Seasons of Her Life (56 page)

Eve turned completely around in her chair, spotted a stray peanut on the end table, and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes narrowed.

“There will be no divorce,” she muttered as she marched into the kitchen in search of a fresh can of peanuts. “I didn't put up with you all these years to go it alone now when I'm due to go on Medicare. Think again, Calvin.”

The following morning, over a breakfast of ham and eggs, Ruby
Blue and Calvin Santos began an affair that was to last five years. They were young again, in one of the most romantic cities of the world, a city where they'd met long ago and fallen in love.

Ruby stared across the table, her eyes starry, at Calvin, who wore an identical expression. They talked steadily until the waiter asked them if they were staying for lunch. They were laughing like two children; Calvin paid the bill and left a generous tip.

Outside in the parking lot, Ruby turned to Calvin. Her voice was serious. “What did we eat, Calvin? I want to remember this breakfast. I'm in such a dither, I feel as if I should take notes.”

“Waffles and bacon,” Calvin said promptly as he ushered her into the front seat of a VW Beetle which had seen better times. Ruby scribbled down waffles and bacon on the back of her checkbook, certain she'd had pancakes and sausage.

They drove off, whooping and laughing, sillier than teenagers, happier than newlyweds.

They drove all over Washington, to Mount Pleasant, past the house on Kilbourne Place, and down the alley behind the house on Monroe Street to see if the flowered trash cans were still in existence. They weren't. Rena and Bruno now lived in Arlington, Virginia, in a magnificent colonial house. They drove past the zoo. Ruby's eyes grew misty. Calvin cleared his throat huskily.

“Let's go to the park,” he said, executing a wicked turn. “I want—”

“What?” Ruby asked softly.

“We had some of our happiest times in the park. We picnicked, we necked. We talked about our future, our plans, and how we'd be together for the rest of our lives. Remember how we talked about growing old together?”

“We are old, Calvin.” Ruby giggled. “Yes, let's go to the park. You should have carved our initials in a tree so we could look for it.”

“I wish I had,” Calvin said softly, reaching for her hand. “I'm going to do it right now!” he said, steering the little car at breakneck speed into a parking space. He was out of the car a second later and opening Ruby's door.

They ran over the frozen ground, laughing and shouting each other's names over and over. Breathless and winded, Ruby collapsed against Calvin. How wonderful it is, she thought, being here with Calvin's arms around me. She knew he was going to kiss her; she wanted him to. She felt the softness of his fingers as he cupped her face in his hands; she heard his strangled sigh—or was it her own—and felt his lips on hers. It was like the first time he'd kissed her, sweet and gentle, until she'd demanded more. She demanded now and he responded the way he had that very first time.

When they parted, Calvin said in a choked burst of laughter, “I'd drag you off to my lair if I had a lair.”

“I have a lair,” Ruby whispered.

“I know. Jesus, Ruby, I never wanted anything so much in my life.”

“What are we going to do about it?” Ruby continued to whisper.

“Not much if we stay here. My balls are almost frozen.” Calvin grinned.

Ruby linked her arm in his. “Then, General, what I think we should do is head for my lair and do whatever comes naturally.” She was smiling; Calvin was grinning from ear to ear.

 

Calvin tossed his overcoat onto a chair. Ruby's coat followed. She kicked off her shoes, hardly noticing them flying across the room as Calvin removed his suit jacket. She shed her jewelry; he did the same. She untied her scarf as Calvin jerked at his tie. It was a nice tie, she noticed. His shirt was on the floor as her dress slipped down about her ankles. She reached for his belt buckle as he reached to undo the clasp of her bra.

Wings of fear and apprehension beat in Calvin's chest as he stared at Ruby's breasts. She leaned into him, one hand trying to slide her half slip down over her hips while her other hand continued to loosen his trousers.

“Jesus,” Calvin murmured. “Help me, Ruby. Why do you wear so many clothes?”

“So you'll appreciate me more when you finally—” She toppled him onto the bed, her breathing as ragged as his. Her head was spinning. The raw, aching need she felt transferred itself to Calvin as he crushed his body against hers. She felt the strangled sigh build inside him. She drew away and buried her face into the crook of his arm, her hand busy, creating little trails up and down his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, wondering if it would leap out of his chest, the way hers was about to.

Her fingers moved again, stroking the wiry hair on his chest in little circles and then moving, slowly, in a straight, tantalizing line toward his navel. She inched away from the crook of his arm, whispering. “Let me, I want to do this. I want to drive you to the brink and back again until neither of us can stand it. Lie still.”

As if he could move. He was dead, halfway to heaven. The excitement he was feeling was unbearable. His eyes rolled back in his head when he felt Ruby's soft hands move downward. He pushed himself into the pillows, against the headboard, waiting for the surge of passion to ease. Instead, it built and he cried out her name—again and again.

And then it began in earnest. He knew he was being driven out of his mind as Ruby used every bit of her body to bring him to that one last excruciating moment. How could a soft tongue, an equally soft breath, be driving him to the point of insanity? He'd never been licked, never been tasted. And then the wonderful, tantalizing ministrations ceased and she was straddling him, staring deeply into his eyes. “Do you want me to do it or do you want to do it?” she asked breathlessly.

He rolled her over and was exploding into oblivion a moment later. He was crushing her, he knew, but he couldn't move. He loved nestling his head between her sweet-smelling breasts. He felt her inch out from under him, her breathing as harsh as his own.

He drew her to him, kissing her damp forehead, her eyes, the tip of her nose. “My God, I love you.” He groaned. He stared deeply into her eyes, waiting for her response that he needed to hear. He sighed happily when she whispered the same words. God in heaven, she truly did love him. He wished there were a way to measure love to see which one of them loved the most. He voiced the thought. He felt her smile against his chest.

He allowed her to see his vulnerability then, the words rushing out, his wedding night, the subsequent tries at making love with his wife. His dreams of her. “Shhh, don't cry for me, Ruby. That's past. We're here now. We're together,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her.

“I can't help it, Calvin, no one should be able to count the times they made love in thirty years on both hands.” She squirmed in his embrace, propping herself on her elbow. He wiped at her tears with a corner of the sheet.

“Smile, Ruby, and please don't pity me.”

Ruby smiled. “I have an idea,” she purred, “if we try real hard, between now and when I leave tomorrow, I think we might be able to set a new record for you.” She nibbled on his ear, her tongue soft and moist as her hands charted, explored, and conquered once again.

They slept, they made love, they showered, and made love again. It was almost dawn when Calvin slid his legs over the side of the bed. He felt like a bull. He pawed at the carpet before he got dressed. He scribbled a note and propped it up next to the phone. He was going home to change his clothes. He'd be back by ten. He'd drive her to the airport at five o'clock. “I love you,” he whispered. He leaned over to kiss Ruby on the cheek before he let himself out of the room. He whistled all the way to the car and on the twenty-minute drive home. He was still whistling when he let himself into the kitchen. the same dirty dishes stared up at him. The cat hissed angrily that his dish was empty. He was still whistling softly as he made his way down the steps to his office bedroom. He almost burst into song when he stepped under the needle-sharp spray of the shower.

“That mustache you're trying to grow looks stupid,” Eve said when he walked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

Ruby liked it; said he looked distinguished. He liked it himself. Another few days and it would be fully grown and ready to be trimmed. Calvin ignored her. He walked away, down to the den and the chair he could commandeer until it was time to leave. He turned on the television. A moment later he realized he had two choices: he could either watch a religious program or cartoons. He was laughing uproariously when Eve walked into the room dressed for church.

“I'm ready, aren't you going?” Eve demanded, brandishing her prayer book under his nose.

“No,” Calvin said, watching a cluster of mice attack a big black cat on the screen.

Eve sniffed. How dowdy she looked, Calvin thought. “You should get a new coat,” he said generously. “I don't see coats like that anymore.” Ah, good, the cartoon mice had the cartoon cat tied to the table leg. “You'll be late if you don't hurry.” He wanted her out of the room so he could be alone.

Eve turned on her heel. “Don't forget we're playing bridge with the Olivers at four o'clock.”

“Can't today,” Calvin said, slapping his thighs when the mice struck a match under the cat's foot. He howled when Eve's cat hissed his displeasure at such goings-on. “I have plans.”

“What plans?” Eve shrieked. “We always play bridge on Sunday afternoon. We have to keep up appearances.”

“I told you a friend of mine is in town. I'm having breakfast and lunch with that friend and then I'm driving that friend to the airport. End of discussion.” Damn, the cat was free and chasing the mice. Calvin finished his coffee and turned off the television.

“Then I can't play, either. Why didn't you tell me this last night? Now I'll have to call and cancel.”

“So call and cancel. You always said I was a lousy player. You're a good player, so you should find a good partner. In fact, I think I won't be playing anymore. And I'm not shaving off this mustache,” Calvin declared. With Ruby in his life he'd finally found the courage to rail back at Eve. God, how he hated the Sunday afternoon bridge games.

“You can't just go and change everything in our lives whenever you feel like it,” Eve shouted.

“Oh? Did you forget that talk we had last night? I meant every word,” Calvin said airily.

 

Both Ruby and Calvin stared at the digital clock with the bright red numbers. Calvin shifted the pillows behind his head. Ruby squirmed to a more comfortable position in the crook of his arm. “We have to get dressed,” Calvin said quietly.

“I feel sad,” Ruby said, snuggling deeper. “I don't want to go home. There's no one there for me.”

“I don't want to go home, either,” Calvin muttered as he smoothed Ruby's damp hair back from her brow. She smelled so sweet, so musky, so like himself. “I'll call you tomorrow, and you can tell me when you can get away so we can meet in Kansas City. What's a good time to call?”

“Before you leave the office or on your way home. Six, six-thirty.”

“Okay. I'll rent a post office box on my lunch hour. You'll write every day even if we talk on the phone?”

“I promise.”

Thirty-five minutes later the green Beetle roared to the curb at Washington's National Airport. “You'll have to run, Ruby, you have only ten minutes. Don't say anything.”

She nodded. On the curb, suitcase in hand, she turned, “You forgot to carve our initials in the tree.” She grinned.

“A small matter for this general. I'll drive over to the park and do it now with my official Air Force pocket knife.”

“It's dark.” Ruby laughed.

“I'll use my official Air Force flashlight. The next time you come back, it will look like it's been there for twenty-seven years. Go, now, before one of us does something stupid.”

Ruby ran. Calvin drove to Rock Creek Park and kept his promise.

Calvin was so absorbed in this thoughts when he came home he barely noticed that the outside light was on or that his place was set for dinner. A pot of spaghetti, one of his favorites, was on the stove. He discovered Eve sitting on the sofa in the den. “You can have the chair,” he said magnanimously. “As a matter of fact, you can have the whole room.” It was hard not to smile, not to shout out how happy he was. It was a weekend he would never forget.

He left the room and closed the door behind him. He locked the door to his own room when he went inside. Funny, he thought. In all the years they had been married, this was the first time he had ever locked that door.

Ruby backed her car out of the driveway before she turned on
the headlights. Twenty minutes yet till dawn. She was going to bang on Dixie's door until it was opened to her. If she had to break a pane of glass to get into her friend's house through the garage, she would do it. She wasn't going to let one more minute pass until she knew what was going on in Dixie's life. Five days with no word from her meant big trouble. Dixie owed her a satisfactory explanation if nothing else.

The drive was short. Seven minutes according to the watch on her wrist. Now what? she thought as she doused the lights and cut the ignition. Now you get out of the car, walk around to the kitchen door, and you bang hard enough to wake the dead. There was that word again, the word she hated the most in the English language. Dead. Or was it
good-bye? You're stalling, Ruby.

The night-light in Dixie's kitchen cast a yellowish light on the furnishings. For a second she almost didn't see her friend sitting at the breakfast table in the corner. She could tell Dixie was crying by the way her shoulders shook. She felt her eyes widen when she noticed the bottle of whiskey and the short, squat glass near her elbow. Something was wrong. Dixie never drank. She'd never seen her take more than a few sips of anything. Hugo didn't drink at all.

She had second thoughts now. Did she have the right to intrude on her friend? She argued with herself. Friends and family were what life was all about. Whatever was wrong now had something to do with that awful phone call and the words that passed between them. She knew the door wasn't locked. Dixie hardly ever locked the kitchen door. She turned the round brass knob and the door opened without a sound. Ruby tiptoed into the kitchen.

“Hey,” she said softly, “I was in the neighborhood and saw your light.”

Dixie turned, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was just thinking about you, Ruby. Oh, Ruby,” she wailed.

“Shhh,” Ruby said, wrapping Dixie in her arms. “Whatever's wrong, and I know something is wrong, we'll make it right together. Two heads are always better than one. Now, tell me.”

“Hugo is dying. He absolutely refused to go to the hospital. He slipped into a coma last night. The doctor was here. He stops by twice a day. I couldn't burden you, Ruby. This was ... is something I have to deal with. That ... that phone call ... it was a horror. Hugo ... well, what happened was I finally told him I was half of Mrs. Sugar. I came right out and said the words. If he hadn't been so sick, I know he would have killed me right on the spot. He's been getting some kind of bootleg drug from Mexico. He used almost all the money in our joint savings account. I don't care about that. He refused to go to the Navy doctors. The truth is, I think he refused to believe he was as sick as he was. Then, when I told him about all the money I had, he went into a rage. He said he could have gone to Switzerland, to France, to all these places where they have miracle cures. He even said he wanted to go to Lourdes. I was getting all set to call and make arrangements to take him, when you called. Hugo was being ... Hugo. Then he went into this whole thing with his family and how he was the only one who never measured up. He said ... Ruby, he said he married me only to spite them.”

Ruby's heart thumped in her chest. She wanted to go to wherever Hugo was and drive a stake through his heart for the way he'd treated her friend.

“Do you know what he did then, Ruby? God, you are never going to believe this. He made me sign over a power of attorney. Then he called his family. He ... he had this absolutely insane conversation with them. He said ... he told them he was half of Mrs. Sugar. He said it was the same as being a famous heart surgeon, a judge, a big-time lawyer, or owning a famous antique store. Then he told them he was dying. He had this ... this terrible look on his face. I think it was the first time he ... admitted to himself that he ... that he wasn't going to make it. Then he said ... he ... he said he was making a will and leaving his half of Mrs. Sugar to his family. My God, Ruby, he really said that! He was going to give away half of what I've worked for all these years.”

“Oh, Dixie, how terrible for you. It's all right. Everything is going to be all right. We'll
make
it right. Now, go wash your face. I'm going to cook us some breakfast and then we're going to do whatever has to be done.”

A fierce protective surge rushed through Ruby. She cradled Dixie in her arms as if she were her own child. She murmured comforting, soothing words, stroked her hair while she patted her back.

“Oh, Ruby, what would I do without you?” Dixie sobbed. “You're the only good thing that ever happened to me. I'm sorry I upset you. I'm sorry about the phone call. Sorry I put you through even one moment of anxiety. I wish ... sometimes I wish I were dead.”

Ruby stiff-armed her friend. “Do not, I repeat, do not ever let me hear you say that again. Do you hear me, Dixie?” she said harshly.

“I didn't mean it, Ruby. It's just that sometimes I—Look, let's start over. I was going to wash my face and you were going to make breakfast. I'm really hungry. I don't think I ate last night. I can't really remember. Just one egg, though.”

“You got it,” Ruby said, giving herself a mental shake.

Everything was going to be all right. She was almost sure of it.

Ruby shifted in the redwood chair she had brought into the sickroom. Dixie was dozing, something they took turns doing. It was so hard to stay awake. She tried to think of other things, tried not to listen to Hugo's labored breathing. Somewhere she'd heard the term
death rattle
, a sound that came from a dying person's mouth right before he took his last breath. She wondered what it would sound like. There was something different about Hugo's breathing now, but she didn't know what. She shifted again, her dress sticking to the plastic seat cushions. She had to go to the bathroom. She wanted a cigarette, too, and a cold drink.

“What's wrong?” Dixie said, jerking to wakefulness.

“Nothing. I have to go to the bathroom and I want something to drink. There's no change. Let's go downstairs to the kitchen, where it isn't so hot.”

Dixie nodded. She walked over to the bed, checked the IV, straightened the sheet, which didn't need straightening, and brushed a nonexistent wrinkle from the collar of her husband's pajama top. Satisfied that nothing had changed, she followed Ruby from the room.

It was cooler in the kitchen where a gentle breeze puffed through the window. It occurred to Ruby to wonder why neither she nor Dixie had installed air-conditioning in their houses. Just as they hadn't moved or remodeled. Did they try to keep things the same out of fear? Someday she was going to sit down and do nothing but think about it all.

“We should have gotten a nurse,” Ruby said, sipping from the soda bottle. “If you're half as tired as I am ...” She let the rest of what she was going to say hang in the still air.

“I like this time of day,” Dixie said quietly. “The day is over. Either you did well or you know that tomorrow you can do better. The sun is going down, the leaves on the trees rustle. It's a nice sound, trees rustling, don't you think, Ruby?”

Ruby turned on the oven again. She nodded. “Why are you whispering?” she whispered.

“I don't know.”

“Hugo is in a coma, he can't hear us,” Ruby continued to whisper. “Why
didn't
we get a nurse, Dixie? I'm so tired, I can't remember.”

“Because I'm stupid, that's why. I'm all mixed up. When I go on after Hugo's death, I want to know I, personally, did everything I could to make his last days comfortable. I didn't want some person who didn't even know him washing my husband. I signed up for until death do us part, and I'm still on the books. I guess it's stupid and foolish, because I couldn't have done all this without you. I'm sorry if I haven't thanked you.”

Ruby turned the oven on. She didn't know why. Maybe for the same reason she always flushed the toilet when things were bothering her. She turned it off again.

“We should eat something.”

“What?”

“Cereal, tomato soup, that's about all you have.”

Dixie shook her head. “Not for me.” She thought for a moment.

“I don't think Hugo will make it through the night. His breathing sounds different to me.”

“Are you going to call Hugo's family?”

Dixie brushed at a fly circling in front of her. “There's a hole in the kitchen screen. Isn't it amazing how a fly can find that tiny little hole and get through? No.”

Ruby turned on the oven. “Where's the fly swatter?”

“Under the sink.” Dixie turned the oven off.

“Have you given any thought to ... to ... you have to get his clothes ready, call the minister, go to the funeral home, all that ... stuff. Pick out a ... or else they do it ... die!” She screamed shrilly as she swatted at the fly, missing by a foot.

Dixie turned the oven on. Ruby turned it off. They looked at each other helplessly.

“Where are you going to ... wake him?” She dreaded the three-day ordeal looming ahead of her.

Dixie opened a second can of soda. She sat back down at the table. It was a long time before she replied.

“I'm not. I'm gonna nuke him,” she said, her eyes wild.

Ruby choked and sputtered, swallowing the smoke she'd been about to inhale. “What?”

“You know, cremate him. You get the ashes in a cup or something,” Dixie said, her lips barely moving as she talked.

“Or something? Then what? What are you going to do with the ... cup? Keep it on the mantel? My God,.when did you come up ... when did you decide this?”

“This morning. If there's a place, a grave, I won't be able to get on with my life. It will never be over if there's a place.”

Ruby felt weak. Cremation was something she'd never thought about. “The ashes ... the cup ... they'll be there ... in a place. They have rooms for ... stuff like that. I saw it in a movie once. A place is a place. How can that be different?”

“It isn't. That's why I'm not going to keep the ashes. I believe in ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

Ruby swayed dizzily before she reached down to turn the oven on. Her tongue refused to work. The bluebottle was in front of her. She reached up, caught it in both hands, walked to the screen door, and let it loose. She pinched off a corner of a paper napkin and stuffed it in the miniscule hole in the screen. She felt Dixie's eyes boring into her back.

“The only way there won't be a place, the only way I can end it is to ... you know that bridge on the way to Point Pleasant? You can walk across it. I'm going to dump ... pour the ashes into the water. The current will carry them away. Hugo will be ... out there somewhere, but there won't be a place where . . .” Her voice turned stubborn, unlike anything Ruby had ever heard.

Ruby worked her tongue around the inside of her mouth, trying to work up enough saliva so she could talk. “That's illegal! My God, kids fish there,” she said stupidly. “What if some kid's mother doesn't clean his fish well enough?”

“It's the only way.”

“The pine barrens, you could go there and ... and sprinkle ... dump, unload . . .”

“The river is the only answer. The river will wash him away.”

“But what if someone sees you, what if you get caught? Picture the headlines, Dixie. Picture the headlines!” Ruby said desperately.

“I'll do it at night, when it's dark. No one will ever know but us.”

Ruby knew when to give up. “All right, all right, but it's the dumbest, stupidest thing I ever heard of. I'm sorry I brought up the subject.”

“I'm not. I needed to say it out loud, to talk it through.”

The fly was back. How did it get in? Ruby reached for the fly swatter, taking a wild swing. She lost her balance when Dixie said, “I'd like it if you'd go with me when the time comes. You don't have to go on the bridge with me, just sort of stand at the end and warn me if ... if anyone is coming. Think about it, Ruby, you don't have to give me an answer right now.”

Aiding and abetting.
She nodded, too rattled to do anything else. No, no, she could never do it. Not even for Dixie.

When the new sun crept over the horizon, both women watched Hugo Sinclaire take his last tortured breath. Ruby cried; she didn't know why. Relief, she thought.

“I want you to go home, Ruby. I need to be alone with Hugo for a little while. It's going to be awful when ... when they take him away. I don't want you to see that. I have calls to make, things to do. Thanks for being here all these weeks. I couldn't have gotten through this without you. I'll call you later, I promise. There are some things you can't help me with, and this is one of them.”