Saving Ruth (20 page)

I moved my fists out from under me and unclenched them in my lap. What did he know about me?

I wobbled uneasily down the short hallway to Charlene. I made my appointments and left the office in a daze. Outside, the sun's sizzle had subsided.
He does know what he's talking about. He's a doctor. He saw your insides and reported back from the front lines. You're falling apart.

I started the car. How come none of those Hollywood chicks who so obviously starved themselves ever got sick? Where were the magazine covers showing girls with busted teeth and strawlike hair instead of the Photoshopped bullshit they all fed us? I mean, it wasn't like I never ate anything. How could one year destroy all of my teeth? I still got my period, for chrissake. I wasn't even a real anorexic.
Come on, Ruth. One year and your body is breaking down? You don't think he was being a little dramatic?

I wanted a cigarette. I'd drive to the elementary school and go to my usual spot, since handling one behind the wheel would only mean bad things for my mother's upholstery and the road at large.

I turned into my neighborhood and almost directly into a familiar backside trudging up the hill in front of me. I rolled my window down.

“Khaki?”

Her mouth was set in a determined scowl. Purple headphones covered her ears, clashing dramatically with the bright red hue of her face. I honked my horn a few times to no avail. Finally, she turned, with an expression of incredulous irritation. I waved obnoxiously.

“Geez, Ruth!” she said as she removed her headphones. “You scared me.”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going for a walk.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah. Quit grinnin' at me like that! You're freaking me out.”

“Am I? Okay, I'll stop. I'm just so happy to see you, I guess. Out here exercising on your own.”

“It's just a twenty-minute walk. It's not such a big deal.”

“But it is. I'm really impressed. Especially since we already went out this morning.”

“I've been going out twice all week,” she confessed. “Just a little walk in the afternoon. Nothing crazy.” A car pulled up behind me, and I waved for it to go around.

“You look great, Khak. You want a ride home?”

“That kind of defeats the purpose, don't you think?”

“Fair enough, smarty-pants. Get home safe.” She clamped her headphones back on her sweat-soaked head. As I drove off, I watched her in my rearview mirror with a small pit in my stomach. Laney Moorehouse, my own mom, and now me. Did you encourage a kid to diet because you wanted to spare her the taunts and teases, but end up robbing her of any sense of self-worth—fat or thin—in the process? Would Khaki look back on her summer with me fondly, or would she mark it as the beginning of her obsession with every calorie that she consumed? I really wanted to make sure it wasn't the latter. How, was the question.

21

“C
oach Ruth?”

I turned around and lowered my gaze. Tyler rubbed his belly as his Speedo dripped on the concrete below. He looked up at me through long, wet lashes rimmed by the red imprint of his goggles.

“Tyler! Third place, buddy!” I put my hand on his wet head.

“Third place!” he echoed, beaming.

“I'm so proud of you. Your backstroke was terrific. I saw you counting.”

“I didn't bang my head on the wall!”

“You sure didn't. Good job, champ.”

“Hey, Ruthie, guess what?” asked Jason, putting his hands on my shoulders from behind.

“What?”

“Tanisha's mom ain't gonna sue!” I whipped around to face him.

“What?”

“I just heard from Dusty.”

“Get out! That's great news!” I hugged him tightly as the next batch of swimmers plunged into the pool beside us.

“I know it. That was a close one, for sure.”

“What made her change her mind?”

“Dusty said that she decided to nail the Kiddy Kare instead. It's a better case or something.”

“Hey, geeks,” David said, passing by us.

“Did you hear the good news?”

“I did.” He grinned. “I'm so relieved.”
You should be.

“No shit,” agreed Jason.

“Plus, we're actually winning this thing. Did you know that?” His eyes darted back to the pool. “C'mon, Julie, push it!” he yelled and moved on, taking Jason with him. I stood there alone on the pool deck and took a deep breath, letting my gratefulness wash over me.
Thank you
, I whispered. I had been carrying the threat of the lawsuit around like a backpack filled with lead.

“Coach Ruth!” I turned around to find M.K. walking toward me. Her blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and it swung with her as she approached. In the twilight, she could have been twelve again.

“Hey! I was just drivin' by and saw all of the excitement. Figured I'd come down and cheer on the team.”

“Where's your cheerleading outfit?”

“Please, I couldn't even get that past my pinky toe. Maybe I should give it to you. You can grow into it.” She rolled her eyes.

“Derrrrrrrrrr. Good one.” I turned back around to face the pool. “I just got the best news.” She raised her right eyebrow at me. “You know Tanisha's mom?”

“The mom of the girl you saved?”

I nodded. “She's not gonna sue the pool.”

“That's awesome!” She enveloped me in a hug.

“And we're winning!”

“The Sharks are winning? Can this other team not swim or somethin'?”

“Nah. Half of the other team's been wiped out by the chicken pox. But still!” My littlest swimmers were crowded around the heat board, clutching their race cards cluelessly. “Listen, I gotta go take care of them, but stick around. This is the last event, and then maybe we can hang at your house or something?”

“ 'Kay. I'm gonna go buy one of them ring-pops at the concession stand. I used to love those things.”

I jogged over to the heat board.

“Coach Ruth, we're winnin'!” said Tyler. He was so excited that I became concerned he might pee on the ground in front of me.

“I know,” I whispered. “But don't jinx it. Let's just keep up the good work, okay, guys?”

“Okay!” yelled Crystal. She danced around in a circle in her blue swim cap, clutching her pink card with red-tipped fingers.

“Coach Ruth, are you married?” she asked, stopping abruptly.

“No, Crystal, I'm not married.” She looked at me with pity and gave me a consolatory pat on the knee.

“All right, let's go! Over to the blocks!” I stood to the side as they all handed their cards to their timers and climbed on top of the blue-carpeted pedestals. Ali stood at the bottom of hers with her lip trembling.

“Hey, Ali, what's the matter?” I asked, kneeling down.

She shook with tears as she looked at me with blue eyes. “I don't wanna do butterfly,” she whimpered. “I hate it.”

“Ali, I know you can do this. You've been doing so well in practice. You've come so far. Are you sure you don't want to do it?” Her shaking continued.

“It's okay if you don't wanna, baby. You can do it next meet.” I reached for her hand. Her shaking was now a slight tremble, and her tears had stopped.

“You think I can do it?” she asked softly.

“I really do,” I answered. “The way you've been practicin', I know you can.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I'll do it.”

“That's my girl!” I kissed her on the cheek and held her hand as she ascended her throne.

As the announcer yelled “Go!” they threw themselves off the blocks with unabashed enthusiasm. It didn't matter how many times you went over the starting dive when they were this young. They were just so excited to get into the water—it didn't matter whether it was a full-fledged belly flop or a jump or a cannonball or even a recognizable relative of the dive. As long as they were wet, they were happy.

Ali butterflied her way down the pool with surprising precision, and I did a little victory dance in my head. Seeing her tiny body undulating like a dolphin as she made her way toward the wall, her head and arms breaking through the water with strength and confidence, made me swell with pride and happiness.
I taught her that.

After the last heat had swum, David and I gathered the team under the tent and waited for the scores. We held court in the middle of our circle of toweled kids. The last I'd checked, we were ahead, but the idea that we might actually have won the meet was so far-fetched that I couldn't fully conceive it. I looked around at all of them and felt a surge of maternal protectiveness.

“Is this thing on?” Jason asked into the microphone. “Testing, one, two—”

“It's on!” yelled David.

“Oh good. Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I wanna thank y'all for comin' out tonight, especially the Bayside Barracudas.” He paused to clap, and we all joined in reluctantly.

“Just announce it already,” I muttered.

“The scores have been tallied, and I had to read this twice I was so surprised, but I'm happy to say that the Sharks have won! Congratulations, y'all! You won a swim meet!” The circle erupted in squeals and shouts of victory. I surprised my own self by jumping up and down. Suddenly I felt arms around me. It was David, hugging me with all of his might.

“We did it!” he yelled.

“We did!” I yelled back. I felt like we were little again. There were no secrets and no resentment—just unabashed love for the person who always had your back. My legs were soon being hugged by what felt like thousands of little hands, and my shorts were practically being tugged off.

“Coach Ruth, we did it! We won!” my guppies yelled. Even the sullen teenagers were jumping around like maniacs, high-fiving me and David with abandon. Hands grabbed me under my armpits and another set took my feet. I craned my head back to see Jason laughing maniacally.

“Ready to take a victory lap, Ruthie?” he teased.

“Nooooo,” I screamed in protest. Julie had my feet.

“Let's go, girl! In the pool with ya!” I looked around for David. Kevin, Derrick, and Mike were carrying him.

“Dude, take off my shoes! Please!” he begged.

“No way, man. All or nothin'!” They carried us kicking and screaming to the pool.

The kids surrounded us and started chanting, “Coach Ruth! Coach David! Coach Ruth! Coach David!”

“One, two, three!” they yelled in unison as they threw us both into the deep end. I hit the water laughing. Once I was under, I looked around for David. He floated in front of me, smiling. I felt optimistic for the first time in weeks. Maybe we could get past this summer and have a stronger relationship because of it. Maybe all of this—his being high and dropping out of school—was in my head. And even if it wasn't, and both things were true, why did it have to affect us? Why couldn't I accept that our former closeness was born out of circumstance and that as we got older our connection would require more work? He swam up to the surface, the white and green of his sneakers scissoring eerily through its silent depths.

I followed. As I broke through, the noise reverberated in my eardrums. Screams and laughter were punctuated by splash after splash as everyone joyously hurled themselves into the pool with us. I closed my eyes and tread water for a second, before the inevitable barrage of flailing hands and feet pulled me under again.

22

“C
ynthia!” I stopped midstride to greet her. She was gardening in her front yard.

“Ruth! I thought I was the only one up this early.” She rose to her feet and smiled at me from beneath the brim of her straw hat.

“It's the only time of day I can even think about running.” I panted. “It's too damn hot otherwise.”

“Indeed, it is. Here, let me run inside and get you some water.”

“No, that's oka—”

“Not another word. Follow me.” She led the way down her driveway, which was flanked on both sides by lush, green bushes.

“Your yard is gorgeous,” I said, regaining my breath.

“Oh, aren't you sweet. Thanks. Gardenin' is my passion. Used to be men, but those days are long gone.” She opened her back door and went inside. “Well, c'mon now, don't be shy,” she said a moment later, sticking her head out of the door with a look of impatience. I joined her in the kitchen, embarrassed by my own awkwardness.

Cynthia's sun-drenched kitchen was refreshingly devoid of sports paraphernalia, porcelain cows, or wooden ducks. It was large and airy with a giant, birch island in the middle. Copper pots hung from the ceiling. A green apple sat on a cutting board, sliced down the middle.

“Here you go.” She handed me the water. “Thank you so much,” I said after I had finished it in one gulp.

“Here, let me get you one more.” She walked to the faucet. “So, I'm sure you heard the good news about Mary,” she said with her back to me.

“Yes! It is such good news. I'm so happy she's not gonna sue. I was so worried.”

“You and me both, darlin'.” She handed me my refill and took a seat at the glass-topped white wicker table. “Come,” she offered, pulling a chair out. “Just for a minute.”

I sat down, gratefully. “Cynthia?”

“What's that?”

“I had an idea. Tell me if you think I'm nuts.”

“With pleasure.”

“I was thinking about offering Tanisha swim lessons. So she wouldn't be scared of the water.” I had been tossing the thought around in my head for a week, and it felt good to say it aloud.

“Ruth, that's a lovely idea.” She looked me in the eye. “I'm not sure her mama is gonna be up for it, but I certainly think you should talk to her about it.”

“You do? You don't think I'd be overstepping my bounds? Or swirling the pot again?”

“You might get a gentle swirl goin' for a minute, but nothin' good ever came out of still waters.”

“Is that true?”

Cynthia laughed. “I don't know! I swear, some of the things that come out of my mouth these days are ridiculous.”

I laughed too. “But it sounded good!”

“Didn't it, though?” She clapped her hands. “You need her mama's number, don't you?”

“I do.”

“Well, it's your lucky day, Ruth. I have it in my office. I'll go get it for you. Worst-case scenario, she tells you to take a flyin' leap, but somethin' tells me she won't.”

“Y
ou workin' today?” I looked up from stretching on the family room floor to find David looming over me.

“Naw,” I said “I have the day off, actually.”

“Lucky.” He stretched to the ceiling. “It's so nice not to have to coach this morning. I'm glad we gave those little fuckers the morning off.”

“I still can't believe we actually won a meet,” I replied, extending my hand for help up. He pulled me to my feet and proceeded to the kitchen. Should I tell him about my decision to call Mary?

“I know, right? It's a miracle.” He peered into the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. No, I wanted to keep it to myself. Why should he get to keep all the secrets?

“You working this morning?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He poured juice into his glass. “Hey, remember when Dad would pour us juice when we were little? He would hold it way up high but still manage to hit the cup?” He smiled broadly at me.

“Never spilled a drop. I used to think that was the coolest thing.”

“I know, like a superpower or something.” He took a large gulp. “Must be cool to be a dad. When your kids are little, at least.”

“Yeah, then they grow up to be assholes.” I sat down next to him at the table.

“Hey, Ruth?”

“Yeah?” My pulse quickened. Would he tell me now? About school?

“You've got a giant eye booger in the corner of your left eye.”

“Great, thanks.” I got up.

“What? I thought I was helping you out!” I walked out of the kitchen. “What?” he called after me. I peeled my running clothes off and got into the shower. Why couldn't I just ask him outright about dropping out? I wasn't sure what I was afraid of exactly. If it was a rumor, would he be upset that I had been gullible enough to buy it? And if it wasn't a rumor, how was me knowing going to change anything? The water cascaded down my face. Chris was picking me up in an hour. Today was our beach date. With my eyes closed, I smoothed my stomach down with both hands, as if willing it to be perfectly flat could make it so.

Later, in my room, I angled my mirrored closet doors so that I could get the 360-degree view. The red straps of my swimsuit cut into my back, causing my flesh to swell over them. I began to panic.
Breathe, Ruth
, I said to myself, as my body temperature rose.

Lightheaded and dizzy, I crossed to my bed, sat on it, and put my head between my hands. The rational Ruth said that those were not flesh swells at all, but rather what happened when any human being pressed something tightly against their skin. The crazy Ruth barely could see the straps—her skin puffed like a hot dog bun around each one. I wore this dumb swimsuit every day in front of an entire pool of people, and yet today felt like the first day I had put it on somehow. Yeah, right, I'd be going bikini shopping with M.K. and Jill. That would be the day. I eyed my midsection as I slumped over. A roll of fat puffed out defeatedly beneath my breasts. I sat up straight, and it all but disappeared. With a few careful readjustments of the suit's fabric, it did disappear. Even the crazy Ruth saw that. I exhaled deeply. Was I blow-drying my hair and putting makeup on now? For a day at the beach? The asshole quotient on that decision was huge, but then again—this was a date. And the idea was to distract from the body in the bathing suit, not make it the center of attention. Maddie padded in and eyed the hair dryer in my hand warily.

“You're right, this is stupid.” I placed it back on my vanity table and slicked my wet hair back into a bun. I needed to relax. I also needed to eat something. My plan had been to try to skip breakfast altogether, but seeing stars every time I turned my head was a recipe for disaster in the hot sun. Crazy Ruth and rational Ruth actually agreed on that.

I pulled a tank top and some cutoffs on over my suit and slipped my feet into my flip-flops. Wait, earrings! Hoop earrings. My Beyonce at the beach look. I inserted them into my ears, stuffed a towel and a change of underwear and bra into my bag, and looked at my clock. I had twenty minutes. I had to eat.

Tossing my bag onto the couch, I made a beeline for the refrigerator. I grabbed my cereal and the milk and set the bowl clattering down on the counter.

The back door opened, and my mom entered the kitchen, her wet hair clinging to her scalp like Saran wrap.

“It has to be 110 degrees out there,” she huffed. She grabbed a glass and filled it under the faucet. “Sweet Jesus, it is so hot.” She took off her glasses and placed them gingerly on the counter. “You headed to work, Ruthie?”

“No, I have the day off. I'm headed to the beach.”

“Oh, nice. Bring water, for goodness' sake. With the girls?”

“No, with Chris,” I mumbled.

“Ooh!” My mom put her glasses back on with delight. “Well, have fun.” She took a giant sip. “And lose the earrings, honey. They look ridiculous.”

“S
o, how've you been? Saved any more lives since I last saw you?” yelled Chris, over the air hurtling by us. We had the top down on his Jeep. Although the wind kept the scorch of the sun at bay, and it was invigorating to ride shotgun in this open advertisement for coolness, my hair was a different story.
Freedom!
it cried as it curled and swirled. Plus, having a conversation was hopeless. We could barely hear the radio, and it was cranked to an obscene decibel.

I made a thumbs-up sign. “It's impossible to talk in this wind!” I yelled.

“What?” he yelled back.

“
Too loud!
” He nodded and took a hand off of the wheel to make a circle over his head with his hand.

“You wanna put the top up?” he screamed.

“No way!” I smiled as convincingly as I could as my hair blinded me. I was not going to be the girly girl who couldn't take an hour or two of gale-force winds. Nossir. I was footloose and fancy-free. One of those girls from rom-coms who watches football and eats chicken wings for breakfast, but still has a soft, sensitive side—maybe plays gin rummy with her grandmother in a nursing home three times a week, or runs a foster care program for abused dogs out of her basement. Yep, that was me. A contradiction in terms.

“
There's a hat in the back!
” he yelled.

“
A cat in the what?
”

“
A hat! A hat!
” He pointed to his own, which advertised a fishing rodeo.

“
Oh, a hat!
” I smiled gratefully, although he wouldn't have known it through the curtain of frizz that now covered my entire face. I reached into the back and retrieved a beat-up Atlanta Braves cap that was wedged beneath one of the seats. I knew this hat. Chris and David had both returned from their seventh-grade trip to Six Flags with them, refusing to actually wear them in public until they were properly broken in. For months you could find the two of them in David's room playing video games and training the rigid brims to round themselves just so, running their hands around the perimeter of the caps like deranged potters. I jammed it onto my head now, marveling at the memory. Would I ever in a million years, as I snuck glances at Chris on the sly, have imagined that I would one day be wearing that hat on my way to the beach with him? Without David? Never.

What was going to come of this, whatever it was that we were doing? I was going back to Michigan in less than two months, and he was staying here. I snuck a glance at him in his Wayfarers and cap, his dark hair curling around his brown neck, and I decided that I would try my best just to relish what was happening now. It was best for everyone not to think beyond the summer. Then again, I was the girl whose lunch on Monday affected her dinner on Thursday, so it was easy to doubt my conviction to stay rooted in the present.

We whipped our way toward the water, and I enjoyed the easy silence, the salty air, and the happy sun bouncing on the horizon. Seagulls cawed and pelicans swooped lazily overhead. Church signs offering cringe-worthy reasons to read the Bible whizzed by us.
Jesus will save you!
they cried.
Salvation is within! And don't forget the bake sale!
You'd never see a sign like that in front of a synagogue. Or would you?
Did you call your mother today?
one might ask.
Enough with this rain!
would cry another.

Finally, the Gulf greeted us; its warm, grayish waters gently lapping at the white shore in the heat. The sand shone like sea salt. We drove away from the main thoroughfare and parked. Chris put his hand on my leg, and I blushed underneath the brim of my hat.

“You okay?” he asked, with a grin.

“Perfect.” I smiled back. “That was a great ride.” He leaned in to kiss me.

“Been wantin' to do that since I picked you up.” He pushed my brim up gently to see my face. “You look pretty cute in that hat.”
Don't be a smart-ass, Ruth. Take the compliment.

“Thanks. You too.”

“All right, let's get on the beach. I brought a little cooler—just some drinks and snacks and stuff.” He jumped out of the Jeep and reached into the back.

“Look at you! A regular Martha Stewart.” I got out and stretched.

“That's me. Got some crustless sandwiches and homemade potato chips. Them tiny lemon cookies too.”

“You do not!”

He laughed. “Nah, I'm playin'. Just some beers and chips. Hope that's okay.”

“It's perfect.” We began our walk to the water. “You had me going there for a minute, though.” Our flip-flops slapped the bleached wood of the boardwalk until we reached sand. I took them off and submerged my feet into its infinite warmth.

“Nothing like a lil' sand between the toes,” I said, smiling.

“Yeah, until it starts to burn your feet to a crisp around noon.” We smiled and made small talk as we set up our camp. I reached for the towel in my bag.

“I brought a sheet,” he offered shyly, pulling it out of his backpack.

“You thought of everything!” My heartbeat quickened as I imagined lying next to him, practically naked with nothing separating us.

“Well, it's a date. You gotta do things right if you want to impress the ladies.” He gave me a wink. Underneath his bravado, I could sense his nervousness as well. Maybe I would drink a beer. I touched my stomach.

“Why do you always do that?” he asked, setting the sheet in place by sitting the cooler on one corner and his bag on the other. I put my bag and towel on the remaining two. A perfect square of baby blue looked up at us.

“Do what?” I stood there awkwardly, nervous about disrobing.

“You brush your stomach like you're pushing it off of you. Like this.” He demonstrated by placing his hand underneath his chest and pushing it down across his flat abdomen.

“I do?”

“You didn't know that?” He took off his hat, and his hair gripped his skull like a yarmulke with wings. “It's cute.”