Saving Ruth (23 page)

25

I
opened the back door, and the tension suffocated me immediately. There they all were—Mom, Dad, and David—hunched around the kitchen table like zombies. Mom's eyes were red and swollen, and Dad frowned stoically into the gleaming surface of the wood. David's head was in his hands. On the floor beneath them, Maddie lifted her head limply.

“What's going on?” I asked meekly.

“Sit,” Dad instructed. I obeyed, sliding into my usual spot with a thud.

“Did you know about this?” he asked. His eyes blazed with anger.

“Know about what?”

“Oh Jesus, Ruth, don't play dumb!” yelled Mom.

“I heard a rumor a few weeks back.”

“And did you confront David then?” I looked at my brother, his head still in his hands.

“No. I waited.”

“And during any of that time, did you even consider sharing this rumor with us?”

“No, I thought it was just a dumb rumor. There wasn't any reason to share it with anybody.”

“What about when I told you that I was worried about David?” asked Dad. “Was that not a good enough reason to speak up?”

“I don't think I had heard the rumor at that point,” I mumbled.

“But you knew that we were concerned, and still you said nothing.” Mom slapped her hand on the table. “Nothing!”

“Why is this about me?” I cried. “David's the one with the problem.” I stared her down.

“No, this is all of our problem,” said Dad. “This is a family problem. We are a family, goddammit!”

“Listen, I don't know any more about this than you do. I heard a rumor, and then I told David what I had heard. That's it. That's all I know.”

“She's telling the truth,” said David, lifting up his head. “We only spoke about it yesterday, for God's sake.”

“Fine.” Dad sighed heavily. “Ruth, David's been sitting here telling us about the wonderful semester he had pretending to be in school. About all of the wonderful things he did, including forging his report card with his tech geek friend and intercepting letters about his rescinded scholarship. David, do tell us more. Please?” Dad was snarling. His tone reminded me of Mary's when we had met her in Tanisha's hospital room. This was what a threatened parent sounded like—a wounded bear caught in a steel trap.

“David, please, what we just don't understand is why?” asked Mom.

“I told you why. College is not for me right now.”

“Oh, really?” asked Dad. “College is not for you. And I suppose a career is not for you? Or a family that you can support? Or soccer? That's not for you either? Twenty-one years of playing and it's suddenly not for you?”

“Dad, I couldn't even get out of bed in the morning to go to class.”

“What? This is your excuse? You think I wake up every morning dying to get to work?” He laughed maniacally. “That's rich, David. It really is.”

“Sam, please. Calm down for a minute,” interjected Mom. “David, go on. Please.” She covered my dad's hand with her own. “Explain this to us.”

His eyes teared, as did my own. He continued softly.

“It started around October, I guess. I was tired all of the time, and I couldn't understand why. I didn't care about my friends, or going out, or anything. When the alarm went off in the morning, I couldn't get out of bed. I wanted to, but I just couldn't will myself to do it most of the time. And when I did, and forced myself to go to class, I sat there completely uninterested. It was like I was suspended in Jell-O or something.”

“Were you still going to soccer practice?” asked Mom.

“I was, but I was terrible. I couldn't pass the ball. I couldn't take shots on goal—nothing. Coach noticed, of course, but he chalked it up to me just being lazy. Pretty soon I was riding the bench every game, watching the games pass by from the sidelines, feeling listless.”

“Were you angry that the coach benched you?” I asked.

“Not really. Like I said, I was suspended in Jell-O. It was like nothing mattered to me. I couldn't even find the energy to get mad.”

“Didn't you have anybody to talk to?” asked Mom.

“I tried to talk about it, but it all seemed so pointless. And I was scared a little, you know? I didn't recognize myself in the mirror. Nothing was the same.”

“Did you think about going to speak to someone? A psychologist on campus?”

“I thought about it, sure. But I was embarrassed. People who go to shrinks are crazy.” Mom's mouth opened to argue. “I know, I know, that's not true. But that's how I thought about it. I mean, can you imagine Dad going to a shrink? Or any of my friends? It just seemed like a waste of time to me.”

“So what did you do?”

“Well, to be perfectly blunt, I smoked a lot of weed.” My parents' eyes widened to comical proportions.
Here we go.

“You did what?” asked Dad, removing his hand from underneath Mom's and balling it into a fist.

“Shit, I mean, do you want me to be honest here or what? You asked for the story, and I'm telling it to you. Okay?” Dad shook his head. “So that's what I did. And it made me feel better—less alone. And for the record, I have not dropped out, like you all keep saying. I've taken a leave of absence. I spoke to the dean and took care of the shit I needed to take care of.”

“You did?” asked Mom.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Didn't they advise you to see a counselor when you made the request? Or to tell us?”

“They did, and I did go once, but I just couldn't connect with him. I felt like he was condescending and sort of a jerk.”

“So you can re-enroll at any time?” asked Dad.

“Yeah, I can.”

“Did you happen to think about the fact that you'd certainly lose your scholarship, or did that not occur to you?”

“Of course I thought about it, Dad! I thought about it, and then I thought about how fucking miserable I was, and I went ahead with the leave of absence anyway. It's nice to know that money trumps my happiness from your perspective. Real nice. Thanks.”

“You ungrateful little jerk!” Dad yelled. “All those years of driving you to soccer game after soccer game and why? Because you loved it. You told us you loved it. And then, when that kind of passion pays off with a free ride to a reputable college, you throw it down the drain because you're feeling a little low. Perfect.”

“You're an asshole,” replied David.

“Oh really, I'm the asshole! Great. You're forging report cards like Bernie Fucking Madoff and I'm the asshole.”

“Sam, please! Try to calm down,” said Mom. “Really, just take a deep breath, okay? Anger is not going to fix anything here.” She turned back to David. “Which is not to say that I'm not angry as hell too, David. More about your lying than anything else. You still haven't told us why you went to all of this trouble to cover it up. Why not just come clean to us? Why not just call and tell us you needed help?”

“You're asking me that as Dad goes apeshit right here at this table? This is why. You both are why.” Her face crumpled.

“Listen, I know I've screwed up. Obviously, I didn't handle this right. I get that. And that's part of the reason for the lies, I guess. Rather than face you, I thought it would be easier to play it off until I had a better plan. I just couldn't deal with anything. I'm still having a hard time.”

“So why even come home at all this summer?” asked Mom.

“I love coaching. I really do. It was the only thing that I had looked forward to in a long time. Who knows why? At any rate, my plan was to come home and regroup and tell you as soon as I got a better handle on things.” He glanced at me. “But then I saw Ruth, and how she was doing, and I put it off.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Ruth, you're a skeleton. Mom and Dad are crazy worried about you. I just figured my situation on top of yours was too much for them.”

“Oh, so now it's my fault! Fuck you, David. Don't pin this on me.”

“What? It's true.”

I looked at my parents. They stared back sadly.

“What your mother and I can or can't handle is not your problem,” said my dad slowly. “And by the way, we can handle a lot more than you think we can. We're our own people outside of just being your parents. Our own histories, our own screwups, our own reserves of strength.”

“He's right,” agreed Mom. “You've both underestimated us. Of course we worry, that's what parents do, but we also are fully aware that you two are very close to being adults now. Or so we thought, at least.” She sighed. “It's been very hard for us to relinquish control, but we really tried this year. And look what happens—David is a college dropout, and Ruth eats lettuce for breakfast. I mean, Jesus.”

“I didn't drop out!” yelled David. “There's a difference.” We sat in silence as shadows darkened the room.

“I think it's really unfair that you are dragging me into this, David,” I said finally.

“Ruth, I love how you seem to think that your issues are invisible. If anything, mine are the ones that are easily concealed.”

“Yeah, literally,” I said.

“Yours are on display for everyone to see, and still, if anyone brings it up, you act as though you're being persecuted. That's what I don't get about eating disorders. It's like, what the hell do you expect? Your appearance alone begs for help, but God forbid somebody offers it. You freak out, like anyone trying to help is the one who's nuts.”

“So let me get this straight—you're gonna tell me how to deal with the world when you've been hiding in a bong chamber for months?”

“All right, let's just get it all out there,” said Dad. “Ruth, do you know that you have a problem? Do you know that what you seem to see in the mirror is not what everybody else sees?” I was crying now.

“You don't understand,” I sobbed.

“What? What don't we understand?” asked Mom gently.

“I don't want to live like this either, but I also don't know how to stop. I like looking like this.”

David moved his chair closer to mine and put his arm around me. “I'm scared too, Ruth.”

“We love you both so much.” Mom was crying too. She and Dad held hands.

“Dad, how come you sleep in your office?” I asked abruptly.

“What?” he asked, confused by the change of topic.

“You sleep in your office.” I wiped my cheeks. “Are you guys okay?”

“Oh, honey, of course we're okay,” answered Mom. “We've been married almost thirty years is all. Sometimes you want to sleep alone. It's not a big deal.”

“Marjorie, that's not true. If we expect these kids to be honest with us, we have to be honest as well,” said Dad.

“What?” David and I asked together.

“Are you getting a divorce?” I warbled.

“No, no. Not a divorce. But this year has been difficult for us, with both of you out of the house. We're working on it.”

“How?” asked David.

“We just are. Don't worry yourself with how,” said Dad.

“Maybe you guys should look into therapy your own selves,” I offered.

“You're probably right. And we're thinking about it,” said Mom. “We love each other, but we're in a rut.”

“We're all our own people, but we're also a family,” said Dad. “And don't forget that your mom and I have two very distinct and integral roles to play within this family: parent and spouse. You handle it a certain way for eighteen years, and then your kids leave. Suddenly the old system is obsolete. It's not easy.” Mom nodded as she squeezed his hand.

“I guess I never thought about it like that,” I said.

“Of course you didn't, Ruthala. You're nineteen.” She gave me a small smile. “We try not to hold it against you. Honey, I feel like I've been enabling you, and I'm sorry for that. I was afraid that if I yelled at you about your eating, you would retreat completely. And then I'd feel distance from both of my kids,” she explained through her tears. “And I need you. I love you both so much.”

I stood up and walked around to hug her. She was so warm and compact in my arms. “I love you too, Mom.”

“Sit,” she said, pointing to her lap.

“I don't want to crush you.” She looked at me with disbelief. I sat.

“David, do you have any sort of a plan for the future?” asked Dad.

“I'm not really sure what's next for me,” said David. “I know I'm not ready to go back to school yet. I'd like to stay here for the fall, get a job, maybe take a few art classes at Tech. I'll pay for everything.”

“Where do you plan on living?” asked Dad.

“Well, here—if I could. I'd pay rent and stuff.”

“You don't have to pay rent, David. But you do need to start speaking to someone about your depression. Deal?”

“But I've really made some progress this summer on my own. I'm not sure I need to—”

“Is it a deal or not?” Dad interrupted.

“Only if you guys promise to go too. All of you.”

“We promise,” said Mom, glancing at Dad. He nodded.

“Ruth, what about you?” asked Mom.

“I dunno,” I answered. “I only have like, a month and a half left here. Wouldn't it be silly to start seeing someone now?”

“No, not at all, honey. A month and a half is a month and a half. We'll make some calls this week, okay? And we'll find someone for you to talk to in Ann Arbor.” I locked eyes with David, and he gave me a small smile.

“Okay,” I mumbled.

Dad got up with a sigh. “I need a glass of something. Anyone want anything?” He made his way to the kitchen, walking around my now-empty chair. David looked up at him, and suddenly, he was in Dad's arms.

“Hey, hey,” said Dad softly. “We're gonna be okay. We are.”