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“Jesus, Rube, Ive been trying this number endlessly. Hows life in the outback?”
It was Val. She could hear his exhalation of cigarette smoke into the receiver. “Its Summer Island, Val, not Siberia. And things are fine. ”
“I thought you might need to be airlifted out. ”
Ruby laughed. “No, just keep that alibi handy in case I need it. ”
“Hows the article coming?”
“Okay, I think. Maybe even good. ”
"Excellent news. I talked to Joan this morning.
Things are really heating up on this story. The press is crucifying your mother. "
Ruby was caught off guard by her reaction to that. It made her mad. “She doesnt care. Shes walking away from her career. Quitting. ”
“No shit?”
“Amazing, huh? Anyway, Im working hard. ”
“Joanll be glad to hear that. Remember, youre booked on Sarah Purcell for next week. See you then, babe. ”
Babe. Ruby couldnt help rolling her eyes.
Hed never called her that before; it must be a term reserved for clients who actually made him money. “Okay, Val. Talk to you soon. ”
After she hung up, she retrieved her paper and pen, then went back out onto the balcony and sat in the oversize chair her grandfather had made by hand. She forced herself to stop thinking about Eric. For now, she needed to work on the article.
She looked down at her yellow pad, then slowly picked up her pen and began to write.
I have spent most of my adult life pretending I was motherless. At first, it took effort. When a memory of my mother came to me, I ruthlessly squelched it and forced other images into my mind--a slamming door; the sound of tires sputtering through gravel; my father, sitting on the edge of his bed, weeping into his hands.
In time, I taught myself to forget, and in that state of suspended amnesia, things were easy. Time moved on.
But last night, my mother and I watched some old home movies. There, in a darkened living room, the doors Id tried to keep closed slowly opened.
Now I am left with a disturbing and disorienting question: In forgetting my mother, how much have I forgotten about myself?
It seems I dont know either one of us. My mother tells me now that she is going to walk away from her career. I dont know what to make of that. She traded our family for fame and fortune; how could it mean so little to her?
Ruby set the pen and pad down on the rusty, frosted glass table beside her chair, unable to think of anything to add.
She couldnt forget her mothers face when shed said, Ill just fade away.
Her mother had looked . . . broken, resigned, and more than a little afraid. Just like another time.
Im leaving. Who wants to come with me?
For eleven years, Ruby had remembered only the words, the harsh, ugly sound of them in the silence of that morning.
Now, she remembered the rest.
Her mothers eyes had been filled with that same agonizing pain, and when she spoke, her voice had been strained. . . not her voice at all.
Then, Ruby had heard nothing beyond the good bye. Shed understood that her mother was leaving . . . but what if Nora had been running away?
I never saw you as a quitter, Ruby had said today.
