Saving Ruth (21 page)

“No, I didn't.” I was embarrassed.

“Your hair looks really sexy, by the way,” I snarked, hoping to change the subject. Now I really didn't want to take my shirt off. I sat down heavily.

“Hey, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” He sat down beside me. “I really think it's a cute tick.”

“Like Tourette's, right?”

“No, like cute.” He put his arm around me and pulled me to him. I was keenly aware of his bare chest pressing against my tank top. There was only so much longer that I could keep my shirt on without feeling like a Mormon.

“That sun feels amazing,” he said, lying back on the blanket.
Okay, one, two, three, take it off.
I lay down quickly before I could obsess. The sand cupped my back like a heated foam mattress underneath the blanket.

“It really does.” I agreed, stretching out my legs. “For some reason so much different here than at the pool.” I stretched my arms out too.

He rolled over onto his arm and peered down at me. “What?” I asked.

“I feel like I'm on a date with Pamela Anderson.” He touched my red rib cage.

“Very funny. This happens to be the only bathing suit I own.” He put his arm around me and lowered his curly head onto my chest.

“I'm serious, Ruth! You look hot. Red is your color.”

“What are you, my gay stylist?” I laughed. “Red is my color?”

“Gay! I'll show you gay!” He rolled on top of me and pinned me to the ground, hovering just inches from my face. His hands made my forearms feel like chopsticks. Inside, I turned to jelly. He leaned down to kiss me, and the exquisite weight of his chest on top of mine made me catch my breath.

“Okay, you're not gay,” I whispered as we lay on our sides facing each other.

He smiled and touched my face.

“Want a beer?” He sat up and rummaged through the cooler.

“It's not even 11:00 AM!”

“What are you, a nun? It's a summer day at the beach.” He pulled a can out and popped it open. “You want?” Cold beads of water glistened invitingly on its aluminum surface.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”
The calories! Shut up, Ruth. You'll skip lunch.

“Nice.” He handed it to me and opened his own. I sat up as straight as I could, careful to arrange my suit over my stomach as I moved, and gazed out at the water. Our blanket smelled like coconut.

“How's David?” he asked.

“Oh, he's good, I guess.”

“You guess? Don't you see each other every day at swim practice and stuff?”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean we talk.” He nodded and took another sip.

“I get that. But y'all used to be pretty close, right?”

“Depends on what you mean by close, you know? I mean, we would hang out and stuff, but we never really broke it down or anything.”

“You were always hangin' out with us.” He smiled.
Jesus, he was cute
.

“Yeah, volunteering for slaughter.”

He laughed. “Whaddya mean? We played fair with you.”

“Ruth, grab our rebounds! Ruth, watch for cars! Ruth, bring us some popcorn.” I smirked. “Yeah, super fair.”

“You were so cute, Ruthie. And fun too.”

“I dunno about cute or fun, but I did love being around you guys. It was great to be the token chick. I didn't really have any guy friends growing up, you know. I'm a girl's girl.”

“The best kind to be, if you ask me. Who the hell would want to hang out with dudes all day if they had the choice?” The beer zipped quickly down my internal highway to my brain.

“But I feel like you and David were close, even without me around.”

“I guess we were when we were little,” I said. “Things got more complicated around middle school. He became
David Wasserman
, you know? And I was just the same.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, with his soccer and how good-looking he was and stuff. And his good grades.” I screwed my empty can deep into the sand. “He's like a celebrity.”

“He's always just been David to me.”

“That's because you're a celebrity too, silly.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled sadly. “That's rich. Me, a celebrity.” He took his cap off and raked his hands through his hair. “Maybe I used to have a fair amount of clout in high school, but that's not the way it is now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“Come on, I go to Tech, and I live at home with my mama.” He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “Not that I miss that bullshit, I truly don't, but I'm just sayin' that status like that can flip on a dime. That's one of the reasons I miss talkin' to your brother. We used to really talk about shit, you know? Not just surface stuff. I wonder how he's doin' in Oxford.”

“You guys really used to
talk
talk?”

“Ruth, please start sayin' ‘y-all' again, at least when you're with me. That Yankee ‘you guys' mess is like nails across a chalkboard.”

“Oh well, excuse me. First Martha Stewart, now you're Paula Dean!” He threw his head back and laughed.

“Point for Ruth.” He sighed. “But yeah, of course we used to talk. You think we just sat around from first grade to senior year playing video games and passin' gas? C'mon now.”

“What would you talk about?”

“Oh you know, this and that. He may have seemed really confident on the outside, but he wasn't so much on the inside. I think he felt sort of trapped by, what did you call it, his celebrity?”

“How?”

“I mean, when you're that perfect, it's hard to fuck up, you know? Especially if you're a good guy like he is. You don't want to disappoint anybody.”

“I didn't realize that it was a struggle for him.”

“Well, struggle is sort of a dramatic word, but yeah, I'd say it bothered him. And then the whole art major thing. He really wanted to study that at school, but knew that it wasn't exactly a smart plan for the future.”

“He knew, or my parents convinced him?”

“Probably a little of both. But listen, I don't wanna really get into this. It's stuff between me and him.”

“Oh, bro code?”

“Yeah.” We sat in silence for a moment, watching the waves lap at the shore.

“I'm sorry he's been so distant.” I put my hand on his back, which was damp with sweat. “I know how it feels. I miss him too.” I wondered if Chris had heard the rumor. Should I ask?

“Wanna get in the water?” I nodded, and he pulled me to my feet.

Another day, I would ask. Today was about us and whatever this was. Because whatever this was felt pretty great.

23

“H
ello?”

“Hi, Ruth?”

“This is her. I mean, she. This is she.”

“Ruth, this is Miss Mary, Tanisha's mom. You called?”

“Oh, hi.” My palms immediately began to sweat, and I put the dish sponge face down on the aluminum sink. I glanced nervously at the kitchen table, where my dad was reading the paper and spooning cereal out of a giant orange bowl. Maddie's tail swished against my feet. She looked up at me expectantly.

“How are you?” I asked awkwardly.

“I'm fine. Happy Fourth of July. Y'all got somethin' goin' at the pool today?”

“Oh yes, ma'am. A big day of relays and pizza and stuff. What are you guys gonna do?”

“Our family has a big party every year down at the park. We'll be barbecuin' while the kids run around all day.”

“Oh, nice.”

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about that message you left for me the other day. About swim lessons for Tanisha?”

“Sure.” I walked out of the kitchen and through the family room.

“Can I ask you somethin'?”

“Please.”

“Why you doin' this? Tanisha could get swim lessons from someplace else, you know, we don't need a handout.”

“Oh, I—”

“Not to mention the fact that you're askin' my baby to come back to the scene of the crime—the place where she almost drowned. That could be pretty traumatic for a five-year-old.”

“I understand that, Ma—, Miss Mary. I thought it might be good for her, though, to go back to the pool and see it as a safe place instead of a scary one. You know, confronting her fears and all that.”

Mary laughed. “Look at you, gettin' all Dr. Phil on us! She's
five
, girl.”

“Yes, ma'am, I know. Maybe that was naive of me.”

“You feel guilty about what happened? Is that what this is about?”

“I don't know if ‘guilty' is the right word. I just don't want her to be scared of the water. And I like Tanisha a lot—she's a sweet girl. I coach swim team anyway, so I'm up in the morning early. An extra half-hour of coaching time isn't a big deal to me.”

“How come your brother ain't offerin' his services? He's the one who let her go under, isn't he? He doesn't feel guilty?”

“All due respect, Miss Mary, he didn't let her do anything. She was in his blind spot. That's why you have two lifeguards on duty at a time, in case one of you misses something. He doesn't even know I'm offering these lessons up.”

“Oh, y'all don't talk?”

“Yes, we talk.” She was annoying me. Were we sorority sisters shooting the shit or were we going to agree to something here? “Listen, do you want to do this? I have to get to work.”

“Okay, Miss Attitude! Hold on a second.” She covered the receiver with her hand, but I could hear muffled voices. Moments later, she peeled her hand off and returned. “You know what, I think we should give the lessons a try. If it's not workin' out, we quit.”

“I think that's a great idea. I really do. I like Tan—”

“Yeah, we already covered that. When do we start?”

“How about Monday at nine AM?”

“Same pool? Down at the bottom of that hill?”

“That's the one.”

“All right, we'll be there.”

“Great, see you then.”

“Ruth?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” she said quickly and hung up. I felt good about this—like I was doing the right, unselfish thing for once. Should I tell David? I wasn't sure how he would react. He'd either tell me that I was a busybody and that I should just have left it alone, or he'd want to get in on the action and help Tanisha too. I wanted this to be my thing. So much for unselfish.

“Who was that?” asked my dad, suddenly appearing in my doorway.

“No one! Quit snooping around.”

“I'm not snooping. I was just concerned. You sounded nervous.”

“Dad, take it easy. I'm a big girl.” I sighed heavily. “You're such a yenta.”

“You headed to the pool?”

“Yeah, I have to work all day.”

“Your mom and I might come down later for some pizza or something.”

“Okay, cool.” I got up and grabbed my backpack. As I walked out the door, he hugged me.

“I'm sorry, Ruthie. I'll try to de-yenta-ize myself.”

“It's okay, Dad, I know you can't help it.”

“Hey, listen, your brother's exhibition game is this weekend—on Saturday. Your mother and I are going to drive over to Atlanta and surprise him. I don't know what your plans are, but it might be fun if you came along. A Wasserman road trip, just like the old days!”

My stomach plunged to the floor. “Do what now?”

“It's their annual Mercer opening scrimmage. All of the guys come together for a practice game before they return to school for good. Remember? We went last year.”

“Why are you not telling David you're coming?” My voice cracked.

“Eh, he's been such a pill all summer. We thought it would be nice to surprise him and maybe take him out for a big meal afterward. Make him feel special. Why, what's the big deal?”

“No big deal, just asking.” This was going to be a disaster of epic proportions. I wasn't sure who I wanted to protect more, them or David.

“So think about it. It would be nice if you came along.” He patted me on the back and left the room.

Outside, I retrieved my bike in a haze of anxious fog. This was serious. I had no idea what to do. I couldn't warn David because he didn't know I knew. And besides, how could this be fixed? Was he going to pretend to be on the team? Suit up and then kind of linger off to the side like some kind of creepy fan? And wait—this meant that he was actually planning to pretend to go to Atlanta, so as not to tip off my parents. What was with him? Why go to all of this trouble? Unless, of course, the rumor was completely untrue and I was the gullible jerk who believed it—and wanted to believe it. Was I really a sister so desperate for her brother to screw up that she mistook hearsay for truth and gave herself an ulcer in the process?

I pedaled slowly. The road shimmered ahead of me. Should I just confront David and get it over with? That way, if it was true, he had time to try to forge some sort of game plan, and if it wasn't true, I was just casually mentioning a rumor that I had heard. Yeah, that was the way to face it—as casually as possible. I made a left and soon was sailing down the hill that led to the pool. I closed my eyes and tried to appreciate the wind on my face.

“Ruthie!” yelled Jason from inside the snack bar as I parked. “You ready to pull double duty today?”

“Whaddya mean?” I asked as I walked in.

“Your jackass brother took off for a soccer game in Atlanta and left us high and dry. On the biggest day of the summer no less.”

“What?”

“He took off for a soccer game.”

“But it's not until Saturday! Today is Thursday.” Never mind the fact that he doesn't even play for the team—that he doesn't even go to the damn school.
Ruth, quit jumping to conclusions. Stay calm.

“All I know is, he said he wanted to leave today, so he left.”

I threw my backpack behind the snack bar and collapsed into the white plastic chair while Jason opened the fridge and did a quick corndog tally. “We should be okay on food today. I did a huge shop this morning. Hey, who died? You're lookin' a little sour.”

“Just a shitty morning.” I sighed. “I'm not in the mood for this today. And how come I have to pull a double? It's bullshit.”

“Join the freakin' club, princess. You think I'm in the mood to deal with a hundred screaming kids and their parents?” He pointed to his truck, which was parked in the back. “That oughta cheer you up. You know what's fillin' up that bed?”

“What?”

“Watermelons! We're gonna grease 'em up and do that relay race we did last year.”

“Great, I can't wait.”

“Buck up, Wasserman, I mean it. You're gonna look back on these summers when you're old and creaky and realize that this was the good life.”

“Don't we need to hang some dumb American flags or something?” I rifled through my bag for a cigarette.

“Hey there, watch yer mouth. Ain't nothin' dumb about that flag. Man, I love that song—how does it go?
I'm proud to be an American
—”

“
Where at least I know I'm free
,” I chimed in flatly.

“And I won't forget the men who diedddddddddd—”

I lit my cigarette and blew smoke in his face.

“Real nice, Ruth. You're just way too cool for school, ain'tcha?” He took it out of my hand and crushed it beneath his sneaker. “This is a no smoking area. Let's go check the chlorine.” I sulked as I flip-flopped along behind him, straightening the plastic lounge chairs as I went. He knelt down to fill the plastic vial with water.

“It's hot as hell already,” he said. “Damn.”

“Hey, do you think David's been a little weird this summer?” I asked.

“Weird how?”

“I dunno, weird as in not his usual self. Sorta quiet.”

“Yeah, I guess so, now that you mention it.” He held the vial up to check the level. “Perfect.”

“Has he said anything to you at all?”

“Has he said anything to me about bein' quiet? Ain't that an oxymoron, Ruthie?” I rolled my eyes. “Why, you worried about him?”

“No! Not worried. Just curious.” It was obvious Jason knew nothing.

“Hey!” called Dana from the parking lot, interrupting the conversation.

“Dana!” he yelled back. “Get yer ass down here and lube up some watermelons!”

I
blew my whistle. “No running!”

The kids were like feral cats today—screaming like banshees, jumping off every raised surface, shoving food in their faces at every opportunity, peeing in the pool. It was off the charts.

All the while I couldn't get my mind off the whole exhibition game mishigas. Not only was David lying to my parents about school, but he was lying to everyone else as well. Me, Jason, and who knows who else. Leaving early to play for an imaginary soccer team at an imaginary college where he was imaginary enrolled? I was so confused. Where was he?

“Yo, Ruth, I'm here to relieve you.”

I jumped, startled by Kevin's voice below me. “Oh, sorry. This heat has melted my brain.” I scooted over and kept my eyes on the pool as he climbed up.

“Hey, are we okay?” he asked. I looked up as my feet hit the pavement.

“Huh?”

“I just feel like you've been pretty frigid to me since our argument.” His eyes were obscured by his mirrored sunglasses. My own face stared back at me.

“Yeah, well, you know. I don't agree with what you said.” I scratched a mosquito bite on the top of my left foot with my right.

“I get that. I'm sorry I said it.” He raised the umbrella slightly. “That's not how I feel all the time.”

“Yeah. I guess the way I see it is that if that word is even in your vocabulary, it's the way you feel most of the time.”

“Can we just agree to disagree and go back to the way things were?”

“Could you at least try to open your mind, Kevin? Just a little?”

“Deal.”

“Okay, deal.” I smiled at him. I knew that our conversation would most likely have no effect on him, but just to be speaking about it seemed hopeful enough.

“When's the pizza comin'?” I asked Dana back at the concession stand. I filled up my water bottle and eyed the card tables decorated with American flag paper tablecloths, napkins, and plastic utensils.

“In about a half-hour,” she answered, yawning. “I am starvin'.”

I was too, but I didn't know what I was going to eat. I could scrape all the toppings off the pizza and just eat the bread. That would kill two birds with one stone—hunger and the prying eyes of the pool's concerned citizen brigade. Strategizing every meal was exhausting. It was like a culinary game of “Survivor,” only I was the solitary contestant.

“Ruth?” I turned to find Khaki holding up a plastic water bottle. “Could I get a refill, please?”

“Of course.” I took her bottle from her. “Hey, Khaki, you look great.” She had lost weight, but I hadn't been able to see it until now. The bones in her face had started to emerge. No longer round, her face was more like a small, freckled heart.

“I ran this morning,” she whispered, glancing nervously at Dana, who was texting furiously on her BlackBerry.

“You did?” I came out from behind the desk and hugged her. “That's amazing! How did it feel?”

“Awful.” She sighed. “Well, just at first it was awful. It got a little bit better after a couple minutes or so.”

“Seriously? I am so proud of you. Running on your own? That is badass.”

Her eyes widened at my curse. “Thanks, Ruth.” She glanced over at the food table. “I'm gonna have some pizza later. Just a slice or two. Because I ran and stuff.” She looked up at me. “I can, right? That's the moderation thing you were talking about?”

“It is. And of course you can. You've earned it.”

“Ruth!” We looked up, startled. It was Laney. “Ruth, did you see Miss Khaki today? Doesn't she look wonderful?” She kneeled down and gave her daughter a peck on the cheek. “I mean, we are on our way to bein' a supermodel, aren't we, Khak?” Khaki gazed at the concrete. “Ruth, we could not be more pleased. Thank you for all of the work you've been puttin' in. Khaki just adores you.” She paused. “Isn't that right, sweetie? You love Miss Ruth.” Khaki nodded dejectedly.

“Oh, I didn't do anything. It's all Khaki. She a strong girl. I'm really proud of her.” I took her hand and squeezed.

“Khaki, now you know Mama's got some vegetable slices all crisp and ready for you in the cooler. We'll have some of that instead of that nasty pizza, mmkay?” She smoothed Khaki's hair.