Seasons of Her Life (62 page)

Irma giggled. “I
always
thought it was bullshit. Not the Bible itself, but all that ... that bullshit your father put us through. But now we're here and he's . . . done for.” She giggled again.

A strange, prickly feeling washed over Ruby. Something wasn't right.

“I can forgive you, Ruby. You were justified. I don't expect you to understand how it was with me, and I don't want to talk about it. Is it possible for us to go on from here?”

“What exactly does that mean, Mom? Twenty years is a very long time. I don't know you and you don't know me. You don't know my children. I can't slough that off. They should have had grandparents. Every child should have grandparents,” Ruby said in a choked voice.

“I can't change the past, Ruby. Today is a new day—for both of us. I would like us to have one or two days. I can try to be the mother you didn't have.”

There was such sadness in her mother's voice, Ruby almost cried. She wished she could feel something for the woman standing by the sink, but she didn't. Was it possible she'd never felt anything, even as a child? Or had she felt so deeply, she'd buried all her feelings and couldn't resurrect them now? For one crazy moment she wanted to say something smart and nasty, but she was instantly ashamed, though not ashamed enough to keep from blurting out, “My husband and I are separated and I'm having an affair with a married man.”

“Are you happy, Ruby?” Irma asked in a voice that sounded as if it hadn't been used for years.

“I don't think I know what the word
happy
means. I do think my inability to
really
feel something has a lot to do with you and Pop. I worried so much about ending up like you, I didn't let myself give one hundred percent. I blame you both for that.”

“And I'll take the blame,” Irma said softly. “I'll take
all
of the blame. Now, do you think we can have those two days, Ruby?”

“Sure, why not,” Ruby said tiredly.

“I'll change my dress and we'll go out to dinner. I've always wanted to go to this restaurant downtown called ...
Ruby Tuesday's.
It will be my treat. I believe there was money in your father's pockets. We'll use that.”

Ruby thought about Hugo Sinclaire. “Why are you having Pop embalmed? Why don't you fry him to a crisp?” she said bitterly.

Irma turned and walked over to Ruby. She cupped her face in both her work-worn hands. “Let it go, Ruby. It's done, he's gone, and that's the end of it.”

Now she understood what Dixie meant when she said she didn't want a place, a final place for Hugo to rest. She nodded miserably.

Irma returned in ten minutes, wearing a dress that was so outdated, Ruby cringed. She looked ethereal somehow, alive but not alive. I'm going nuts, Ruby thought.

“I learned how to drive,” Irma said proudly as she got behind the wheel of a Ford Galaxy that was so clean, it looked new.

“Is this Pop's car?” Irma nodded. Defiantly, Ruby lit a cigarette and wanted to clap her hands in glee when the cigarette ash dropped all over the seat and floor. She hated the car. Hated the fact that she was sitting in it, hated the fact that she was here for
his
funeral.

Irma was an expert driver, Ruby noticed, weaving in and out of traffic on A1-A.

With a luscious green fern dangling down her neck in the restaurant, Ruby leaned across the table. “How do you really feel now that you're free and alone? I'm not asking out of curiosity, I need to know.”

“I think I'll have one of those cigarettes, and I want a drink, too. A whiskey sour. A double,” she said matter-of-factly. “I feel afraid.”

Irma blew a mouthful of smoke in Ruby's direction. She leaned back and puffed contentedly. She looked ethereal again, kind of wispy, as though there were a veil covering her, a thin veil of gossamer. It was eerie. She didn't ever remember her mother looking like this. Maybe she was getting cataracts. She whipped open her purse, scrambling for her glasses, which, for the most part, she was too vain to wear. She perched them on the bridge of her nose. Her mother looked the same, though clearer somehow. The drink was at her lips and she was gulping it the way she drank lemonade. She wondered wildly if her mother was a secret drunk and smoker. And then for no good reason she could name, a word popped into Ruby's mind:
Alzheimer's.

“Do you know when Amber is due? The time, I mean.”

“I'm not even sure she's coming. You said she was. I called Opal because there was no answer on your phone. You said Opal isn't coming.”

“Maybe she'll change her mind at the last minute,” Ruby said lamely.

Irma continued to puff on her cigarette, which was almost down to the filter. She stubbed it out. She gulped the rest of her drink. Ruby hadn't done more than sip her glass of white wine. She slid it across the table. Irma drank it.

“We have plenty of room for all three of you. I put clean sheets on all the beds after they took your father away.”

“I'm sorry, Mom. I'm not staying anywhere that man lived. We passed a Howard Johnson's on the way. I'll stay there. You can drop me off on the way back. I'll rent a car and then call Nangi to see what time Amber is due in. I'll pick her up. You must be eager to see her.”

“No more eager than I was to see you.”

“You used to talk to Amber; you never talked to me. You never even said good-bye when I left.”

“In my heart I said good-bye. In my heart I cried. Please don't be cruel, Ruby.”

“Okay, I won't be cruel. What do you want from me, Mom?”

Irma leaned across the table. “Nothing, Ruby. All I ever wanted was to see my three little jewels again. I'm sorry you don't want to stay at the house. It is yours, after all. Your father didn't like that. He thought he could break you, but he couldn't. He was awful when you wouldn't hand over the deed. I'm glad you didn't give it to him.”

“You asked me to give it to him. You said it was all you really wanted.”

Irma attacked her cajun food with gusto, her eyes watering at the sharp, hot spices. “I lied,” Irma said matter-of-factly. “What will you do with the house now, Ruby?”

Ruby stopped eating. “Nothing. Is that what's bothering you? It's yours for as long as you want it. I'll send you money. If you want to move to a condo, we can do that, too, or you can come and live with me if you want. The offer I made will always be open.”

“When I found out you were Mrs. Sugar, I was so pleased, Ruby. Your father ... he wasn't happy. It disproved everything he ever said about you. I am so proud of your success. A mother is always proud of her children.”

Damn, she still wasn't feeling anything for the woman sitting across from her. She tried, she rubbed her chest, at the spot where she thought her heart was, hoping she could shake something loose, some feeling, some kind of emotion. It was just a person, a strange person sitting across from her. She had to try harder.

“I don't think I'll need your house long. I'll know in a few days. Will that be all right, Ruby? Goodness, that was good. I never ate anything like this before.”

Ruby stirred the mess on her plate. “Are all the arrangements made? Do you need me to do anything, Mom?”

“My goodness, no. Everything has been taken care of. I changed the sheets on the beds for you girls, did I tell you that?”

“Yes, Mom. Do you want dessert?”

“Chocolate Thunder Cake. Yes, I'll have dessert and coffee.”

Ruby watched her mother while she ate. “Did you ever love Pop?”

“In the beginning I did, then I hated him. Why do you ask?”

“Now that he's dead, do you still hate him?”

“Of course not. He's gone. There's nothing left to hate.” She finished the Chocolate Thunder, drank the last of her coffee. “How much do you think I should leave for a tip? It's been a very long time since I've eaten in a restaurant. Is it more than ten percent?”

“Leave fifteen,” Ruby said gently. She watched as her mother counted out the exact amount of money for the bill. She pocketed the rest. “This is the first time I've had money in my pocket for years and years,” she said cheerfully. Ruby swallowed past the lump in her throat.

In the car on the way to Howard Johnson's, Irma said, “Ruby, I don't want you fretting about me or the way you feel. I understand and I truly do not blame you. My goodness, here we are. Shall I call you tomorrow or will you call me? We should decide now so we don't get all mixed up. Would you like to come for breakfast?”

“I'll call you in the morning, Mom,” Ruby said in a strangled voice. Irma waved cheerfully as she drove away.

 

While Ruby was bawling her head off in the motel room, Irma parked the car along the sandy strip of beach on the A1-A. She sat watching the waves for a long time. “Just give me these two days, that's all I ask. I swear I'll never ask for another thing.” Her eyes grew puzzled. “I don't believe I ever asked You for anything. It was understood between us that You would look out for my little jewels. I turned them over to You. You did real good with Ruby. I'm pleased.”

A rush of young people ran past her, surfboards under their arms. She was aware of young, tanned, healthy bodies whooping and shouting to one another. She tilted her head to stare at the youngsters, wishing she were young again. Had she ever laughed like that? Had she ever looked like that? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember if her own children had ever looked like these laughing youngsters. How sad, she thought.

In a little while it would be dark. She fretted then that Ruby would think she was strange for having dinner at such an early hour. Ruby wasn't going to forgive her, she could see it in her eyes. She didn't blame her. She understood, but she felt sad that Ruby was trying so hard. She had to remember to tell her it wasn't important anymore. Or did she tell her that? She couldn't remember.

She'd never driven with the lights on. Never past six o'clock in the summer or past three-thirty in the winter. George wouldn't allow it. She wondered if she would have an accident, if the lights would confuse her as she drove up A1-A. If she stayed in the right-hand lane and watched the taillights of the car in front of her, she shouldn't have any problem. She wasn't stupid. George was stupid for thinking she was stupid.

Irma turned on the headlights, pleased that they cast such a bright glow. She would be fine. The cigarettes lying on the console caught her eye. She felt giddy when she pushed in the cigarette lighter. She puffed on the cigarette the way she'd seen Ruby do it. When she finished it, she lit another one. “George, I don't care what you think,” she muttered as she tooled along in the right lane, one arm resting on the door.

When Irma expertly drove the car into the garage, she made the decision to sit up all night and watch television, all the shows George said were sinful. And for breakfast . . . well, she simply wasn't going to make breakfast. Maybe she'd have a beer ... and a cigarette. George's beer.

Delighted with her decisions, Irma tripped into the house and headed straight for the refrigerator. She popped a bottle of beer, made a face as she swigged. She'd never had beer before. “So there, George,” she said, holding the bottle aloft. “So there.”

 

Ruby hated the orange and brown decor of her room. Motel rooms were so impersonal, just like the house her parents lived in. In five minutes she had her bag unpacked and her toilet articles on the vanity in the bathroom. She'd thrown two dresses into her suitcase, a black jersey with a boat neckline and a vibrant red silk, sleeveless dress with a mandarin collar. At the last second she'd tossed in a black lace scarf for her head. She shook it out and hung it over the shower rack so the wrinkles would fall out.

There was nothing else to do except turn on the television and call her children, something she should have done before she left Rumson.

She placed a call to Martha first, explained where she was and why. She waited a long moment for Martha's reaction.

“I can take a seven
A.M.
flight out of Philadelphia, Mom. Don't worry about picking me up. I can take a taxi if you give me the address.”

Ruby felt her eyes burn. How awful it was that her children didn't have their grandparents' address. It was her fault, all of it. She rattled it off along with the phone number.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“I'm fine. It's a bit of a shock. I guess I thought your grandfather would live forever. The truth is, I don't feel anything one way or the other. I'm just angry with myself that I don't feel anything. I want to.”

“I don't understand any of this. Maybe someday you'll take the time and explain it to me, adult to adult,” Martha said, a hard edge to her voice.

“Someday, Martha. I'll see you in the morning. I love you.”

Her call to Andy left her feeling more depressed. His response was much like Martha's.

“I'll take the first plane. Don't worry, I can find my way if you give me the address.”

Ruby's next call was to room service to ask for two gin and tonics. A glow might help her to think clearly. If she managed to get a real buzz on, she might be able to relax enough to figure out what was wrong with her.

The fourth call was to Saipan. Calvin answered the phone. How like Calvin to arrive after she had left. Ruby's heart thumped at the sound of his voice. His voice was cool and strained. She wondered if she should apologize for refusing his last series of collect calls. In the scheme of things, she decided it really didn't matter much.