this. What is he thinking?"

"I'll tell you what he's thinking. He's trying to keep us apart," I said, squeezing her tightly.

"How can he be trying to keep us apart when he doesn't even know we're together?" She pulled away and looked at me with panic in her eyes before saying, "You haven't told him anything have you?"

"No, of course not.
If my father knew what I felt for you, I'd be dead right now." That was the wrong choice of words. Ruthie turned away and hugged herself. "That's not what I meant," I said placing my hands on her shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

"You're right," she said, shaking her head. "We're stepping into dangerous territory, Stephen. Stealing kisses by the lake as children is one thing, but we're getting older now. We're going to be sixteen."

"So?" I didn't know what she was trying to say, but I didn't like her tone. "You're not seriously considering going are you?"

She didn't answer at first. I spun her around so that I was looking in her eyes. "Stephen, we don't have a future together. There's just no way. Maybe some time apart would be good for us. Maybe if we see that there are other things out there –"

"I don't care what else is out there. I only want you." I leaned down to kiss her, but she turned away. My lips landed on her cheek.

"I know that's what you think, but look at us. We're hiding in the woods just so we can talk. You can't even tell your father about us."

"Is that what you want? I'll tell him today if it will make you stay."

She shook her head. "Your father scares me. I don't know what he'd do if he knew. I also don't know what he'd do if I reject his offer."

She took a step away from me. I watched the sunlight trickle through the trees and dance on her face, bringing in shadows of doubt. Or was it something else? Maybe she just didn't love me as much as I loved her. Or maybe my father had gotten to her.

"He said something to you, didn't he? Did he threaten you?" Through all the years of abuse from my father, I had never even considered fighting back in my own defense. But if he'd threatened my Ruthie, I think I would be angry enough to kill him.

"No, he didn't threaten me. But what he did say made a lot of sense." Leaves crunched under her feet as she paced around me. "He probably didn't tell you how prestigious this school is. I had to be accepted before your father could even offer to pay. I can't pass up this opportunity."

I sat down on the ground and ran my fingers through my hair. I couldn't believe she was planning on leaving me for six weeks. What was I supposed to do without her?

"I think I should go," she said after several minutes of pacing.

I shook my head. "No, no. Don't do this. This is just what he wants."

Ruthie knelt in front of and cupped my face in her hands. "It's only six weeks, Stephen. And in that time, please try to find... something else you're passionate about."

I continued to shake my head.

"Just try, okay? And if, in six weeks, we still feel the same way about each other -”

I interrupted her with a kiss so strong it showed her without a doubt where my passion was.  I didn't want to stop kissing her. How could she deprive me of her lips for six weeks? I didn't think I could bear it.

Ruthie placed her hands on my chest and pushed me away firmly. Then she ran out of the woods, wiping tears from her eyes.

The next day she was gone.

"I think I know what's going on here," Lieutenant Drake said. "Your father was in love with Ruthie. He's been trying to keep you apart all these years because he wants her for himself." He gave a satisfied grin as if he'd unearthed some big mystery. He could dig for days into my father's disturbed psyche and still be nowhere near the truth.

"Did he touch her or something?" he continued. "Is that why you killed him? He touched your girlfriend, you couldn't control your rage, and you killed him in a fit of jealousy."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "No, that's not it," I said, putting my head in my hands. I should have just let him think that. It would have been easier than what I would eventually have to tell him.  But I couldn't let him think that about Ruthie. Not my pure, perfect Ruthie.

There was a rapid knock on the door.

"Lieutenant Drake," a blonde woman said after poking her head into the room. "We finally got in touch with a Stanley Pender from the Livingston police department. Do you want to talk to him?
Maybe to corroborate his story?"

My head bolted upright. Lieutenant Drake scooted his chair back and started to stand.

My heartbeat accelerated. My breath caught. I couldn't let him talk to Officer Pender. Not yet, anyway. "How can you corroborate my story when you haven't gotten all of it?" I asked, hoping it would be enough. All I needed was a few more hours.

Lieutenant Drake looked at his watch. I didn't have a watch, but I knew it had to be at least three in the morning.

"Sarah, why don't you tell him to go back to sleep and we'll talk to him in the morning."

"Sure thing," Sarah said before exiting the room.

I exhaled and relaxed a little.

"So where were we?" the lieutenant asked, scooting closer to the table. "Right, you never answered my question. Did your father somehow hurt Ruthie? Is that why you killed him?"

I shook my head. "My father would never hurt Ruthie. He loved her more than he loved me."

"So I'm right. You were jealous of your father's feelings for her and that's why you killed him."

I shook my head again. "I thought you didn't think I killed him. I thought you said I wasn't capable."

"I don't. But given the right circumstances people can be driven to do uncharacteristic things."

I stared down at my hands.
Uncharacteristic?
What was my character? Sometimes I didn't know who or what I was, let alone what my character was.

"We had an agreement, Stephen," Lieutenant Drake said after a few minutes. “Keep talking.”

"When Ruthie left me that summer," I said, "I thought I'd go insane. I didn't think I would survive.”

"How did you?"

"Julius," was my only response.

"Who's that?"

Ruthie wanted me to find something else I was passionate about? Just how was I supposed to do that? I could barely function without her. Three days after she'd left I still hadn't even gotten out of bed. How was I supposed to find anything?