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And her mothers answer: You, of all people . . . you should have.
But what could her mother have been running away from? And what had kept her away?
The package arrived from Seattle in the late afternoon, while her mother was taking a nap. Ruby knew what it was. She debated with herself for a few moments after all, shed purposely chosen never to read her mothers newspaper columns-but the Cache article changed things. Now, Ruby needed to know what “Nora Knows Best” had been about.
Quietly, she opened the box and pulled out a manila envelope marked BEST OF. In the living room, she plopped onto the sofa, tucked her feet up underneath her, and withdrew the pile of clippings. The one on top was dated December 1989, from the Anacortes Bee.
Dear Nora:
Do you have any tips for getting red wine out of white silk? At my sisters wedding, I got a little drunk and spilled a glassful on her gown. Now shes not
talking to me, and I feel just awful about it.
Wedding Dress Blues.
Noras answer was short and sweet.
Dear Wedding Dress Blues:
Only your dry cleaner can get the stain out. If it cant be done, you must offer to replace the gown. Because you were drunk, even a little, this is more than an ordinary accident, and your sister deserves a perfect reminder of her special day, a dress she can pass down to her daughter. It may take you a while to save the money, but in the end, youll feel better. Nothing is more important than family. Im sure you know that; its what made you write to me. Its so easy to do the wrong thing in life, dont you think? When we see a clear road to being a better person, we ought to take it.
As Ruby continued to read the columns, she noticed that her mothers mail changed gradually from household-hint questions to earnest, heartfelt questions about life. Ruby had to admit that her mother was good at this. Her answers were concise, wise, and compassionate.
Ruby began to hear her mother in the column. Not the sophisticated, greedy, selfish Nora Bridge, but her mother, the woman whod told Ruby to wear her coat, or brush her teeth, or clean her room.
As she read a column about a sixteen-year-old girl who was having a problem with drugs, Ruby remembered a time from her own life. . .
It had been in that terrible year that Ruby had almost “gone bad. ” Shed been fourteen, and Lopez Island-and her own family-had seemed hopelessly small and uncool. For a time, skipping school and smoking pot had offered Ruby a better way. Shed even turned away from Dean.
Dad had gone ballistic when Ruby got suspended school for smoking, but not Nora.
Her mother had picked Ruby up from the principals office and driven her to the state park at the tip of the island. Shed dragged Ruby down to the secluded patch of beach that overlooked Haro Strait and the distant glitter of downtown Victoria. It had been exactly three in the afternoon, and the gray whales had been migrating past them in a spouting, splashing row. Nora had been wearing her good dress, the one she saved for parent-teacher conferences, but she had plopped down cross-legged on the sand.
Ruby had stood there, waiting to be bawled out, her chin stuck out, her arms crossed.
Instead, Nora had reached into her pocket and pulled out the joint that had been found in Rubys locker. Amazingly, she had put it in her mouth and lit up, taking a deep toke, then she had held it out to Ruby.
Stunned, Ruby had sat down by her mother and taken the joint. Theyd smoked the whole damn thing together, and all the while, neither of them had spoken.
Gradually, night had fallen; across the water, the sparkling white city lights had come on.
Her mother had chosen that minute to say what shed come to say. “Do you notice anything different about Victoria?”
Ruby had found it difficult to focus. “It looks farther away,” she had said, giggling.
“It is farther away. Thats the thing about drugs. When you use them, everything you want in life is farther away. ” Nora had turned to her. “How cool is it to do something that anyone with a match can do? Cool is becoming an astronaut . . . or a comedian. . . or a scientist who cures cancer. Lopez Island is exactly what you think it is--a tiny blip on a map. But the world is out there, Ruby, even if you havent seen it. Dont throw your chances away. We dont get as many of them as we need. Right now you can go anywhere, be anyone, do anything. You can become so damned famous that theyll have a parade for you when you come home for your high-school reunion . . . or you can keep screwing up and failing your classes and you can snip away the ends of your choices until finally you end up with that crowd who hangs out at Zekes Diner, smoking cigarettes and talking about high-school football games that ended twenty years ago. ” She had stood up and brushed off her dress, then looked down at Ruby. “Its your choice. Your life. Im your mother, not your warden. ”
Ruby remembered that shed been shaking as shed stood up. Thats how deeply her mothers words had reached. Very softly, shed said, “I love you, Mom. ”
That was Rubys last specific memory of saying those words to her mother . . .
She turned her attention back to the columns. She noticed that this last set was paper-clipped together. The very first sentence pulled her in.
Dear Nora:
Do you ever feel so alone in the world that everything normal looks out of focus? Its as if you’re the only black-and-white human being in a technicolor city.
I have married the wrong woman. I knew it when the day came to walk down the aisle. I knew when I lifted the veil and looked down into her eyes. But sometimes you do the right thing for the wrong reasons, and you pray that love will grow.
