The Ruining (17 page)

the table and the computer atop it, which had flashed to life. Nothing, after all, was on the screen. I checked the history, and the last entry was my email account at five after ten the previous night. I must have cracked the window in the half-asleep state I’d been experiencing regularly since I started the exhaustive task of babysitting Zoe. I decided to do one thing, just one thing to confirm that my room hadn’t been tampered with.

I padded down the stairs and gently opened the door to Walker and Libby’s wing. They had their own long hallway with several rooms branching off. I’d only been back there twice: the time Libby had given me her old clothing and the first day I’d arrived. On that first day, Libby had shown me around quickly before closing the door and informing me that there’d be virtually no reason to return to this end of the house. Zoe wasn’t allowed; it was her parents’ private space, their oasis from their married-with-children lives.

The hallway was carpeted, so I was able to slip noiselessly in. I just had to confirm that Libby was sleeping, that she hadn’t woken up and snooped in my room. I knew I was taking a risk. There was no reason for her to snoop. But I was forgetting so many things lately, and my nerves were beginning to fray. I’d begun to feel anxious and high-strung. I had to know the extent of what was happening to me.

Libby’s door was ajar. I peered in, my eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness of her room, which was more extreme than that of the hallway. All of her blinds were drawn. A strange, vinegary smell permeated my nostrils. I took a step toward the massive bed, a king-sized, sleigh-style bed that rested in the center of the room as if on stage. It wasn’t backed up against the wall; but then, the room was big enough for such extravagant use of space. I could hear Libby’s breathing, deep and slow. I moved closer. I felt compelled to see her. To prove to my brain that it was her in the bed, her sound asleep, her in the way that it could be no one else.

I stumbled into a pile of clothing. The smell grew worse as it shifted around, as if it had been burying something foul. Slowly, as my eyes adjusted more and more, I noticed similar mounds all around the room. Piles of clothes, plastic and paper wrappers balled up and discarded, makeup spilled on the vanity. There was the sour odor mixed with something rank and musty, like body odor. She was slovenly here, in the privacy of her own quarters, a space she believed no one else could see. When there’s privacy, that’s when you let your true self emerge.

Through it all, Libby breathed deeply, reassuring me that she’d been asleep the whole time. She wouldn’t have had the chance to be in my room and get back here and fall into such a deep sleep otherwise. And why would she? She was my ally. Libby was all I had. She was everything to me.

Nevertheless, the knowledge wasn’t enough. I crept closer to her bed until I was standing right above her sleeping form. I could see everything: the curve of her lashes, the rise and fall of her chest. The curly quality of her hair, let loose from its normal bun and falling into unkempt waves around her shoulders. I felt a kind of reverence overcome me as I did it. I imagined myself there, in her bed—not with her, not like that—but me there instead of her. For a second I saw my own sleeping form in that bed. I saw myself as Libby. With her life. Her husband. Her children.

I stared at Libby. I wasn’t sure what compelled me to do it. But I stared at her in the darkness for a very long time before I went back to my bed.

IT wAs suNdAy. My official day off. If ever I deserved a real day off, it was now. The sun shone through my delicate gauze draperies, casting a friendly pattern on the floor. The night— everything that had happened after Owen—seemed like something I’d imagined.

What happened with Owen was different. Owen was raw and red and gaping and swollen. He was a wound that looked dubious, one that maybe would heal with care and time, or maybe would fester and worsen. I knew that in order for the former to come true, I had to drag myself out of bed. I had to take care of my wound, make it better before it worsened.

I was surprised to find that my clock read eleven o’clock. It was the first time I’d slept that late without someone coming in to wake me up. I wondered why they’d left me alone, if Libby had somehow intuited what had happened with Owen. Every time I thought of him, I had to steady myself. I pushed back my curtains and gazed into the backyard.

My room overlooked the pool, the grass, and, beyond that, the water and the city. It was lovely. The island spread out on either side of the house like an unexplored wilderness. And Zoe and Walker and Libby and Jackson were all playing in the pool, which was now heated bathtub-warm so they could use it even in these pre-winter months. I watched Walker push little Jackson around in his baby inner tube, Zoe splashing in floaties nearby. Libby pulled herself out of the water and lay down on a lounge chair atop a towel, apparently content to let the sun absorb the moisture on her body. From afar, they were ever the picture of happiness. I badly wanted to go down and talk to Libby about what had happened the previous night with Owen. I felt like she deserved some of the credit for encouraging me to take that leap. And now, of all times, I badly needed her support. But all together, they looked like a unit. I would be an intrusion.

Even so, I had all kinds of pent up energy and emotions to expel. What had I done before, when I was upset about something? I had run. I used to run all the time. Anywhere, everywhere, all around Detroit, even through the bad areas, which just pushed me to run faster. But I’d been so constantly exhausted since I’d come to California that I hadn’t thought about running even once. It had been such a big part of my life in Detroit that I was shocked that I hadn’t even thought of it until now. I grabbed my phone and looked at my text messages out of habit. Then I clicked over to the Internet before I could feel sorry for myself. In the Google search engine, I typed, “Belvedere Island hiking trails,” and a list of results popped up. It looked like the closest hike was in the Muir Woods, seven miles away. Looking at photos of the woods made me extra-excited. There were gorgeous flowers in San Francisco—the California poppy, bright orange and welcoming; the crimson columbine, which looked like an upside-down star with a tiny blossom in the middle; the star lily, which looked like a cluster of snowflakes from afar; dozens of others in bright orange and purple hues that I couldn’t name. Lissa had loved flowers, and these exotic species would have thrilled her.

I threw on my Lycra jogging pants and a tank top and sweatshirt, residual from my Detroit wardrobe, and ran down the steps. The hike was four and a half miles. It should take me just a little over two hours, if I kept it brisk. I dashed out the sliding door to the pool terrace just as Libby was about to step into the kitchen; we nearly collided.

Libby pressed a hand to her chest. “My god, Nanny. Be more careful next time, will you? Where are you going in such a rush? I’m glad you’ve come down, though. I thought you probably needed a good rest, but I could use a little help preparing lunch. What?” she asked, noticing my disappointed look. “Don’t tell me you’re meeting Owen.”

“No.” I shook my head. “We broke up. I broke up with him,” I clarified. “Last night after I put Zoe to bed.” I swallowed hard; it was really difficult to acknowledge it as reality and to believe that I had made the right choice.

“Oh, Annie,” Libby said. “I’m so proud of you.” She hugged me, then pulled back, gripping my shoulders and staring into my eyes. Her fingers were tight and talon-like on my shoulders. Her fingernails pressed hard into my skin, hard enough to leave bruises. “This was the right decision,” she told me. “You’ll find someone else in no time. You know, there was something I didn’t like about him from the start. He always seemed a little cagey, like he had something he was hiding. . . .” As she rambled on, I erected an invisible shield all around me so the words would flow above and beyond, but never penetrate. I just couldn’t handle it right then.

“You know,” I interrupted, “I was hoping to have some time on my own, just to think. Do you mind if I take one of the cars over to that hiking trail in Muir Woods? I really want to go on a walk, and I’d love to see it.”

“Absolutely,” Libby said. “But don’t you want to go somewhere closer? Why don’t you just walk down by the water? It’s so lovely right here. Besides, I might need you close today in case something comes up. Walker’s busy preparing for his trip to Shanghai, and I could use the extra set of hands.”

“I guess . . . I don’t know, I guess I wanted to go somewhere a little more private,” I told her. I needed this day off, for my sanity. And the truth was, I had always loved the woods. I loved how the trees closed in a canopy above me, so I was completely protected from the outside world. I’d only been on a few camping trips—once with school friends in Michigan, and once with my mom and Lissa long ago—but I remember feeling like I could spend forever in the forest. There’d been

so much to see, and so many ways to get lost, but for some reason it had inspired comfort and happiness rather than fear. I wanted to feel that way again. On the shore at Belvedere, though, I could be seen by anybody in one of these houses. I’d be exposed, vulnerable. I didn’t want that. I wanted walls. I wanted to wrap myself up in the trees and nestle down into the woods where I could feel like the only person there, like no one in the world could find me. But I couldn’t say any of this to Libby.

“Don’t be silly!” she insisted. “The bay is perfect for reflection and solitude. And it’s so lovely. Why on earth would you want to go into the woods? It’s filthy out there, and there are all kinds of bugs. What if you come back with ticks? Are you a hippie? Only druggies and hippies hang out in the woods, Nanny. I don’t approve of the whole philosophy behind that way of life.” She rummaged around in the cupboards, pulling out ingredients for the kids’ lunches.

“I just really want to go on a hike,” I said. “To see some nature.” Libby emerged from the pantry, a jar of peanut butter in hand.

“Peanut butter,” I replied dumbly. I wasn’t sure where she was going with it.
“Nanny, why would you bring peanut butter into our home? You know very well that Zoe’s allergic!”
“I just thought—I didn’t want to rely on you for food so much, and there are the safety locks on the cupboard—”
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to borrow one of our cars today,” she said in a chilly tone, cutting me off. “It just isn’t possible. We may need them. I suggest that you visit the beach if you’d like to get outside.” Libby opened the trash under the sink and dropped the peanut butter in with a thud.
As for me, I acquiesced. It seemed I had no choice.

wALkINg ALONg THE BAy a half hour later, I had the eerie sensation of being in the focus lens of a telescope. Waves crashed into the rocks that rose all around me, sending sprays of wet foam into the air. And the craggy hillsides certainly obscured some of the houses from view. Yet it felt as though everyone in the palatial homes surrounding the coast had trained their eyes on me. But why would they? I was so insignificant in their world. Why did Libby have her eyes trained on me?

There was something odd about the way she took an interest in me, the way she vacillated from concerned and caring to cold and disapproving. And the way my happiness in Marin County hinged on her approval wasn’t right. I knew it. I wouldn’t go as far as to call it pathological, but I had to get a grip, to form a social life outside of the Cohen family.

But how could I, when Libby had turned away the only girl I’d tried to bring home? When she’d encouraged me to break off the only real relationship I’d formed thus far? When I’d moved to Marin County, I’d thought I could have it all. I thought it would be a breeze in comparison to the worry and stress I’d felt over my mother’s fate and my inability to break free of the poverty-clad binds that kept me tied to Detroit. But the truth was, being in California was no different. I was equally enslaved to my fate. It just happened to be a different life without choices. And as long as there were no choices, what did it matter where the insular sphere happened to be?

I knew I’d been emotional, overwrought, strung out. But how much of that had been me and how much had been Libby putting pressure on me? The more I thought about it, the more I suspected that I’d handled the Owen situation the wrong way. I should have put more thought into it, or at least waited until I’d calmed down. And now I’d ruined everything.

I moved away from the water, as close to the hill line as I could, in an attempt to conceal myself from any prying eyes. I took off my flip-flops and felt the sand sift over my toes. I rubbed its granules between my fingers, mostly just to assure myself that all of this was real. I was a real, rational, thinking person. And I knew in my heart that I had made a mistake.

I stood and began to walk back, feeling a new resolve. I’d apologize to Owen. I’d tell him I wanted to make it work, and that I was ready to support his business endeavors, no matter where they might take him. I’d set boundaries with Libby. I’d tell her what I wanted. I’d tell her that the yellow wallpaper needed to come down. And my door needed to go back up. And that I needed more than one day off in order to get through school. If only I could handle everything differently, all of it would get better. I needed to talk to Owen right away, though. I couldn’t let any more time slip by.

I walked up the coast, back toward the house. Cutting up toward our lawn, I began to cross over toward the Oswalds’. I heard Izzy barking outside in the front yard as I approached from the back. I smiled to myself; Izzy had a strange way of normalizing everything. When I rounded the side of the house, Izzy and Owen were already outside. There was a car in the driveway, a red vintage convertible. I couldn’t make out the driver, but it was obviously someone Izzy knew well; she had her paws up on the driver’s side and was tucking her head over into the seat, where someone was reaching out to pet her.

Then the person turned off the car and opened the door. Out emerged the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. She had long, tan legs and a tiny, athletic figure. Her blonde hair tumbled down her back in the kind of waves I’d always assumed had come from stylists, not nature. She was wearing low wedge heels and tiny red shorts with a loose-fitting white blouse. Bangles covered her wrists and large, white-framed sunglasses perched on her nose. She was too pretty for real life. She was even prettier than Libby.

Owen walked up to her and she leaped into his arms. She laced her hands behind his neck and gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. I paid attention to the way his arms were wrapped around her little waist, drawing her body closer to his. I froze. I was already halfway toward the front of the yard, on his side of the fence. If I turned back, they might see me. They might see me either way.

And then they did. She did. She nudged Owen and he turned. His face morphed from a happy grin to something carefully void of expression. I walked forward, placing one foot in front of the other, willing myself to endure the mortification simply because I had to. Izzy barked twice and ran up to me, covering me with kisses.

“Iz, stop,” said Owen, clearly annoyed.
“Hi,” the girl called out in a confused tone. “I’m Alexis.” “Annie,” I said woodenly. I kept going, walking past Owen.

I couldn’t even entertain the thought of explaining to them why I was in his yard. Then I heard his footsteps behind me, and his hand was on my wrist.

“Annie,” he said. “Annie . . . look. Just wait. I need to talk to you about some things.”
“Sure seems like it,” I muttered, trying not to cry.
“What? I—Annie, about Libby. About the Cohens.”
“Owen, stop,” I said a little too loudly. I looked behind him and saw his new girlfriend staring at me with wide eyes. “You’ve only made things harder,” I told him. And then I turned from him and walked away. Whatever he had to say, it just wasn’t worth it. Instead, I put one foot in front of the other one until I reached the house. Only then did I let the torrents of tears shake my body. I knelt on the floor of the foyer and sobbed until Libby found me there. Walker took Zoe from the room, and Libby put her arm around me.
“Nanny,” Libby told me. “You’re all right. I’m going to help you get better. Don’t worry, you’re all right. He’s a smart guy, that Owen. He’s a smart guy, but he doesn’t know a thing about women. He’s too smart for his own good.” Her jaw clenched, and I leaned into her. I cried into her shoulder and it was muffled but violent. I was embarrassed. I couldn’t help but look forward to Walker leaving on his business trip to China the following day. It would give me a chance to be with Libby, who cared about me. Walker was just a thing, an accessory I wanted to decorate my life with someday. Libby was a kindred spirit. A soul sister. She understood me without me having to explain. I cried and cried and cried into Libby’s shoulder, because the person I cared about most had clearly been lost forever, and because Libby had been right all along. I could no longer trust myself and my confused psyche and twisted standards of what was right and healthy. I had to depend on Libby, and from now on, I would listen to everything she had to say. Finally I let her lead me to my room. The first thing I noticed was that my door had been replaced while I was gone. My door was back and everything would be okay again. Even so, I couldn’t rest as Libby had suggested. I stared at the door for hours. It was my only protection from all the things that could hurt me.