A Soft Place to Land (12 page)

There was a brief moment of silence, as Mr. Roman stood, having offered himself before them. And then Casey stuck her fingers in her mouth and wolf-whistled and someone began clapping and everyone followed and Ruthie saw Laney’s hand shoot up—oh God, she was going to ask to be called on before saying it—and before that could happen Ruthie heard herself shout, “I want to bear your babies!”

It didn’t matter what she said. She was soon to be gone.

And everyone was laughing, as if Ruthie had just cracked the funniest joke in the world; everyone was laughing besides Laney, who looked annoyed that Ruthie had stolen her line.

And because it was Ruthie who said it, the poor girl who just lost her parents, Mr. Roman only blushed and shook his head and told the girls to stop being silly.

“Let’s get back to the book,” he said. “We’ve gotten way off course.”

When Ruthie and Julia walked in the back door that afternoon, Mimi was waiting for them at the kitchen table.

“Hi,” said Ruthie, dropping her backpack on the floor as always.

“Hi,” said Mimi. She did not smile at Ruthie like she usually did. “Julia, we need to talk.”

Ruthie glanced at Julia, who looked a little roughed up. Her hair was loose and flattened a bit in the back, and her nose and cheeks were red from the sun. She did not look like someone arriving home from a diligent day of study.

Julia slipped her bag onto the center island, then walked to the refrigerator and opened it. She pulled out two Cokes.

“What about?” she asked, handing a Coke to Ruthie.

There was a crack and a hiss as Julia popped the top. Ruthie opened hers slowly, barely making a noise.

“Dean Hasher called. Said he’s the Dean of Boys at Coventry? Apparently you didn’t show up for any of your classes today.”

Julia rolled her head slowly from one shoulder to the next, as if she were trying to stretch out a crick. “Oh yeah,” said Julia. “He’s right.”

She walked over to the kitchen table and sat in the chair next
to Mimi, placing her Coke on the hand-painted table without using a coaster. Had Phil been around, he would have insisted she use one. He had been fanatical about the use of coasters on anything that cost him money.

Ruthie remained by the center island, drinking her Coke and watching her sister respond to her aunt. Julia did not appear to be nearly as concerned as Ruthie felt she should be.

Mimi looked directly at Julia, raised her hands imploringly. “Honey, what’s going on? I can’t be getting calls from Coventry saying you’re a no-show. I mean, what the hell did you do all day?”

Julia put the Coke can, beaded with condensation, to her forehead. She let it rest there a minute, and then pulled it away. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I’m impulsive. It was a beautiful day and sometimes I just get so depressed about what happened to Mom and Phil it’s hard to be at school, hard to be where everyone has such a normal life. I just couldn’t take it today. I went to the park.”

Ruthie gave Julia an incredulous look. Was she not going to add the fact that she went to the park with Jake Robinson? Wouldn’t Mimi already know that anyway, if Dean Hasher had called?

As if she read Ruthie’s mind, Mimi asked, “Did you go to the park by yourself?”

“No. I went with Jake. Look, I know everyone thinks he’s bad news, but he’s actually a really good guy. His mom died, too, you know, when he was little. Had an aneurism and snap, she was gone. He’s the only person I really know how to talk to about all of this.”

Ruthie wanted to scream, “What about me? You can talk to me!” And she knew that Jake and Julia didn’t spend their time talking about their mothers. Ruthie bet Jake hardly thought about his mom anymore at all. What kind of a person plays a song about how violent sex is and then goes to the park to cry about his dead mom?

Mimi pushed on the tip of her nose with her pointer finger, a nervous gesture Ruthie had seen her do before. “You don’t
know what a shitty position you’re putting me in, Julia. I honestly don’t know what to do here. I guess I’m supposed to scream and shout and ground you. But I just don’t have it in me to do that right now. And frankly, I don’t know how much good it would do. Seriously, though, I need you to fucking go to school and stay there.”

It was the first time Ruthie had ever heard a grown woman use the word “fuck” except for in the movies. Southern mommies just did not use that word. At least not the ones Ruthie knew. She bet Mimi didn’t use to use that word, either, back when she was growing up in Tennessee.

Julia looked embarrassed, and Ruthie was glad.

“I’m sorry,” Julia said. “I was being an asshole. I won’t skip class again.”

Apparently it was free curse day at Wymberly Way.

“I know you’re angry about having to move to Virden. But maybe some good will come out of it. Maybe you and your father will build a really strong relationship. And it’s only for two years. Afterwards you can apply to wherever you want for college. We all know how smart you are. You’ve still got time to buckle down, to apply yourself. And if you do that—and you quit skipping classes—you’ll get in somewhere really top-notch. And you know what? A letter came from your dad today. It looks like he’s really trying to reach out.”

Julia looked suddenly very alert. “Today? Where is it?”

“It’s on the marble table in the front hallway. With all the other mail.”

“Are we okay? Can I go read it?”

“To be completely honest, I’m still annoyed. But sure, go ahead.”

Julia sprang from her chair, kissed Mimi on top of the head, and hurried out of the room. Mimi pulled two long clips out of the back of her hair, freeing it from its chignon. She ran her fingers through her scalp for a full minute, her eyes closed. When she opened them they landed on Ruthie, who was trying to decide
whether or not she could sneak out of the kitchen to follow Julia, to read her dad’s letter with her.

“Do me a favor, sweetie,” Mimi said. “Keep your innocence for as long as possible. I’m not good with teen drama.”

“Julia and I are very different,” said Ruthie. She felt disloyal saying it, but she also knew it was true. “Besides,” she added. “You did great.”

Just then Ruthie heard Julia screaming in the hallway. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck! I hate that goddamn fucking bitch!”

They heard a loud thudding as Julia ran up the stairs.

Mimi looked at Ruthie, her eyes wide. “She’s not talking about me, is she?”

“I think she’s probably talking about her stepmom. About Peggy.”

“You want to go talk to her?” asked Mimi.

As Ruthie hurried off to find out exactly what had made her sister scream, it occurred to her that she and Julia had switched positions. That it used to be Julia who was running out of the kitchen to comfort a hysterical Ruthie, crying on the living room sofa, having been banished from the table for doing childish things.

Ruthie found Julia in her room, sitting on her bed, knees curled up to her chest. She was playing INXS, loudly.

“Can I turn this down?” Ruthie asked.

Julia shrugged. Ruthie walked over to the stereo, turned down the volume.

“Aunt Mimi wants to know if she’s the g.d. f-ing mag you were talking about?”

Julia pushed a little breath of air out of her mouth, shook her head at Ruthie, as if she were hopelessly naïve.

“I got my response from Dad. They’re not budging. He thinks San Francisco is not an appropriate place for a ‘spirited teen’ like me. It’s straight out of Peggy’s mouth. God, I hate her.”

“Let me see the letter,” said Ruthie, walking to the bed with her hand held out.

“You can read it, but bottom line, they’re making me go to Virden.”

Ruthie read it anyway. She wanted to see for herself.

April 16, 1993

Dear Julia,

Peggy and I received your letter the other day, and we both appreciate the care you put into it. After I read it I rummaged through the boxes I’ve got stored in the attic, looking for those pictures you sent me when you were a little girl. We took them down when Peggy first moved in. She noticed that the edges were curling and said they would be safer in an album. You’ll be interested to know that I found five of your drawings. Three are of cats, one is of a dog, and one is of you. The cats are orange, black, and brown and white striped. The dog is brown, and you, of course, have that beautiful red hair that you got from your mother.

I suppose you sent me pictures of all of those animals because you imagined I was lonely and you wanted me to have some companions. Well, I was lonely, sweetheart. You were right. It was a hard time. You are also correct when you say that Peggy coming into my life was a blessing. Peggy followed by Sam.

Julia, it’s always been one of our wishes that you knew your half brother better than you do. Please remember that you are as related to him as you are to Ruthie. Someday you might even feel as close to him as you do to your sister.

I know it is going to be hard to be separated, but we want you to know that Ruthie is allowed to visit any time she wants. If she would like, she can come spend a few weeks with us every summer, just as you used to do. In your letter you spoke about applying the “wisdom of Solomon” to your situation. Well, Peggy and I have been talking about it, and we think that the wisest decision is for you to come live with us in Virden. We believe we can offer you a steadier environment here than you would have in San Francisco. There are many reasons for this, and here are just a few: Neither Mimi nor Robert are your blood relatives, and they might not feel as responsible toward you as we will. Neither Mimi nor Robert have ever had children, and we are not sure if they know what it takes to be a parent. Plus,
sweetheart, from what I understand, they live in the middle of the city. I am sure that is an exciting place to be, but I’m not sure it’s best for a teenage girl. Especially a spirited teenager like yourself. Peggy in particular feels strongly about this.

I imagine this letter will be greeted with some disappointment, but I hope you are soon able to see that you coming to live with us in Virden is really the best solution. I think you are going to like living here. Not only will you be able to develop your relationship with Sam; you will be able to develop your relationship with Peggy, too. She always wanted a daughter, you know. And now she can be a real mom to you.

If you would like to talk about this more on the phone, that’s fine. Just call us. Call us anyway; it is always good to hear your voice. And we’ll be seeing you soon. On June 10 as planned.

With love,

Dad

All was lost, all was changed, and Ruthie could not get warm.

The morning of their departure from Atlanta, Mimi had suggested that Ruthie dress in warmer clothes than a tank top and shorts, but Ruthie politely ignored her aunt. Atlanta was so muggy and hot it was impossible to believe she would ever feel cold again. Simply walking from their taxi to the entrance of the Atlanta airport caused little beads of sweat to appear on Mimi’s upper lip. Hours later they landed in thick fog, the temperature forty degrees cooler. Ruthie shivered as she and Mimi stood on the sidewalk in front of SFO, scanning for Uncle Robert’s silver Audi.

“Mark Twain said the coldest winter he ever spent was summer in San Francisco,” Mimi said.

It was the first time Ruthie had ever heard that saying, but it would not be the last. It turned out everyone said it in San Francisco, everyone delighted in rolling it out to any newcomer surprised by the cold summer.

Not just cold. Bone-chilling. Ruthie’s bones were chilled, even though Mimi immediately bought her thick scarves to wrap around her neck, a fleece jacket, a puffy down vest, mittens. In the room where Ruthie slept, which overlooked the tiny backyard
garden where calla lilies bloomed, the window was leaky, a half-inch gap between it and the pane.

“Robert jokes that all our windows are nailed open,” said Mimi, when first showing Ruthie the flat. Ruthie stood in the doorway, surveying the space, which was half the size of the bedroom she had left behind. “It’s wasteful, I know, but don’t you think the old wavy glass is beautiful?”

Mimi claimed she loved beauty even more than her brother, Phil, had. Though she could not be such a purist with her clients, when decorating her own home, anytime she had to choose aesthetics or function, aesthetics always won. So instead of cluttering up the living room with a boxy TV, Mimi chose simply not to have one. (Later, when flat screens came along, she relented.) Instead of putting a washer/dryer where the outlets were in the kitchen, which would have taken up precious space and jutted into the area where beautiful foods were to be prepared, Mimi used the wash and fold down the street. (Or, to be more accurate, she dropped her laundry off there on her way to her office in Hayes Valley and had someone else wash and fold it.) Mimi even used her sterling silver as her everyday flatware.

“We have it, it’s gorgeous, why not?” she said. “I suppose if we had been able to have children we would have been more practical, but we couldn’t, and so . . .”

She waved a tarnished repoussé fork in the air to finish making her point. A lover of beauty or not, Mimi rarely got around to polishing the silver. Of course, Ruthie’s mother never polished her silver, either, but Addie Mae the housekeeper did.

“Addie Mae
loves
polishing silver!” Phil used to say.

Once Julia added, “Just like she
loves
ironing your shirts!”

Phil had glared at her. “Don’t be a smart-ass,” he barked.

He was a man who, though he loved to tease, was not so good at being teased himself.

Maybe it was better that everything was so different in San Francisco. Maybe if Ruthie had stayed in Atlanta, had, say, lived with
the Loves while Julia went to Virden to live with her dad and Peggy, things would have been even harder. Ruthie would have forever been
near
but never
at
home. Whereas San Francisco, San Francisco was a different planet, with its rolling fogs and cold summers, its eucalyptus trees that made the air smell medicinal, its houses packed so close together, and none shaded by one-hundred-year-old white oaks, as Ruthie’s house on Wymberly Way had been.