Ain't No Sunshine (13 page)

Ruthie got into Bruce's car and they drove off. I don't know why, but I followed them.

They ended up at his house. I watched as he opened her car door and then led her to front door of his house. Once inside, he turned on some music and they started slow dancing in his living room.

I was so jealous of him.  I wanted to be the one dancing with her.  They started kissing and I had to hold myself back.  I wanted to go in there and get him away from her.  But that wasn't my job.  She had chosen to go out with him and she obviously liked him. 

He didn't kiss her the way I did. He didn't gently savor every soft curve of her lips. His kisses were hard and crude. He was increasingly rougher with her.  It almost looked like he was trying to force her to go further.  Ruthie must have gotten the same impression because she pulled away from him.  It looked like she was trying to explain something to him, like she didn't want to kiss anymore, but he didn't listen to her and started to kiss her again.  This time when she pulled away he slapped her across the face.  I jumped out of my truck as fast as I could and ran to the house.  The door was locked.  I could hear Ruthie screaming inside, but I couldn't get in.  Finally, I punched through the glass in the door and unlocked it from the inside.  By the time I reached the living room, Bruce had ripped her shirt open and was lying on top of her, trying to remove her panties.  I pulled him off of her and threw him across the room.

"Stephen?  What the --"
  I
punched him in the face.  He staggered back,
then
touched his mouth as if he couldn't believe he was bleeding.

"Come on, Stephen.  You had your chance with her; now it's time to share."  I lost control.  I tackled him and we crashed into his coffee table.  I don't know how many times I hit him. He went unconscious, but I just kept beating him. In my mind, his face turned into my father's. I could have killed him.  I thought I was going to, but I heard Ruthie pleading with me to stop.

I turned around and she was quivering in the corner, clutching her ripped blouse to her chest.  I went over to pick her up and she jerked away from me.  At first, she wouldn't let me touch her.

"Ruthie, it's okay. I'm not
gonna
hurt you."  I kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.  She stared into my eyes for a moment as if she was trying to remember who I was.  Finally, she put her arms around my neck and I carried her to my truck. 

She fell asleep in my lap on the way to her house. When we got there, I picked her up and carried her to her bed. Tears burned my eyes as I thought of the things we had done in that very bed...and how much I still wanted to do those things.

I laid her in the bed and turned to leave. I had to get out of there as soon as possible. I didn't know if I could resist the burning desire I had for her.

"Stephen," she called softly, just as I reached to door to the hallway.

I let my head fall against the frame. "Yes?"

"Don't leave me alone. I can't be alone tonight."

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

"Stephen, please."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I tried to push every romantic or sexual thought out of my mind. Over and over I repeated the phrase, “She's my sister.”

"Okay," I
said,
when I felt like I had control.

I went over to the bed, covered her with the blanket and then sat down rigidly. She reached for me. "Hold me, Stephen."

I didn't want to, but how could I deny her comfort after what she'd been through tonight?

I inched closer, then lifted her and held her against my chest. Our breathing synced; our chests rose and fell in unison. We stayed like that for so long that I thought she'd fallen asleep. But I was wrong.

"I love you, Stephen," she said into my chest.

I didn't respond.

"And not like a sister loves her brother. I love you like a woman loves her man. I love you with the overwhelming, blinding passion of a thousand suns."

Why was she telling me this?

"Don't do this, Ruthie. Don't make this any harder than it already is. We can't be together."

"Why not?"
She sat up and looked at me. "This isn't our fault. We didn't choose this. Why should we be punished for the mistakes of our parents?"

"Ruthie, we –"

"Make love to me, Stephen."

"What?" I jumped off the bed, needing to put as much distance as possible between us.

"If we do it once knowing the truth, it will get easier after that. Soon it won't matter at all.
Because it doesn't.
It doesn't matter."

She had a possessed look in her eyes as she stood up and followed me. Did she really believe what she was saying?

My body erupted in flames when she kissed me. It had been too long. She started ripping off my clothes and guided me toward the bed.

"Make love to me, Stephen. Please."

Maybe she was right. Maybe it didn't matter. No one else had to know.

"Oh, Ruthie.
I love you. I love you. I love you," I said, trying to make up for the weeks I hadn't allowed myself to say it out loud.

We undressed each other feverishly. Soon were completely naked on the bed.
Caressing.
Rubbing.
But then, as if on cue, we stopped and turned away from each other. Ruthie started crying. We couldn't do it. Not now that we knew the truth.

I grabbed what I could find of my clothes and went to sleep on the couch.

Sometime before dawn I forced my eyelids open and saw Ruthie sitting at the end of the couch. Without saying a word, she handed me a cup of coffee.

"I'm sorry about last night," she said after I'd taken a few sips.

"You don't have to apologize."

She stared down at her hands. "I shouldn't have gone to Bruce's house. I shouldn't have forced myself on you like that. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's not your fault."

We fell into silence.  The sun peeked through the yellow curtains of her living room. I needed to get home soon, before Father realized I was gone.

"Let me see your hand," she said when I'd finished my coffee. Her voice was barely a whisper, as if she was trying to hold back an onslaught of tears. At first I wondered why she wanted my hand, but then I remembered that I'd punched through a glass window the night before.  My hand was swollen and encrusted with dried blood.  She took some tweezers and tried to get out all the remnants of glass before she cleaned the cuts and scrapes.  I just stared at her the entire time.  There she was, taking care of me again. I was glad I had been there for her last night when she needed me.  It was nice to return the favor, for once.

"I couldn't get it all.  You may want to get some stitches or take some medicine so it won't get infected," she said as she wrapped my fist with gauze and kissed it.  I caressed her face with my other hand, just relishing the opportunity to touch her, to spend time with her. She closed her eyes tightly and leaned into my touch. "I can't take this anymore."

I dropped my hand and turned away. I knew what she meant. Seeing each other nearly every day and not being able to be together was slowly killing us.

"I'm going back to New York."

I took a deep breath.
"When?"
I couldn't fight her. I couldn't beg her to stay. I just had to accept it.

She shrugged. "Today, I guess. Nothing is keeping me here. I have no reason to stay."

"Where will you live?"

She sighed. "A girl from the art school said I could stay with her for a while." Ruthie stood up and hugged herself. "I've been thinking about it for a few weeks, actually. I'll live with Marie; maybe get a job as a waitress or something while I try to sell some of my work."

I nodded. It was as good a plan as any.  "Can I give you some money?" I asked, looking toward the window again. "I've been saving since..." I couldn't finish the sentence. I'd been saving money ever since our first kiss by the lake.

"No, I'm okay. Grandma Esther had some money saved."

The silence crashed upon us. I stood and slipped my feet into my sneakers. After throwing on my coat, I headed for the door. "Do you need anything?" I asked, my hand resting on the doorknob. Part of me wanted her to say she needed
me
. But what good would that have done? We needed to end this torment. Putting a few states between us was probably the most logical thing to do.

"Just a ride to the bus station," she said.

I nodded. "I'll pick you up in two hours?"

"Okay."

"So, Ruthie moved back to New York and you stayed in Virginia?" Lt. Drake asked

I nodded.

Lt. Drake looked at his watch. "It's almost five a.m. Why don't I get us some caffeine?"

I nodded again then started rubbing the soreness out of my neck muscles as Lt. Drake left the room in search of drinks. I was beyond exhausted. Ruthie and I hadn't slept much during the four days we were on the run.
And sitting in the same place all night, rehashing my turbulent life, added to my emotional fatigue.

Lt. Drake returned and placed a bottle of soda and a stale donut in front of me.

"Thanks," I said, before biting into it. I was so hungry I would've eaten anything. I wondered if Ruthie had been given more in the way of sustenance than me.

"Is Ruthie okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, she's fine. She's asleep in a holding cell."

"She's in a cell?" I nearly choked on a crumb of donut. They were treating her like a criminal.

"Relax; she's not under arrest or anything.  She's just using the bed to get some sleep."

I sighed in relief. I was glad she was getting the much-needed rest, but I missed her.

"Can I see her?"

Lt. Drake rubbed his chin. "I don't know -"

"Please?"

He sighed. "Alright, I'll make you a deal. I'll take you to see her, but I'm going to have to handcuff you again. I can't take a chance that you might run off before we finish this interview."

"That's fine." I set my soda down and held out my hands.

After he secured the cuffs to my wrists, Lt. Drake led me down a narrow hallway, past several cells holding miscellaneous drunks and prostitutes. I hoped Ruthie hadn't been forced into their company.

Thankfully, Ruthie was resting in an otherwise empty cell. She was fast asleep on a cot in the middle of the room. Her brown curls were piled in a messy knot on the side of her face. Her right arm hung limply over the edge of the cot. She looked beautiful. I wanted to go in and kiss her, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. Before I knew it, we were heading back to the interrogation room.

"You know, I was thinking about something," Lt. Drake said as we walked back. "When you were a kid, Matthew bought you and Ruthie a dog, didn't he? I don't think you said anything about her since you told me about looking for Matthew’s body. What happened to the dog?"

I sat down in the familiar wooden chair as Lt. Drake unlocked my handcuffs. "I tried to block that night out of my memory," I said as he sat across from me. I sighed. "One afternoon when I was eleven, my dad was taking a nap. He had been up most of the night giving last rites to one of his church members. Goldie started barking. Without saying a word, he came out of his room, grabbed his shotgun, and shot her in the backyard."