Seasons of Her Life (57 page)

Ruby stopped in the bathroom. She flushed the toilet.

 

Two days later, on August 25, Mrs. Sugar's corporate doors were closed for the first time in the company's history. The reason: a memorial service for Hugo Sinclaire.

Four days after the memorial service, on a sticky, unbearably hot day, Dixie called Ruby. “I picked it up today. Tonight is the night. I just have to transfer the ... the contents into something less visible. I thought a mayonnaise jar would be good. What do you think?”

“Why the hell not?” Ruby snapped to cover the horror she felt. “A mayonnaise jar is as good as anything else. What are you going to do with the ... the um and the jar ... after?” God, oh, God, she wasn't having this conversation.

“Toss it in the first Dumpster I come to on the way home. Do you think it's gonna rain?”

“Will that stop you?” Ruby shrilled, her stomach curling into a knot.

“No. Who's going to drive? You are coming with me, right?”

Ruby's fuddled brain struggled to come up with an answer. If she agreed and Dixie drove, that meant she would have to hold the remains. She shivered. “I'll drive. What time do you want me to pick you up?” She wasn't saying all this, wasn't agreeing, it was a nightmare, and she'd wake up as soon as she hung up the phone.

She wished she'd gone to the office, but she hadn't been back since Hugo's death. Dixie hadn't either. She did call once a day, though, to see if anything out of the ordinary was going on. She always felt disgruntled when she was told everything was under control.

She couldn't stand around there sucking her thumb like some ninny. What she needed to do was something physical that required the use of both arms, both feet, and all of her attention. She opted for the garden and her flower beds.

Pruning shears, trowel, shovel, spade, and watering can in hand, she marched to the yard and the borders that lined the house. She looked at everything with a critical eye and could find no fault with any of the flower beds, rosebushes, or evergreens. Obviously, the money she paid her gardener was not wasted. “Shit,” she muttered, dumping her tools on the ground. Damn, she'd come out here to do something and she was damn well going to do it. Within ten minutes she hacked her rosebushes to a stub, whacked six spreading yews to nothing, and decapitated two white birch trees. She tramped through a bed that was supposed to resemble an English flower garden. Obviously, her talents weren't needed in the garden.

Inside the house she decided to scrub the kitchen floor with a brush. She was about to lather the floor, when she remembered the time she'd thrown the bucket of scrub water at Andrew when he returned from Vietnam. “Oh, shit,” she cried, scrambling to her feet.

Five minutes later she was in her car, heading for the shopping mall, where she bought forty-one towels, two shower curtains, and a purple plastic wastebasket. When she returned home she dumped the bags in the garbage. The linen closet couldn't hold one towel more, and she had a tub enclosure with no need of shower curtains. She kicked the bag with the purple trash basket.

She was sweating profusely when she popped her first bottle of beer, which she kept for Andy's visit. She stuck two more bottles under her arm along with the bottle opener. She drank until all three bottles were empty, giving her a delightful buzz. She dozed in the shade of the sycamore in the backyard. She woke an hour later to the distant toll of thunder. A streak of lightning slashed across the sky.
Thank God, now maybe it will cool off
. Tomorrow, by God, she was going to call for central air-conditioning.

Ruby left the beer bottles on the grass and stomped into the house, muttering over and over, “I don't want to do this, I can't do this. I don't know why I agreed. I understand, I really understand what Dixie is going through. There just has to be a better way, and I don't know what it is.” She shivered violently. “Anything, I'll do anything, but I can't do this.”

 

At eight-thirty Ruby climbed out of her sports car. She was so jittery she could barely make her legs function. She rapped on the screen door, something she never did, and called Dixie's name. For some reason she didn't want to go into Dixie's house; she didn't want to be here in the carport, either. She didn't want to be anywhere near Hugo Sinclaire, and yet she was going to be driving with him in her car. She shuddered, hating the thought. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Dixie appeared at the door, a two-pound sky-blue Mrs. Sugar bag in her hand. Ruby knew what was inside. “For God's sake, couldn't . . . you have put the jar in something else?” Her voice quivered. Her arms felt weak as she held the screen door for Dixie. I'm not doing this. I'm not standing here. This is someone else. This is all a bad dream and I'm going to wake up any second now.

“It's a throwaway bag. I left my briefcase at the office. I haven't done any shopping lately, and didn't have a grocery bag. Hugo's favorite color was blue. It seemed ... fitting,” Dixie said tightly.

“It's going to rain ... soon,” Ruby said, sliding into the driver's seat. She tried not to look at the shiny blue bag in Dixie's lap as she backed the car out of the driveway.

“We should be back here in a hour. I practiced ... what I did was fill the jar with sugar and counted the minutes ... seconds really, while I poured it down the drain.” Her voice was still tight and strained. Ruby clenched her teeth.

“One more time, Dix: this is not a good idea. You should have rented a boat and ... you know. God, what if ... Listen, why don't you put him in the trunk, I'm having a real hard time with this, in case you haven't noticed,” Ruby said hoarsely.

“I will not involve you, Ruby. All you're going to do is be the lookout. When you give the signal that traffic is ... is . . . I'll do it.

“I stapled the bag,” Dixie said quietly.

“That's real good, Dixie, now he can't get out. What difference does it make if you stapled the bag or not?” Ruby fretted.

“I thought it would make you feel better. Let's talk about something else. Are you ready to go to Saipan? Have you heard from Calvin? Did you get all new clothes? Are you planning on staying at a hotel or with your sister?”

“I wish I were there right now. I wish I were anywhere but here. Calvin called last night. He says he can hardly wait to make the trip. We're going to meet in San Francisco, spend a few days there, then go on to Hawaii and three days of ... you know, and then on to Saipan. I'll be staying at a hotel. Calvin will have his own room. Amber pretty much told me not to count on staying with her because she won't be a party to an illicit relationship. One of these days I'm going to belt her right between the eyes,” Ruby said in a brittle, shaking voice.

“Are you going to see Andrew?”

“No. Well, maybe. I might call him from the airport when I'm leaving. I'll have to play that one by ear.”

Overhead, a low rumble of thunder could be heard. Ruby blinked as the sky temporarily lit up and then darkened. Ruby hated storms because they reminded her of the night she'd given birth to Martha all alone. A second streak of lightning slid across the sky, bathing the road in a bright light. Ruby shivered in the warm car.

“There's absolutely no breeze,” Dixie complained. “I've never seen humidity like we've had the past few days. I hope the rain cools things down. I think it will, don't you?” Dixie babbled.

Ruby slowed the car. “We're approaching the bridge. This is your show, Dixie, what do you want me to do?” Ruby whispered. She was insane, out of her mind for coming along. It was harder and harder to breathe.

“Find a side street and park. We'll walk to the bridge. Listen, I've been thinking. If you just stand there at the end of the bridge, you're going to look suspicious. If a patrol car comes along, it will stop sure as anything. They'll want to know why you're standing there. You know what the shore police are like. Maybe you should stay in the car,” Dixie said wistfully.

“And get picked up for loitering! Yes, I know what the shore police are like. We look like criminals, I feel like one, and it will show. We can still ... change our minds,” Ruby said desperately.

“Does that mean you're coming?” Dixie asked.

“Move,” Ruby snapped as she withdrew the key from the ignition. “Let's get this over with.” My God, she really was going to ... help.

“I didn't think there would be much traffic at this time of night, especially in the middle of the week,” Dixie whimpered. Cars whooshed past them, one after the other, as the women approached the bridge.

Dixie squared her shoulders. It was right what she was doing. She took first one hesitant step and then another. She looked over her shoulder at Ruby, whose eyes were on the oncoming traffic. In the bright headlights she could see the sheen of perspiration on her friend's face and neck. Ruby was to whistle when there was a break in traffic. Fifteen seconds, that's all it took to pour the sugar down the drain. Fifteen seconds and Hugo was history. She ripped the bag, pricking her fingers on one of the staples. She tried to appear nonchalant as she leaned against the rail, the shiny blue bag in front of her. Cars continued over the bridge, bathing her in the yellow glow of the headlights. She could feel herself start to tremble. In a few minutes she would be free and Hugo would cease to exist. Just a few more minutes. She risked a glance over her shoulder and she saw Ruby walking slowly toward her. Once again she squared her shoulders.

The jar was in her hands when Ruby whistled. She twisted and twisted, but the lid wouldn't yield. She tried again. Ruby's voice thundered in her ears, but she knew it was no more than a whisper. “Do it!”

“I can't get the lid off. It's the jar ring. The suction is too tight!” Dixie wailed.

Ruby was alongside Dixie now, her eyes on the traffic approaching the bridge. “You put a jar ring on there!” she said, incredulous. “For God's sake, why?”

“So he ... so it would be tight and not ... I didn't want it to spill out. Here, you try it,” Dixie said, passing the jar to Ruby.

Ruby backed up a step. She didn't mean to reach for the jar, didn't mean to try to unscrew it, but she did. She felt the pressure seal give and at the same moment she thrust the jar back at Dixie. Her eyes on the traffic, she whispered hoarsely, “Start to walk, there's more traffic. We've been standing here too long already.”

They were halfway across the bridge before another break in traffic occurred. “There's a car coming quite a way back. Do it now,” Ruby ordered. “For God's sake, hurry up!” she said, her voice filled with panic.

“I can't,” Dixie whimpered. “I want to do it, I need to do it, but I . . .”

“Then let's go home,” Ruby said, backing away from the railing.

“I'll do it, I'll do it, just wait a minute.”

Ruby turned her eyes on the car approaching the bridge. In her panic she misjudged the distance of the RV, which was pulling a pop-up trailer and using only its running lights. She saw it all in slow motion: Dixie removing the lid, the RV rushing closer and closer and creating a gust of wind. Her jaw dropped open in disbelief as the RV rushed past just as Dixie upended the jar she was holding. She sucked in her breath in a loud gasp, ready to yell “Run,” when Hugo Sinclaire's ashes swirled upward in a swoosh of air caused by the RV. The ashes rained over her.

Ruby shrieked, her hands moving in a frenzy as she batted and swatted her face and arms. She lost control completely as she fought with Hugo's remains on her damp, perspiring skin. “Get him off me, damn you, Dixie, get him off me!” she shrilled. “Oh, God, oh, God, he's in my hair, my nose, I swallowed him! Did you hear me? Do something! Help me!” she continued to shriek as she ran off the bridge. Dixie ran behind her, crying and sobbing.

“You said to do it. You were supposed to be watching the cars. You said to do it!” Dixie bleated as she followed her friend off the bridge and down the embankment to the river's edge. She watched in horror as Ruby lost her footing and slid all the way down, rolling over and over, screaming all the while. She followed carefully, but she, too, lost her footing and slid the way Ruby had, all the way to the bottom. She watched as Ruby rolled into the river. For a moment her shrieks were silenced but started again the moment her head appeared above the water. “He's in my eyeballs, I can feel it! Don't come near me. I'll kill you, I swear to God, I'll kill you!” Screaming, she dove into the water again and again.

A long time later Ruby dragged herself to the water's edge and crabbed her way to dry land. She lay exhausted, her breathing harsh and irregular.

“I didn't force you to come with me,” Dixie bleated. “I wanted you to and I did ask you, but I didn't force you. You were supposed to be watching the lights. You said do it and I did it. It's not my fault the RV was using running lights. You were watching,” she accused her friend.