Raising Hope (30 page)
She’s still crying as she says, “It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is!” he says. “What’s not easy about it?”
“You’re sixty; I’m thirty-seven. And that’s just for starters. I’ve also got Hope to think about, my life with her and Sara Lynn and Mamie. Nothing’s easy about it.”
Jack waves his hand as if to say there’s not a problem in the world. “We’ll work it all out. My God! We’re having a baby!”
Ruth starts to smile and says, “You really want it?”
“Want it? I’m beside myself! I’m going to hand out cigars to everyone in town.”
“But . . . we’re both already so set in our ways. You’re old, for Christ’s sake. . . .”
He just laughs and pats her on the bottom. “You keep me young,” he says. “You and our baby’ll keep me young.”
He bends down on one knee then, right on the strip of cracked asphalt in front of the Dumpster, and Ruth rolls her eyes and says, “Oh, for God’s sake, Jack. Get up.”
“No way.” He grabs her hand. “I’m doing this right.” He clears his throat and says, “Ruth Teller, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Her eyes look big and scared, and she’s shaking her head slightly. Well, I’m going to kill her if she turns this man down. Three years . . . baby . . . Jack and Ruth . . . It’s all swimming around in my brain, making perfect sense even as it’s absolutely crazy. Just when I’m beginning to believe she’s looking for a way to tell him no, she shrugs and grins. “Oh, hell. Sure I will.”
Jack gets up and envelops Ruth in a big hug that seems to last for minutes. Then he kisses her, holding her face between his hands. He turns to me and smiles. “Well, Sara Lynn, you’re going to be an auntie. What do you think of that?”
I’m biting my lip, watching them, and I can’t say a word. As I open my arms to Ruth and squeeze her bony shoulders, it strikes me that I’ve been given the sign I was looking for earlier in the garden. I’ve seen my hummingbird today, and it’s Ruth Teller.
I
’m in the pool with Ginny and the KKs, and it’s my turn to see how many somersaults I can do in the water. Kelly’s leading with two and a half. I think I can do three if I take a huge breath and hold it, and I’m practicing filling my lungs with as much air as they’ll hold.
“Will you go already?” Kim says, splashing me.
“I’m going,” I say, splashing her back.
Then Ginny and Kelly start splashing, too, and pretty soon we’re shrieking and laughing and the lifeguard has to blow her whistle and tell us to knock it off.
“Hey, isn’t that your aunt Ruth?” Ginny asks. Sure enough, Ruth is walking toward us, wearing her usual denim shorts and T-shirt. Uh-oh. She’s not in “appropriate club attire.” Someone will say something to her and she’ll fly off the handle at them.
“I gotta go.” I hop out of the pool, grab a towel, and wrap it around myself. I hurry over to meet Ruth, saying,
Damn, damn, damn,
in my head.
“You’re not wearing club clothes,” I hiss at Ruth, steering her toward the locker room.
“Oh, excuse me,” she teases. “Guess I left my white tennis dress at home.”
I dry off and throw on my khaki shorts and red polo shirt. I stuff my wet suit in my swim bag and slide into my sandals. “Let’s go,” I say, figuring I’ll comb out my hair in the car.
We walk out to the parking lot and—wouldn’t you know it?—run right into Sam getting into his car. I hate myself for feeling this way, but I want to run in the other direction because I don’t want him to meet Ruth. She just doesn’t fit in here, and I’m afraid he’ll think I don’t fit, either. “Hey, Hope!” he says, raising his hand.
“Hi,” I say. I put my head down and keep walking.
“Hold on a sec,” he says. I stop dead in my tracks and close my eyes for a second. “Where’s Sara Lynn today?”
“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “She sent someone else to pick me up.”
Ruth is looking at me with hurt, puzzled eyes. She shakes Sam’s hand and says, “I’m Ruth Teller, Hope’s aunt.”
Sam grips her hand and flashes his megawatt smile at her. “Oh, you’re Ruth!” he says. “It’s great to meet you finally! I’m Sam Johnson. I teach Hope tennis.”
Ruth looks more relaxed, like she’s glad I at least told Sam about her. “We’ve heard a lot about you,” she says, and I wish I could pull her away before she says anything really embarrassing. “Hope talks about you all the time.”
I roll my eyes and tap my foot impatiently on the pavement. “Let’s go, Ruth,” I snap. “I’m tired.”
“Nice to meet you,” says Ruth.
“Likewise,” Sam calls. “Bye, Hope. See you tomorrow.”
I wait for Ruth to get in her car, and then I flounce into the passenger seat, do up my seat belt, and cross my arms over my chest.
“What bug’s up your ass today?” Ruth asks as she starts the car, pumping the gas.
“Nothing,” I tell her, still pouting.
We drive in silence for the whole way home, and when she shuts off the ignition in our driveway, she says quietly, “Will you wait a sec? I want to tell you something.”
I undo my seat belt and look up at her, curious. She takes a deep breath and throws her hands up, letting them land on the wheel. “I don’t know how to start,” she says, sort of laughing nervously.
I’m not feeling so good inside. Whatever she has to tell me doesn’t sound like it’s happy news. “What?” I demand. “What is it?”
“I—I’m getting married.” She has this dumb smile on her face, and her eyes are looking at me like they’re begging me to approve.
“What? Who?” I sputter.
“Well, brace yourself. Jack Pignoli.”
“Mr. Pignoli?” I shout. “You’re kidding me!”
“No,” she says. “It’s true. We’ve been dating for quite some time now.”
“Dating? You’ve been dating him and you never told me?” I turn my head to look straight ahead, because if I have to look at her face one more second, I swear I’ll either scream at the top of my lungs or break out crying and never stop.
“I—I guess I was too scared to tell you. Didn’t know how you’d react.”
I bang my hand on the dashboard so it stings and yell, “God! I’m not some little kid! I don’t care if you date someone.” I don’t care about anything anymore, not anything about her, anyhow. She’s such a liar. Such a big, fat liar. How could she say she loved me all my life and then just up and leave like this? Hell, I don’t care. I’m glad she’s getting married and going away. I’ll help her pack. What do I care?
“There’s more, too,” she says, her voice timid in a way I’ve never heard it.
“What?” I ask warily. What could possibly be worse than my aunt leaving me to marry her old-man boss?
“Well, I’m . . . I’m going to have a baby.”
“Oh, gross.” I put my head in my hands. We learned the facts of life a couple of years ago in school, and I have to say, it sounds absolutely disgusting to me. Mr. Pignoli must have made her do that, because he’s her boss.
“What’s gross about having a new baby around?”
“Well, that’s gross, too,” I say, thinking about all the crying, spit-up, and dirty diapers. “But, you know . . . the thing you had to do to have the baby.”
Ruth chuckles and puts her arm around me. “Oh, Hope, no. It’s not gross. It’s something you really enjoy doing with someone you love.”
“Gag,” I say, shrugging off her arm and shifting away from her. “Gag, gag, gag.”
I keep my head in my hands until Ruth says, “Well, what do you think? About the getting married part and having a new baby brother or sister?”
Well, this takes the prize. Not only is she springing all this on me with no warning whatsoever, but she’s trying to act like it’ll be fun. Oooh, a little baby for you to play with, Hope; won’t that be just dandy? I raise my face from my hands and spit out the truth. “It’s not going to be my brother or sister. It’s going to be
your
baby. Your own baby like you’ve probably always wanted.” It’s hitting me right in the stomach why she’s doing this. It’s because I’m not really hers. I never was.
Ruth looks confused, and then her eyes mist over. She hugs me as I keep my back ramrod straight. “No,” she says. “I already have the baby I’ve always wanted. This will be another.”
“I’m not your baby,” I say through clenched teeth, and I’m willing the tears not to spill.
Feel mad instead of sad, Hope,
I tell myself.
She never loved you like she said she did, and now she’s ditching you for a kid of her own.
“Oh, yes, you are my baby,” she says, rocking me. “Oh, yes, you are.”
I blink back my tears as she pats my back, and she says, “I’ll be moving in with Jack, but we want you to stay with us part of every week. You’ll have your own room at our house, just like you have here. It’ll be like having two houses.”
“Joint custody,” I say, nodding my head into her shirt. I should have guessed this was coming. She just feels too guilty to flat-out leave altogether.
“Huh?”
Doesn’t she know anything? I wipe my nose and pull away from her. “It’s what they call it when parents get a divorce and the kid lives sometimes with her mother and sometimes with her father. Kelly Jacobs does that.”
“Yeah, but Sara Lynn and I aren’t getting a divorce. Think of it like your family’s growing, not splitting apart.”
“That’s what Kelly’s parents told her, too,” I snap. I fold my arms over my chest and look straight ahead.
She doesn’t say anything, and I finally break the silence, asking, “When’s the wedding?” I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’ll get to be a junior bridesmaid, like Ginny was last summer for her cousin Veronica.
“Soon,” she replies. “Real soon. And you’ll be in it, of course.”
“Can I get a new dress?”
“Absolutely,” she says, and the heavy feeling in my stomach lifts for a second as I imagine myself in a long gown with a twirly skirt. Then all my mad feelings come
whoosh
ing right back because I know just what she’s doing. She’s trying to bribe me into going along with this whole awful idea. I’ll give you a new dress if you don’t notice I’m leaving you; that’s what she’s really saying.
“At least I get a new dress out of the deal. Whoopee,” I say in a snotty voice.
“Hope . . .” Ruth sighs. “I wish you could be a little bit happy for me.”
“Well, keep wishing,” I snap in my best KK imitation, and I slide out of the car, slam the door behind me, and march into the house without once looking back.
I
’m sitting outside on the terrace bench, just imagining what my little baby will look like. The stars are out and, dammit, I’m happy. I still can’t quite believe Jack and I are going to get married and have a baby. But, hell, Sara Lynn and Hope and I were a ragtag bunch at the beginning, and look how far we’ve come.
Hope’s been a little nicer about everything. Poor kid. It was a lot to get used to in one sitting, that was all. I think Sara Lynn might have taken her aside and told her to shape up, because she came up behind me tonight and put her arms around me, whispering that she was sorry for how she’s been acting. “It’ll all work out fine,” I told her, and I have to believe it will. That’s all a person can do sometimes, just trust that everything’ll be okay.
“Ruth?”
“Hey,” I say. It’s old Sara Lynn walking down the porch steps, probably about to give me yet another tip on how to care for the bundle of joy growing in my belly. She’s already given me a book about how to be pregnant, a book all wrapped up in pretty paper with little blue and pink footprints on it. I smiled and thanked her, but, Jesus H. Christ, women have been having babies for a long time. I likely don’t need a book to show me how it’s done.
“Sit down.” I move over on the bench and pat the seat beside me. “Sit with me now because in another few months I’ll be a wide load taking up the whole damn bench.”
“In another few months, you’ll be married and living with Jack,” she says.
“Won’t you be glad to get rid of me?” I joke.
She twists her hands in her lap and gets a pained look in her eyes. “No, I won’t.” She shakes her head. “I—I don’t know how I’ll live without you.”
“Well, you won’t have to live without me. I’ll be just across town, that’s all.”
She crosses her arms over her chest like she’s cold. “I’ll miss you, Ruth. And I don’t know how I’m going to manage my mother without you here.”
“Aah, Sara Lynn, she’s harmless.”
“No!” she says, looking at me like I’m climbing over a prison wall to freedom and leaving her on the other side. “You don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand? So you bicker a little bit. Who doesn’t, right?”
“I . . .” She looks away from me, hugging herself even tighter. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
I wait for her to spit it out, and finally she says, “I’m seeing someone. I’m . . . I’m sleeping with him.”
Well, she might as well knock me off the bench and roll me down the hill. “Who?” I ask.
She clears her throat and turns her face up to the sky and away from my gaze. “Sam. Sam Johnson.”
“Hope’s tennis teacher?” I burst out laughing. “Jesus, life gets wackier and wackier.”
She nods. “Mmm-hmm. I know it sounds crazy.” She smiles a little and twists a strand of her hair. “He’s fun, Ruth. I have fun when I’m with him. I just . . . I don’t know, I laugh a lot when I’m with him.” She looks at me and says softly, “He makes me happy.”
Sounds like she’s falling for this guy, and I’m glad for her. “Well, that’s great, Sara Lynn.”
She looks straight ahead again and shakes her head. “Except for the fact that he’s twenty-nine.”
I whistle. “Well, here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson.”
“Pardon me?”
Jesus, she’s slow on the uptake sometimes. “You know—
The Graduate
? The Dustin Hoffman character gets seduced by Mrs. Robinson?”
She nods. “Oh, right, right.” She looks anxious, her eyes blinking and her mouth twisted tight.
“I’m kidding.” I nudge her. “It’s a joke. I mean, I’m marrying Methuselah. I don’t really care if your new boyfriend is ten.”
She still doesn’t laugh, just puts her face in her hands and starts to cry.
“What’s wrong?” I pat her shoulder a little bit, and it feels weird. I mean, I never comfort Sara Lynn. “Doesn’t boy toy make you happy?”