Ruby Unscripted (29 page)

“Wait a minute,” Kaden says, coming close beside me. “You can't put all the blame on Ru—”

“Rob,” a deep voice says from behind us. His father. “Come to the house after this. We need to talk, and I have an early flight.”

“I'll be there in less than an hour.”

“Good.”

Rob's father returns down the stairs, but his presence does not.

“I'm sorry.” What else can I say? I can't even believe this. I've ruined our group's chance—and I really think we might have won.

Rob puts up a hand. “We'll talk about it tomorrow. I have to go.” And with that he heads toward the door.

Kaden follows without a glance in my direction.

Someone calls from another film group and says, “Hey, man, don't worry. You'll have another shot.”

But our team knows that for Rob, there is no other shot. We've been humiliated in front of the other groups. He's been humiliated in front of his father.

“It's okay, sweetie,” Mom says, putting her arm around me. I push it away as Mac, Austin, and Aunt Jenna circle around me. And suddenly I feel like I can't breathe. After all the hard work. And with such stakes. I think of the members of my group, of their talking about “If we win . . .”

“What happened, Ruby?” Mac asks.

“Ruby picked up the wrong film,” Mom whispers to him.

“So the real film isn't here?” he asks loudly.

“Yes, and it's my fault, and only mine. All my fault.”

The downstairs crowd is cheering. The noise in the coffeehouse heightens like the sudden turn-up of volume.

A few people mill around, glancing our way as my family circles me, consoling expressions on their faces. Mom touches my chin. “Don't be too hard on yourself,” she says, and the others nod. “It was your first time doing all of this. They can't expect you to be perfect.”

I want to scream at her, and then suddenly I am screaming and pushing away. “That was way less than perfect! Don't you get it? Everything I do lately is a failure. My entire life is a disaster. And if you hadn't called me right when I was picking it up, maybe I wouldn't have been distracted. You don't see the consequences of all the things you do to us.”

Mom looks confused at my words, and that makes me angrier. Does she really have no idea how much she's ruined our lives?

“I hate it here. I hate that you made us come here, that you decide to change our entire lives and we have to follow whatever you want. And then you don't even see how hard it is on us.”

“Ruby,” Aunt Jenna says, stepping toward me. I see Mac scurry toward Austin and Uncle Jimmy, who have moved away during my outburst.

“Do you know that Mac wishes he could build a time machine and go back to when you and Dad were married? Everything is harder and different, and we just want our mom and dad to come home to. We don't want to choose one or the other. I don't want my brother living in a different town. I don't want to take turns at Christmas or . . . or . . . You and Dad ruined our lives.”

And then I see the disappointment in Aunt Jenna's expression and the hurt in my mom's. But I can't stop—the words keep coming, the emotions, the tears, the feelings of despair.

“You and Dad promised to stay together. You raised us in church and taught us to put God first, then your marriage . . . and then you get a divorce? You ruined all of us. And I want to move home.”

“Home?” Her voice is so quiet it's hardly audible.

My voice is easily heard by anyone around. “Yes, and don't act like you don't know what that means. It's not my fault you and Dad made our lives so hard. I want to be with my old friends at my old school.”

“Ruby, we'll talk about this when you calm down.”

“No. I'm calling Dad. I'm going home.” And then I turn and rush through the kitchen and out the back door, knowing I should have run away before all those vicious words came spewing out. But they are truths. And I don't want to keep fighting for everything anymore. I truly do want to go home.

The cold surprises me. I'm without phone, purse, or jacket again. And where can I go anyway? No car, too far from home to walk, nobody to come save me.

Why doesn't God send a person, an angel cloaked as a human—I'll take a bum or that guy on the solar-powered unicycle.
Just, God, please send someone.

I wish it'd be my brother.

Or my dad.

I don't want to see my mom. Don't want to hear her anger or see her cry.

If only Natasha would arrive right now.

Once again I'm sitting on a street curb. And no one comes. Which figures. Doesn't it just figure?

I mean, what does God really want from me? I give up. I give up trying to figure this out all alone. Once I dreamed of bridges, but lately all I've been doing is sitting on curbs. I get up and try again, try to be grateful, try to seek God's purposes, try to explore who I am and who I'm supposed to be. And this is where it gets me.

I rest my elbows on my knees and rest my face in my hands. Tears fall between my fingers and onto the cold gray parking lot. Then I hear footsteps, and I know it's not my angel or anyone I want who is coming up beside me.

The scent of her perfume arrives before she does. Yes, it's Blair who sits next to me.

She laughs. Blair, the woman who only cracks a sardonic smile, is actually laughing. Laughing at me. Tears roll down her cheeks, and I ball my hand into a fist.

“I'm glad this is so humorous to you.” I really might hit her. “Just leave me alone.”

“You know, I haven't sat on a curb since I was probably five years old. Or maybe I've never sat on a curb. This is pretty pathetic.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I heard what you said to your mom. That wasn't like you at all.”

“And I'm sure you enjoyed every second of tonight.”

“Not really. I decided I like you though.” She looks at me with a hard examining eye. “Yes, I like you very much. I was wrong about you, Ruby. But don't become like me, okay?”

“O-kay.”

“Listen. Rob isn't going to hold this against you. It wasn't really your fault. He and Josef should have checked the film hours before the competition. None of us will blame you. And your mom is going to forgive you. Everyone will forget this happened, eventually.”

“But—”

“I said to listen to me.”

This takes me back. “Okay, but whoever you are, and whatever you did with Blair, I don't care.”

She doesn't laugh at that. Then she says, “Don't think I'm going to stop making fun of you or your religion though.”

“Of course not. I know you don't like anyone that much.”

And this makes her laugh as she walks back toward the Underground. Who would've guessed Blair would be my angel?

I'm shivering and still considering Blair's words when Austin pulls into the parking lot. “I dropped your mom and Mac off already,” he says as I get in the passenger seat.

It's a relief to be with him alone; he's good about leaving me to my silence when I need it.

Austin turns on my favorite radio station, and we settle in for the drive toward home, down the winding, hilly roads of Mill Valley. When we reach the house, Austin leaves the car idling a moment and turns the music off.

“I'm glad that I get to be your stepdad.”

This makes me smile sadly, considering the disaster that I am.

“Do you want to know what your mom said about you and your brothers before we started dating?”

I don't answer, only stare toward the open garage that is still lined with unopened boxes.

“She said that some people would say she's a woman with baggage. But that if I considered her children baggage, then I shouldn't bother going on even one date. She had baggage, no doubt, but her children were not it. She said, ‘My children are named Carson, Ruby, and Mac. And they are my greatest assets.' I think I fell in love with her at that very moment.”

This makes me smile a little, though it also makes me feel very sad.

“I shouldn't have said—”

“Ruby, you've become an asset to my life as well. I'm grateful to be your stepdad. And except for a few things tonight, I'm very, very proud of you.”

After acting like the meanest person on the planet, what do I say to that?

After a bath, I peek into Mom's room where she's in bed watching TV with Austin.

“I'm sorry,” I say.

“It's okay, sweetie. We can talk about it now if you want, or tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, if that's okay,” I say and then move to my room, feeling another wave of emotion trying to drown me. I was horrible to my mother, embarrassed her in front of dozens of people, but worst of all, I said the most hurtful things to her that I've ever said to anyone.

My phone rings as I sit on my bed—it's Kate's number.

“Kate,” I gasp into the phone.

“I'll just admit that I've been ignoring you.”

“You mean you could've talked to me?” The hurt comes through in my words, and then I apologize. And it's a “Sorry” that I need to say. “I don't blame you.”

Neither of us speaks for so long that I wonder if she hung up on me.

“You there?”

“Yeah,” and her voice sounds small and fragile.

I want to be there, to put on our pj's and make brownies and watch
Ever After
or
The Princess Bride
or both, like we always did when life was hard.

“I don't know what to say. Or what to ask. I don't even know what's going on.”

“Yeah, I know. Let's just say that my parents found out everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“I wasn't. James won't ever speak to me again. The whole school knows what happened. It's so embarrassing on so many levels. My dad acts all awkward around me, and he told James if he came near me again, they'd put him in jail. And for a week, I missed James so badly, I seriously thought I might die. I remember your mom saying once that divorce was so terrible she thought people could die from it. I understand that now.”

“I should have been there for you.”

“Yeah. You should have.”

Then I hear her smile—it's so weird how I can hear Kate smile.

“You can be there for me now.”

“I want to come home. I'll probably come up this weekend.”

“Why don't I come down there? It sounds great to get away, and Mom said she'd bring me.”

“Okay.” I adjust my pillows and slide under my thick down comforter. Life isn't complicated within the warmth of my bed. “I wish I hadn't moved down here.”

“You belong there.”

“No, I don't. I've made a huge mess of things down here—”

“Hey, you're talking to the Queen of Mess.”

“True, you do get the crown for now.”

“Thank you very much. But the thing is, when you lived here, there was a part of you that was bored with us.”

“That's not true. I've never been bored with you.”

“Maybe bored isn't right. But you weren't challenged here. You were exploring everything, not fitting anywhere.”

“I don't fit with anything here—”

“Not true. You fit there in lots of ways. Not in a lifestyles-of-the-rich-and-famous way. But in the energy, the opportunities. It's your place.”

“Now don't you sound all wise and mentorlike.”

“I've seen a glimpse of hell and survived. My hair should be gray.” She laughs a little. “It's been awful. My parents wanted to press charges, but I'm as much at fault as he is. I made my own choices. But there are good things coming out of it too. So remember that—don't think coming back would solve things for you. It wouldn't at all. I miss you and wish you were here. But you don't belong here now. You sort of never did.”

Before I can decide on a response, she continues.

“I'm not going to do the things you're going to accomplish. And I don't even mind, 'cause those things aren't me. I don't need to see the world or create great works of art. But you'd just better stay Ruby Red and not get too stuck-up to go toilet-papering with me.”

I laugh. “I won't, I promise.”

“Good. Then no more talk about moving back. And start planning some fun things for us this weekend.”

epilogue

“It's not that far of a jump,” Blair says as we swing our legs over the edge of the railing.

I stare down at the smooth surface of blue water thirty feet below us. Kate is on my left; London, Blair, Cass, and Frankie are in a line at my right. And for some reason, I suddenly think of Tony Arnold. Why does the memory of a kid I didn't really know follow me around at the strangest moments—like this one, as I'm standing at the top of a bridge?

“It's a bit dangerous, maybe illegal,” London says with a fearful glance at the water below.

Maybe it's the dangerous part that reminds me of Tony, the idea of death. And I want to remember him. Maybe if I remember, his life will hold more meaning and remind me to make mine more meaningful. Maybe?