Saving Ruth (16 page)

“Language!” She looked at me and put her hand over her mouth in apology, her glitter nail polish glinting wildly in the sun. “Sorry, Coach Ruth! My bad.”

“Yeah, watch your language!” Derrick yelled, straightening his posture now that somebody was on his side. “You should sit her out,” he called to me.

“I think I can handle my job without your advice, thanks.” He took a running start and leaped off the board, rounding his gangly body into a somersault before crashing into the water's unforgiving surface on his back. The sound of his skin slapping water made me wince.

“Nice one, genius!” yelled Julie. Derrick surfaced, his face contorted in pain.

“Owwwwwww,” he moaned. Crystal and Melissa watched him, wide-eyed.

“My turn,” said Kevin. He had snuck up on me again.

I climbed down and continued to watch the pool as he took his seat. “Can you hand me the umbrella?” he asked. I hoisted it up to him.

“Is that Jill Dobbs over there?”

“Yeah.” He made a face as the umbrella unfurled. “What, not a fan?”

He shook his head.

“Naw. And not of her boyfriend either.”

“Really, why?” My stomach turned as I anticipated his answer.

“Has she always been a nigger lover?”

“C'mon, Kevin!”

“What?” He looked at me in complete innocence, as though I was the one who was an asshole.

“She's my friend. And so is he.”

“Well, that's your choice, ain't it? You'd think after one of them practically drowned here that they'd know where they weren't wanted.” I stared at him for a few seconds and then just walked away, ashamed by my cowardice but too much of a wimp to take him on. My face burned.

“Hey, Wass, come talk to us!” said Jill as I passed by their chairs, my head hung low.

“Gotta get back to the snack bar,” I mumbled. “I promise I'll come hang in a little.”

I was a horrible person. Worse, a spineless wimp. Why was I intimidated by Kevin? Did his thinking I was cool really trump defending basic human rights?

I sank into the plastic pool chair and stared morosely over the snack bar counter. Kevin was sprawled out in the umbrella's shade, twirling his whistle around his index finger. I wished he would say something stupid to Malik and that Malik would flatten his face with one punch. This wasn't the pool I had grown up at. Or was it? And what did Kevin mean by “weren't wanted”? Did he think that David and I were racists too? Did he even know that we were Jewish? Jesus.

A sharp rap on the wooden counter jolted me out of my spiral.

“Earth to Ruth! Come in, Ruth.” David smirked at me, and held up two large cans of paint by their handles. “I went down to the art supply store and bought some stuff for the mural,” he explained excitedly.

“Cool,” I replied unenthusiastically.

“What's up your ass?” He shook his head and walked away.

Great. Leonardo da Vinci was here. Meanwhile, I had saved a kid's life to almost zero gratitude from David or anyone else, and a Klan member was watching the pool. I looked at the clock. It was almost time to relieve Kevin.

“Hey, guys,” I said as I passed Jill and Malik. Jill was reading an
Us Weekly
and Malik's eyes were closed. He opened one.

“You're blocking my sun, babe,” said Jill. “Move a little to the left.”

Malik shook his head. “She's obsessed. Forgive her, it's beyond her control. How you likin' Michigan?”

“It's cool. I like it a lot, actually.”

“Helluva football team. They actually sent a recruiter down to talk to me, but my mom would have killed me if I had gone that far away.”

“She lives for her precious Malik,” added Jill, rolling her eyes.

“How's FSU?” I asked.

“Good. I like it down there. It's hard balancing classes and football, but I'm trying.”

“Do you miss Jill like crazy?”

“I do, I do.” He put his hand on her brown belly, and she smiled.

“It's not easy, but we're makin' it work,” she said. “At least that's what he tells me. I'm sure there's no lack of hoochies swarming.”

“All the hoochies in the world can't compare to you.”

“Awwwwwww.” Jill grabbed his hand.

“Okay, I'm going to go puke now.” I smiled. “See ya when I get down.”

“How long do you go up for?” asked Jill. “And what's your brother doing over there?” She shielded her eyes with her hand.

“Half-hour, and he's painting a mural.”

“A mural? Cool. But what about your back?”

“What about my what?”

“Your back? You're up there for half-hour shifts all summer long, but your back never gets tan! Don't you hate that?”

“Somehow I carry on.” I waved and continued walking.

Kevin looked down at me. “You're just in time. I was about to burst into flames.”

“Hey, Kevin?” My heart beat like a drum in my chest.

“Yeah?”

“I don't want you to ever say that word around me ever again.”

“What word?” I furrowed my brow. “Nigger?”

“I said, don't say it.”

“I can say whatever the hell I want about whoever the hell I want. I don't need your permission.” He climbed down, and I kept my eyes on the pool. “And besides, Jill doesn't even have a membership.”

“So you're okay with being a racist?”

“Sure am.”

“You know I'm Jewish, right? And that David's Jewish?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So don't you hate on us too at your Klan meetings?”

He shook his head. “I've never said shit to you about being Jewish.”

“But obviously you've thought it.”

“This conversation is boring. Watch the pool.” I wanted to kick his pointy teeth right into his smug little mouth. He walked away and then circled back.

“You know, we've always been cool, Ruth. Let's keep it that way.”

“I meant what I said. If I ever hear you say that word again, or you so much as look sideways at Jill, or Malik, or any other nonwhite person who comes here, I'll—”

“You'll do what? Tell the board? Good luck with that.” He sauntered off, and I fought back tears of frustration and disbelief. I hated him. I hated him—but for a change, I liked me.

17

O
n my run the next morning, I rehashed yesterday's conversation with Khaki. Was I inadvertently awakening the crazy Khaki that lurked inside of her? I desperately wanted to teach her the sane way to handle food and exercise, but would it backfire? She was so smart. Maybe she'd be able to lose weight and not spend the rest of her life calculating calories at twenty paces. Then again, I was smart and look what had happened to me. A loud honk made me catch my breath in fright. I turned around to find M.K. on my tail, grinning broadly.

“Need a ride, sweetie?”

“Follow me home!” She nodded and waved me on.

“Are you stalking me?” I asked. She leaned against the hood of her car in my driveway, drinking a Diet Mountain Dew. Her bottle's contents glowed chartreuse in the bright sun.

“Maybe. Where have you been? You don't call, you don't write.”

“I'm sorry, Reed.” I walked over to her. “Things have been sort of nuts around here.”

“So I hear! Hello, Lifeguard of the Year!” She put her arm around my damp shoulder. “Uch, sweathog.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah, that's me all right. Lifeguard of the Year,” I replied.

“You workin' this morning?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nope, I have the day off.”

“Nice, I'm kidnappin' you for a little bit.”

“Technically, I think that kidnapping involves no prior warning.”

“Okay, smart-ass, get in the car. I need some company runnin' somethin' over to Dwight's real quick. We broke up again.”

“Wait, what? What happened?”

“Oh, just the usual shit.” She rummaged in her purse for a cigarette while starting the ignition. “We're takin' a break.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, Wass. You know we do this every couple of months or so. It keeps things interesting.” She exhaled smoke as we backed out into the street.

“But why? What are all of these breaks even about?”

“It's usually a jealousy thing. Either he's talking to some girl, or worse, sleeping with her, or he swears I'm making eyes at, like, the Burger King drive-thru guy.”

“Sounds like your grievances are a little more serious than his.” I stared out the window for a second before continuing. “Reed, why would you stay with someone who cheated on you?”

“Oh, he doesn't mean it, Wass. He's a guy. He can't help it.”

“You buy that?” I asked. “That his dick is beyond his control?”

We stopped at a red light, and she looked over at me with sad eyes. “No.”

As the light turned green she added, “But I love him, Wass. What can I do?”

“M.K., it's not like this is the only guy you'll ever love in your entire life! There will be others who actually respect you and treat you right. You've never even tried to meet one.”

“You sure do talk a lot for somebody who's never really been in a happy relationship either.” I looked at my lap. “That Tony guy didn't exactly sound like a prize.”

“Okay, fair enough, but we dated for what—a semester? We're talking about years here with you and Dwight.”

“Wass, honestly. Enough. It is what it is.” She winked at me. “I know you hate that saying. That's why I used it.” I stared out the window, pouting.

“Thanks,” I replied.

“Can we quit gabbing about dumb Dwight and talk about you, please? Tell me about the accident. You didn't tell me anything the other night.” I recounted the story for her, minus David's weed.

“I can't believe that David Wasserman was asleep at the wheel. That's so unlike him,” she said when I had finished.

“Yeah. It is.”

“Did he thank you profusely or what? You saved that little girl and his ass in one fail swoop.”

“Yeah, I guess so. In his David way.”

“Well, that's bullshit. He better step up.” She made a left onto Dwight's dirt road. His parents lived in a giant house in the country, filled with wooden ducks and plaid wallpaper in various shades.

“Is the little girl so cute? What's her name?”

“Tanisha.”

“Tanisha,” she repeated. “I'm telling you, some of these names. Remember our friend Tequila in the third grade? I mean, c'mon. Tequila?”

“I hardly think Tanisha is as bad as Tequila,” I replied. “Maybe it's got something to do with black culture that us crackers are totally clueless about.” If M.K. revealed her own hidden racism reserve right now, I would lose it.

“Mmm, maybe.” We pulled into Dwight's driveway. His enormous beige truck sat in front of the house—a vehicular version of a giant penis.

She turned off the engine. “A hundred bucks says that there are a ton of idiots up there talking racist crap.”

“You mean at the pool?” I asked with relief.

“No, at your house. Of course the pool, dummy.”

“You want that hundred bucks in twenties or tens?”

She shook her head. “That is nasty. Ignorant and nasty.” She looked over her shoulder into the backseat. “All right, time to hand off the bag.”

“How many times have you two handed each other the same damn bag?”

“Do I look hot?” she asked, expectantly.

“You're on fire,” I answered.

“Okay, be right back.” She got out of the car and adjusted her cutoffs, which were dangerously close to exposing ass cheek. I held my tongue. As she walked away, I lit a cigarette.

I watched her fidget as she rang the doorbell. Dwight opened it shirtless, his impressive beer gut straining against the waistband of his basketball shorts. He leaned on the doorjamb as she handed him the bag dramatically, turning to leave as soon as the handoff had been made. He grabbed her arm, and they took turns making wide eyes and gesturing at each other. I could see the same scene ten years from now—a couple of kids loitering in the doorway, M.K. inside and Dwight on the porch, begging for forgiveness. It was depressingly easy to envision. Where would I be in ten years? Not here. That was for sure.

She turned to leave again and this time went through with her departure. I watched Dwight watch her walk away. He gawked at her backside as she gave me a victory wink.

“Oh, Wass, don't be such a stick in the mud,” she said as she got in.

“What?”

“I see you, you know. The look on your face.”

“I'm sorry. Ignore me.” She started the car. “I just think you can do better, I guess.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, have you gone out with Chris yet?” she asked as we headed home.

“Yeah, actually. Right after the accident.”

“I can't believe you didn't tell me!” She punched me in the arm.

“Ow! I'm sorry, I've just kind of had my head in the sand, I guess. We just went to see this bluegrass band play downtown. It was fun.”

“Did y'all do it?”

“No, we did not
do it.
We did kiss, though.”

“What was that like?”

“Really nice.” I took a swig of her warm soda. “I'm seeing him again tonight.”

“Oooooooohhhhhhhhh, Ruthie has a boyfriendddd!” she teased. “What are y'all gonna do?”

“No idea. I was thinking about canceling, but I guess I won't.”

“Canceling? Why?”

“It's been an intense couple of days,” I answered. “I feel like just curlin' up into a ball and takin' a break for a little bit.”

“Sweetie, you can do that when you're dead. I'd love to hear what he has to say about your brother.”

“What do you mean?”

Her face froze. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

“Reed, what are you talking about?” Did she know about the weed? Had I told anyone unknowingly?

“Shit. I thought you knew. Or at least had heard the same rumor.”

“What rumor? You're bugging me out.” She stared at the road ahead, refusing to look at me.

“Jesus, Reed! What is it?”

“Okay, fine. I heard he left school.”

“Who left school?”

“David. Your brother. I heard he dropped out about a month into last semester.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Reed? That's impossible. He's still playing soccer.”

“I mean, I don't know the whole story, but I heard it from a sorority sister.”

“How would your sorority sister in Tuscaloosa know about David dropping out in Atlanta?”

“No, not someone at school with me. Someone in my sister sorority at Mercer. We all know everything. It's like the Mafia,” she explained matter-of-factly.

I stared out the window. “I love how you're being so blasé about this. Just dropping this bomb on me like my brother secretly dropping out of school happens every day.”

“Wass, come on, this may just be a crazy rumor. I thought you knew. And by the way, people dropping out of college
is
something that happens every day.”

“Not to us! Not to David Wasserman especially. C'mon, Reed, what about soccer? His scholarship?”

“Honey, I really don't know.” She made a left into our neighborhood. “I'm just telling you what I heard, which unfortunately involved no details whatsoever.” She glanced over at me and put her hand on my knee. “Want to come over?”

“No, I should get home.” I sighed.

“Are you pissed at me?”

“No, I'm not, I swear. I'm just confused. I mean, if it is true, my parents are going to go nuts.”

“Like I said, it could very well just be a rumor that someone started.”

“Why would someone make up a rumor that he dropped out of school? How does that make sense?”

“I don't know.” She pulled into my driveway. “Listen, you know how tiny this town is. I mean, you walked into Bootsie's party a couple—okay, a lot—of pounds thinner and everyone and their gramma was convinced that you were a coke whore. It's probably not true. I'll call you later, okay?” I nodded and got out, slamming the door behind me. She began to pull away, but stopped and stuck her head out of the window. “Maybe you could ask Chris if he knows anything?”

“Maybe.” I waved a limp hand in good-bye.

In my bedroom, I shut the door, leaving an outraged Maddie outside. Why would David drop out of school and lie to my parents about it for an entire semester? I mean, my classes weren't easy, but it wasn't like I was a physics major at MIT. How could David's be any harder? And he was smarter than me! A hundred times smarter. He was third in his graduating class. And how had he managed to keep our parents in the dark? These were people who smelled beer on our breath a week before we drank it. And what about soccer? How do you just throw a scholarship in the garbage? Wouldn't there be letters to my parents and meetings with coaches? You couldn't just walk away so neatly, could you?

Or could you? He was walking neatly away from the accident. No one would ever know about the weed, thanks to me. Is this the person David had become? Someone who covered his tracks without a second thought? I flipped over on my stomach and relished the feeling of my ribs pressing into the mattress. No, that wasn't him.

The truth was that the rumor didn't seem so far-fetched. He hadn't spoken about soccer once this summer; he smoked cigarettes and weed, which I had never seen him do before; and he was acting strange and withdrawn—so much so that he had my parents seriously worried. I had taken Psych 101—these were the habits of a stressed-out, possibly depressed person. And maybe he was stressed out and depressed because he had something to hide. I buried my face in my pillow.

M
y shorts felt tighter than they had the last time I'd put them on. The rational me knew that they had just been washed, but the crazy me said that I had gained weight. They battled like two yapping terriers inside my head. There was a knock at the door.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” It was my dad.

“Sure.” I sat up and tried to compose myself. I had managed to avoid my parents and David since M.K. had dropped me off. Investing an obscene amount of time in the way you looked awarded you that privilege. Chris was picking me up in a half-hour.

“Hi,” he said as he entered my room. “You look nice.” He sat down on the bed next to me.

“Thanks. Having a bit of a meltdown. Nothing looks right on me.”

“Ruth, everything looks great.”

“Righto.” I rolled my eyes. “How's it going?”

“Fine. I'm handling a tough case at the office right now, so today was a pain in the neck.”

“Oh yeah, what about?”

“Just a family contesting their dead mother's will. Ugly stuff.” He shuddered. “But I wanted to talk to you about the accident.”

“Dad, I thought we went over this. What else is there to say?”

“You're right, you're right, there's nothing else to say right now. I just wanted to know if the board had made any moves yet.”

“We have a meeting tomorrow night.”

“Who's we?”

“Me, David, Jason, and the board, Dad. God.”

“I don't know why you're so annoyed with me. I'm asking you pretty basic questions here.”

I rubbed my temples. “I know. I guess I'm just anxious about everything.”

“Did anything happen that you're not telling me about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what you think I mean.”
Sure, two things to be exact. One, David smoked a bowl of weed about ten minutes before he assumed the stand, and two, it is entirely possible that he's dropped out of school and has been lying to you for an entire semester.

“No!” I exhaled sharply. “What is this,
Law and Order
? You're my dad, not a private fucking detective.” My internal Jacuzzi of nerves pumped bubbles of heat through my bloodstream.

“Your mouth is like a sewer!” He shook his head. “I thought you were an English major. You can't think of a better adjective?” He paused. “So you're sure? Nothing with David?”