Ruby's Slippers (22 page)

“I don’t wear lipstick.”

“Which is exactly why you should come with me.” She walks around the table and grabs my arm.

For this confrontation I would not have chosen a restroom. Especially one with curtains that barely cover the stalls. But Abby doesn’t seem to care about the amenities or lack thereof. She concentrates on reapplying a heavy dose of gloss on her already glossy lips.

“Does anyone have TP out there?” a voice calls from one of the stalls.

“Not even paper towels,” I say, looking around at the dingy tiled walls with specks of I-don’t-know-what on them and the one empty stainless steel paper towel dispenser. “I can go—”

Abby grabs my arm, glares at me. “You’re not going anywhere. Not till we talk this out.” Then over her shoulder she hollers, “Don’t you have tissues, lady?”

“Oh, maybe I do.” There’s a
thump
—perhaps elbow against wall, or maybe bag and floor—followed by rustling.

I ease my elbow away from Abby’s grip. We look at each other for a moment, a standoff, and I remember the staring contests we had when we were in elementary school. I could usually make Abby laugh, but she doesn’t seem to be in a good humor today.

For lack of something better to do, I turn on the faucet. Cold water shoots out of the roughened spout. Abby yanks her purse back. I punch the soap dispenser only to discover there isn’t any. I reach past my sister, bumping her accidentally, but the other is empty as well.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks.

“Trying to get soap.”

“That’s not what I meant. And you know it.”

Looking around and realizing there isn’t anything to dry my hands on, not even one of those loud blowers that might block out my sister’s accusatory tone, I give my hands a shake.

Abby squeals. “Do you mind?’

“Are you scared of a little water?” I ask. “Afraid you’re going to melt?”

For a long moment she’s silent, as if searching for a clever comeback. Then she takes a threatening step toward me— threatening in the sense that anger burns in her eyes like I’ve never seen. “Listen to me, big sister. I know exactly what you’re trying to do out there.”

“Out where? In Seattle?”

“With that man. You’ve got the hots for him. And whereas I’m thrilled to see you actually interested in someone, let me give you a little advice.” Her fingers pinch my arm, and I jerk away from her.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s a friend! I just don’t want you getting your claws into him, destroying him like you have every other man in your life.”

Her features relax. She leans back, crossing her arms over (actually under) her enhanced chest. “So that’s what this is about. It always comes back to Craig, doesn’t it? And that night. You know, Dottie, it’s been almost twenty years. Don’t you think it’s time you got over it? Got over Craig? He is, after all, married with a bazillion kids.
He
doesn’t seem to be mad at me, so why should you be?”

“It’s not about
that
night, Abby. It’s about all the men whose lives you’ve turned upside down and inside out, if not physically then emotionally.”

She laughs and the sound echoes off the beige tiles. Then a quiet descends. It’s too quiet. Over Abby’s shoulder I see a brown eye peeking out of the curtained stall.

“You think Craig would have ever made a living as a baseball player?” Abby asks. “No way! He’s done just fine with that little office of his, settling wills and divorces and whatever else he does.” Her eyes narrow. “Or is it that you think he would have been happier with a different wife? With you?”

I have no answer for her. Heat burns its way from my chest to my face. “Look, that lady is waiting for our fight to be over so she can get out of here.” I motion toward the eye that suddenly disappears behind the curtain.

Abby waves her hand as if to shoo away a fly. “Pay no attention to her.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “Really. Come on out.”

There’s a slight awkward pause, then the toilet flushes and the curtain jerks open. An elderly lady shuffles out, holding her purse over her stomach. She looks down at the floor as she passes us.

“There’s no soap,” I warn her.

But she doesn’t stop. She jerks open the door and hustles out of the restroom as quickly as I’d like to.

“Admit it,” Abby says. “You think I stole him from you, don’t you? And now that hot guy out—”

“No, I don’t think you stole Craig from me. But—”

“You were in love with him. Admit it!”

I swallow back all the words I’ve wanted to say all these years and replace them with, “I cared about him, of course. We were best friends. We still are friends. But you—”

“Do you want to know about that night?” she asks, looking smug and overconfident with her chin tilted at a jaunty angle. “You’ve wanted to blame me all these years. But the fact is, Craig was hot for me. He wanted me. He didn’t want to go to the dance; he wanted to go find a motel. Does that shock you?”

Yes. But I don’t admit it.

She laughs. “That’s what you’ve wanted to believe, isn’t it?”

Ashamed, I give a quick nod.

“Well, that’s
not
what happened. Craig wanted to ask me about my plans for leaving our little farming community.”

I feel a part of me go numb. I don’t want to hear how Craig wanted to go away with her, wanted her.

“He wanted to leave Maize. To find a new, different kind of life.”

“With you?”

“He didn’t care about me any more than he cared about Maize. He admired me because I was forthright in my plans, my eagerness to move on.”

“So why didn’t
he
tell me this?”

“Because you were determined to stay right where you
were. You always liked the status quo. You clung to it. He didn’t think you’d understand.”

I probably wouldn’t have understood. Even when Craig mentioned his desire to write, I didn’t understand his need to stretch beyond our little world of corn and community.

“We actually went to the library that night of prom and looked at places we might go. We dreamed about our different futures. We wanted a different kind of life than our parents had. He felt hemmed in by his father’s law practice, by his father’s expectations.” She shrugs as if to herself. “When we left the library … that’s when we had the accident. Or maybe it was fate. Who knows? But everyone wanted to believe the worst. They wanted to believe we’d gone to that motel. But rumors never bothered me. Still, it’s not a bum leg that’s crippled Craig. It’s fear. Same as you, Dottie.”

My heart thumps hard against my breastbone. I can’t find an answer, a comeback, anything to say.

“I was afraid too, Dottie. I’m not saying I never made mistakes.”

This admission surprises me.

“When the tornado happened,” she leans a hip on the counter, “I had to make some difficult decisions. There was a lot to do. I was at the hospital and at the farm. It wasn’t easy. I had a lot of responsibilities. Things I wasn’t used to doing. You were always the capable one, the one Momma leaned on. Suddenly I was in charge. And I was scared. Scared I’d screw it up. I wanted to do the right thing.

“But things were expensive, Dottie. I couldn’t fly back and forth to Kansas to check on you, so I had you moved to California. Even though I wanted to save the farm for you, I couldn’t. We have to sell. We need the money. Insurance covers only so much.”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t realize—”

“Listen, that’s not what I’m getting at. What I’m trying to say—and I’m not doing a very good job of it—is I found out that I was more capable than I ever imagined. But the situation put pressure on my relationship with Trey. At first, I wanted to let him fix everything for me. But he didn’t understand why I wanted to help you so much. He didn’t like me being gone. It made me realize the sacrifices you made for so many years.”

“Oh, Abby, I’m sorry about Trey. That you two broke up.”

She shrugs. “It’s good, I suppose. He was too self-absorbed. And I realized I wasn’t really looking for a husband.”

“You weren’t?”

“No. I’ve been searching for my dad all these years. I hate to admit that. It sounds so childish. But that’s why I went for older guys, for dominant, controlling men. Which is ultimately why all my relationships broke up. I wasn’t a girl; I was a woman. And that’s not what they wanted either.”

“You’ve learned a lot through all these months.”

“Isn’t it about time?”

I step toward the door. “Thanks for tell—”

“Now it’s your turn, Dottie. Is this how you’re going to live the rest of your life? Afraid? Did you stay in that little rundown house hoping Daddy would come home one day? Is that what kept you there? Is that why you can’t admit you loved Craig? That you love that guy out there?”

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t. Maybe. Maybe you’re right. Does that make you feel better?”

“Of course not. I want to see you happy, Dottie. I want to see you free from all of that. But you’re clinging to it. You are. You’re racing even now to try to buy back the farm at
auction. But you want to know the truth? The truth is, that tornado was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to you. It set you free from all of that. Daddy coming home or Craig turning to you isn’t going to set you free. Maybe the truth finally will.”

And the truth will set you free.
A chill ripples over me and I wrap my arms across my stomach, trying to hold myself together when I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams.

“If that stud out there is really the guy you want,” Abby wraps an arm around my waist, “then go for it, Dottie. You’re lovable. And beautiful.” She embraces me with both arms.

We cling to each other in that restroom, this time with nothing standing between us.

* * *

I LAY ON my side in the dark of the hotel room. Abby has called a dozen times since we left the restaurant with questions about our father. What does he look like? Where does he live? A house? Apartment? How do I explain his mansion of a house? Will Abby’s eyes gleam with greed or resentment? How do I explain that he didn’t even let me in? Will he invite us in this time? Or just Abby? What if he turns us both away?

A crazy mix of emotions swirls inside me. I want to protect Abby. It’s an old instinct. And yet I fear her too. It’s not her fault, this jealousy I feel. I want this to work out, more for her sake than mine.

“Does he have another family?” she asks.

My fingers curl around the end of the phone, gripping the plastic until all feeling is pressed away. I don’t want to consider the possibility. What if he had more kids? What if
we have half sisters and brothers? What if he doted on them the way he ignored us? The endless questions torture me.

Trying not to wake Sophia, who lies on her side sleeping in the other bed, I whisper, “I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“No.” Fear measures my words.

“How long did you two talk? Tell me everything he said.”

“It wasn’t for long. You’ll meet him tomorrow. Now go to sleep or you’ll have bags under your eyes.”

She sighs deeply on her end of the line. I can hear her shifting around, the rustle of sheets, the squeak of a headboard. “I can’t sleep. I’m too excited.”

It feels like we’re little girls again, on Christmas Eve long ago, curled up in the same bed, our cold toes bumping against each other. For the first time in years I feel close to her, and I don’t want to lose that. She needs me again. And I know now I need her too.

“It’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, uncertainty in her voice.

“We have each other now, right?”

“Yes.” A smile stretches out her answer.

“Try your best to sleep.” My eyelids grow heavy. “Good night, Abby. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I hang up the phone. Guilt twists inside me. Maybe I should have told her more.

A banging on the hotel door jars me, and Otto starts barking. “Who could that be?”

Sophia rolls over. “Sounds like my son, but you better check first. What with all the strange calls we’ve had lately, you just never know.”

Sure enough, when I open the door, the latch keeping anyone from pushing into the room, I see Leo standing there. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Otto need walking?”

I glance back at the bed where he’s standing on the edge, wagging his tail. “I suppose.”

“Come on then.”

I slide on my shoes and tell Sophia, “I’ll be quiet coming in.”

“Have a good time.” Her smile tells me she likes the idea of us walking together.

“I won’t be gone long.”

Together Leo and I walk around the periphery of the hotel while Otto explores every bush and tree. Leo is silent. I feel nervous, glancing over my shoulder when a car drives past. “So,” I say, needing to fill the space between us with something other than my nerves, “how’d you like my sister?”

He chuckles, and I regret my choice of topic. I don’t want to hear how pretty she is or how much fun. Not from Leo anyway. “She’s a piece of work.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” he rubs his jaw with his thumb, “it’s hard to see you two as sisters. Although there is a bit of rivalry there.”

I bristle against his words. “What do you mean?”

His gaze remains on Otto, who zigs in and out of a line of bushes, but Leo’s hand snags my elbow. He stops and turns me to face him. “Look, Dottie, I know what was going on, and I have to say, I’m flattered at the attention.”

I’m grateful for the darkness as my face flares red hot. “You don’t—”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

A weight of dread falls over me. I can hear blood pumping hot and furious through my veins, making my ears feel as if they’re swelling. I cross my arms over my chest, preparing
to hear the worst. But inside, in a tiny place in my head, I whisper a prayer.
Please, God, don’t let him rebuff me.
Then I get the brilliant idea that I should do it first. Before he can. At least to save myself some humiliation. I laugh out loud, and it comes out coarse. “Oh, please. Don’t worry. I’m not after you, Leo. Sure, we kissed. But—”

He pulls me against his chest. “But what?”

I swallow hard, find myself staring at his mouth, unable to drag my gaze away. “But …” My voice has shrunk. “I, uh …”

“Did you forget what it was like?”