And When I Die, page 32
Patricia stared at her for a few seconds before that bawdy, unbridled laughter erupted from her once more. A tear slid down her cheek and she dabbed at it with one of the recycled napkins she’d used earlier to fan herself. “That what she told you?”
Ava slid the envelope across the table. “This is from her forty-fifth birthday party a few years ago.”
Patricia exhaled as she picked up the invitation and studied it. “You said forty-fifth birthday? Two years ago?”
“That’s right.”
The low rumble of Patricia’s laugh lulled Ava in even more. “Ruthie was born in June 1970. She’ll be fifty-two in a few months.”
Ava clicked her tongue against her teeth. Was anything about Erica true?
Patricia looked at the invitation again. “She sure did go through a lot of trouble to put this little piece of nonsense together.”
“She’s a graphic designer, so I doubt something like this would be hard for her.”
“Homecoming queen.” Patricia scoffed as she dropped the invitation back on the table. “That’s rich.”
“Did your sister have her Sweet Sixteen birthday party at a country club?”
Patricia’s eyes grew wide. “A country club?”
Ava clicked her tongue against her teeth. “She’s also said she was a cheerleader in high school.”
Once again, Patricia roared with laughter, drawing perturbed gazes from the barista. “First of all, I was the cheerleader, not Ruthie. And is she really saying she had her Sweet Sixteen at a country club?”
“Yes.”
Patricia sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her middle finger. “Oh, Lord deliver. Ma’am, I think I’m fixin’ to have a heart attack.”
“So, none of those things are true?”
“Not only no, but hell no,” Patricia’s voice boomed across the café. “I wish I could say any of this surprises me, but it doesn’t. Vintage Ruthie.”
“What do you mean?”
Patricia raised and lowered the straw of her iced tea, the resulting squeaking noise against the lid reverberating across the still nearly empty café. She sighed and released the straw. “She lied about stuff all the time.”
Ava held her breath. “Like what?”
“One year, I guess she was thirteen, I was sixteen, Mama sent us to summer camp in Austin for a week and Ruthie told everybody there that Daddy was some rich lawyer and Mama used to be an actress and we lived in a big ol’ mansion in River Oaks. Later on, that same summer, we were visiting our cousins in Louisiana and some of their friends had come over to hang out and I overheard her telling them she was a prima ballerina about to move to Paris to be in Swan Lake.” She snorted. “She wasn’t any more of a ballerina than the frogs we used to catch behind Granny’s house every summer.”
Ava pushed down the laugh threatening to escape her lips. She cleared her throat. “Go on.”
“Let me tell you something. Mama was a nurse, Daddy was in insurance. Now, we had a small house, but it was a house. We had food on the table every night, clean clothes in the closet, and two cars in the driveway. Now they may not have been Cadillacs, but they were good, clean, reliable cars. Ruthie never took ballet lessons, never went to Paris, and the closest we ever got to River Oaks was passing through on the way somewhere. But, we had a good life.” Patricia sipped her drink. “It just wasn’t good enough for her.”
“So that’s why she lied—because she was embarrassed?”
“Listen, she was a dreamer, my sister. She wanted to be popular and pretty, wanted people to like her. Desperate for people to like her. So, she made stuff up ’cause she thought that’d make people like her.”
“What about Shannon?”
“Oh, Lord, Shannon.” Patricia shook her head. “Beautiful girl. Just beautiful.”
“Did you know her?”
“No, I didn’t know her, since I was older, but you know her mama used to be on the news here every night and looked just like her. Anyway, Ruthie, she idolized this girl, and you know, that’s dangerous.”
Carly flashed across Ava’s brain. “Idolized her how?”
Patricia sighed. “She talked about her constantly. How pretty she was. How nice she was. Special. Just yap, yap, yap all damn day long about Shannon. What did I think of her, where did I think she got her clothes from, how someone that pretty could be so nice, how she gave her a lip gloss or something silly. She even tried doing her hair like Shannon a few times, like curling it the same way? Didn’t look anything like Shannon, of course, but I guess give her points for trying.”
“Did she ever tell you why she did it? Killed Shannon, I mean.”
“Never. Not one word. None of us could understand it.”
“When was the last time you talked to Ruthie?”
Patricia rubbed her chin. “Right before she got sentenced so, over thirty-five years. Since it was a juvenile facility, they only let parents visit the prison, which was fine with me ’cause I didn’t have any interest in going. Anyway, Mama went every week for the whole ten years. And then, Ruthie got released, went home to Mama and Daddy for a bit. Then, one night, they came home from work and she was gone. Up and vanished. Mama was devastated.”
“Did you try to find her?”
“I did. For Mama. My husband and I hired a private detective and the only name we found was Emily Kason. Some birth certificate she stole, I guess. After that, nothing. Trail went ice cold. I told Mama she had to let it go, that if Ruthie wanted to talk to us, she would.”
“How do your brother and sister feel?”
“Ed, you know, he and Ruthie were the closest and it just destroyed him. He tells people he only has two sisters. Alice, being the oldest, she was hurt, but tried to be the good sister and keep the peace and all that.” Patricia shrugged. “She’s forgiven her and would welcome her back with open arms because she’s a much better person than I am.”
“What about you?” Ava asked, fingering the invitation still sitting on the table. “How do you feel about your sister, what she did?”
“You know,” she chuckled. “I don’t think anyone ever asked me that before.”
Ava tilted her head to the side. “Now’s your chance.”
Patricia was silent as she contemplated the question, absentmindedly bending the top of her straw with her index finger. “I feel bad for Mama,” she finally said. “She used to blame herself, thinking she’d failed Ruthie somehow, that she should have worked harder to give her things, you know, stuff. Crying all the time about how she lost her baby.”
“And you?” Ava prompted again.
“Honestly, I don’t lie awake at night boo-hooing over her. If I feel anything about her, it’s anger for what she did to Mama.” Patricia tapped the table with her index finger. “So. You never answered my question. You think Ruthie’s daughter killed this other girl?”
“As I said before, it’s really not for me to say.”
“So, Ruthie’s married with a daughter, huh?”
“Two daughters, actually. She … uh, she’s done very well for herself.” Ava picked up her phone and found a picture of Jay online. “That’s her husband and he’s quite wealthy. I mean like gangsta wealthy, as my kids would say.”
“Dang, he’s a big one, isn’t he?” Patricia said as she studied Jay’s picture.
“Yeah. He and Erica look funny standing next to each other.” Ava swiped until she found the pom squad photo from last year. “And this is Jordan.”
Patricia took the phone back, tears springing to her eyes as she moved her fingers across the screen to zoom in. She looked up at Ava, her face wet.
“Oh, she looks just like Mama. My God.” Patricia rummaged through her own purse, extracting her phone, swiping and tapping until she found what she was looking for. She slid the phone across the table to Ava.
“Wow.” Ava shook her head over the eerie resemblance between Jordan and her grandmother. “She’s the spitting image.”
“This would be too much for Mama,” Patricia said, patting her face once again with napkins. “This would send her over the edge.”
“Kennedy looks more like Jay,” Ava said, showing off a picture of Erica’s youngest daughter.
“She’s adorable,” Patricia said as she passed the phone back. She looked down at her hands balled up together in front of her and shook her head. “Well, Sweets, you sure have sent my top spinning this morning.”
“Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” Ava asked.
“It’s funny, Ruthie calling herself Erica now. She used to love All My Children. And boy, did she love Erica Kane. She and I shared a room and she had pictures of her all over her side.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Like an obsession. I guess in some way, Ruthie is starring in her own little soap opera. All in her head.” Patricia looked at her watch. “Well, Sweets, I got to put the brakes on this stroll down memory lane. Like I told you, Mr. Davis and I and another couple are leaving for an Alaskan cruise tomorrow and I got a lot to do.”
“Did you … were you interested in reaching out to Erica?”
Patricia sniffed. “For what?”
Ava nodded, understanding. “Of course. Never mind.”
The woman stood, swinging her purse over her shoulder. “What are you going to do now? About Ruthie, I mean.”
“Keep digging.”
“I hope to God Ruthie’s daughter didn’t have anything to do with this. And if she did, I hope she has the decency to have some got-dang remorse about it.”
Ava frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Because Ruthie was never really sorry for what she did. She was only ever sorry she got caught.”
Patricia winked as she picked up her plastic cup, now down to a few melting squares of ice, and deposited it in the trash as she walked out of the coffee shop, not once looking back.
79
RUTHIE
Ruthie tapped the steering wheel of her mother’s car, borrowed for the occasion, a decrepit midnight blue Honda Civic. She’d taken it to the car wash that afternoon, using some of her babysitting money to splurge on the deluxe package, which included two coats of wax, a vacuum job, and her choice of a complimentary air freshener in evergreen, vanilla, or springtime bouquet. She chose springtime bouquet.
The car wasn’t the only thing to get a makeover. She’d been practicing pressing and curling her hair like Shannon’s, sweeping the pitiful curls into a low ponytail, with high bangs in the front. Her sister, Patricia, lounged on her twin bed flipping through a Cosmopolitan and cracking her sugarless Chewels gum, rolling her eyes at Ruthie’s attempts. Ruthie had also done her best to copy an outfit she’d seen in Seventeen magazine that month, generally pleased by the way the faded jean miniskirt, aquamarine tee with the knotted hem, and white faux leather rhinestone belt looked on her somewhat pudgy frame. She almost looked cute. The crowning touch, of course—of course!—was filling in her lips with the lip gloss Shannon had gifted her. Ruthie felt as special as a princess as she put it on. How Shannon probably felt every day.
The only car in the driveway was Shannon’s. She looked at her watch again before letting her eyes drift up to the house, remembering the vases bursting with fresh cut flowers, the wonderful smell she couldn’t place, but would never forget, the bedroom masquerading as a closet. She knew the soft light emanating from behind the filmy sheers was from one of those pretty lamps with the multicolored stained-glass patterns. She wondered how many Diet Cokes Mrs. Kendall had had from the bottom drawer of her refrigerator that day and whether Dr. Kendall had played golf.
The front door opened and Shannon appeared. Ruthie recognized the Benneton print minidress from the discard pile that one day, that one magical afternoon in the sanctuary of the Kendall home, a dress she’d never seen otherwise. It made her smile being privy to that secret knowledge. The blue-black curls were swept into a low ponytail and the cherry red lipstick was back.
She sauntered toward the car, her gold heart charm bracelet dangling from her wrist. She frowned a little when she spotted Ruthie inside.
“Ruthie, hey, what’s going on?” she asked, confusion lacing her words as she peered inside the open passenger window.
“Ms. Grazoli sent me to pick you up for the initiation dinner for drama club.”
“Oh, you’re—Ms. Grazoli asked you to be in drama club for next year too?”
“Believe it or not, she did.” She laughed. “I know I’m not as good an actress as you, but Ms. Grazoli thinks I could be good for supporting roles. You know, the next-door neighbor, the best friend. That kind of thing.”
“Oh.” Shannon bit her bottom lip. “And Ms. Grazoli said you were the one who should come pick me up tonight?”
“She knows we live kind of close, so she said I should pick you up and bring you straight over to the dinner.” Ruthie put a finger to her lips. “Top secret,” she whispered.
“I thought you didn’t have a car?”
“It’s my mom’s car. She lets me borrow it sometimes.”
“You know, I could just follow you in my car,” Shannon said. “Then I’m not stuck there if it turns out to be lame, but you want to stay.”
“No, really, it’s okay,” Ruthie said quickly. “Besides, all those times you drove me home, I—I want to.”
Shannon’s arms were folded across her chest and she squinted, the beginnings of a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. She looked around, mumbling to herself as if she couldn’t quite decide what to do. Ruthie licked her lips and held her breath as she watched Shannon, afraid her plan was about to collapse around her like a deflated tent.
Finally, Shannon sighed and slid into the passenger seat. “All right, I guess since Ms. Grazoli specifically asked you to come pick me up.” She fastened her seat belt. “I wonder why she didn’t just tell my mom you’d be the one to come pick me up? She knows we know each other.”
Ruthie shrugged, her heartbeat returning to normal as she backed out of Shannon’s driveway. “I don’t know. I guess she wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Look, if it’s totally ill, we’re not staying, okay?”
“Sure, okay.”
“So, what’s tonight all about anyway?” Shannon giggled. “What do we learn, the secret handshake or something?”
“I don’t know. Ms. Grazoli didn’t tell me much. Just that I should pick you up.”
“Huh.” Shannon fingered the ends of her ponytail. “So where is this top secret whatever anyway?”
“Ms. Grazoli’s house. She lives over in Braeswood.”
“Ugh. God that’s far. How long’s this gonna last anyway?”
Ruthie shifted in her seat, irritation rippling through her. Why did she have to ask so many questions? Why couldn’t she just be quiet and enjoy the surprise?
“She didn’t say,” Ruthie said as she merged onto the freeway. “All she said was I should pick you up at seven and bring you straight to her house.”
“Huh.” Shannon said again before she fell silent as she dug into her purse and pulled out a cube of Blueberry Bubblicious.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be fun,” Ruthie said to break the silence. “I bet it’ll be kind of like a sorority. We’ll be like sisters.”
“Can you turn on the radio?” Shannon asked as she popped her gum into her mouth.
“Oh sure, yeah.” Ruthie fiddled with the knobs until she got Power 104, embarrassed she hadn’t thought to have the radio on when Shannon got into the car.
“I’m so sick of this song,” Shannon said as the stuttering sounds of “Rock Me Amadeus” filled the car. “So overplayed.”
Ruthie straightened up in her seat, her throat tightening as she turned down the offending song. “So, what’s been going on? I feel like since the play ended, I haven’t seen you at all. Before that even.”
“I’ve been super busy with pom squad and tennis and finals coming up. I still have to finish reading The Scarlet Letter and the stupid report’s due on Tuesday.” She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. “I have to power read the rest of it tomorrow and pull an all-nighter on Monday to finish the paper.”
“It was a pretty good book. I finished my paper a few days ago.” She pursed her lips, sneaking a glance at Shannon. “I can help you, if you want. I mean, I can tell you all about it. Give you some tips.”
“I’m cool. I always wait until the last minute. I think better that way. And I always get an A. Thanks though.”
“It’s really no big deal,” Ruthie said. “I’d be happy to help you.”
“That is so sweet. But seriously, though, I got it.”
Ruthie beamed at her actions being called ‘sweet.’ “Of course. That’s what friends are for. We are friends, right?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Like totally. You’re a super sweetheart.”
“I’m wearing the lip gloss you gave me. Do you like it?” Ruthie turned to her and smiled. “Does it look okay on me?”
Shannon glanced over then flicked her gaze back out the passenger window. “Oh yeah. Looks great.”
The heat of Shannon’s approval raced through Ruthie and she smiled shyly. It was all finally happening. Ruthie and Shannon. Shannon and Ruthie. “You really think so?”
“Oh yeah.” Shannon nodded enthusiastically. “Totally.”
“That means so much to me, Shannon. Really. I can’t tell you how much.”
“That’s so sweet,” Shannon repeated as she adjusted her air vent.
“So, what happened with you and Mikey that day?”
“What?”
“That day I was at your house,” Ruthie said. “And you left to go meet him at Sharla’s? Did he ask you to junior prom?”
“Ugh, no, he and Chad never even came over, so, totally missed him and I’ve been so busy the past few weeks, but Skip Lane is throwing a party next weekend and Mikey will be there.” Shannon smiled. “I’ll get my chance then.”
“That’s great,” Ruthie said. “He’d be seriously stupid not to ask you out.”
“Oh, he’ll ask me. I can feel it.” Shannon twisted around in her seat to look out the rear window as Ruthie exited the freeway. “I thought you said Ms. Grazoli lived in Braeswood?”
