31
RUBY
“Where have you been?” My mother’s voice cuts through my happy haze before I’ve even made it all the way through the front door.
Watching Morgan run? Fucking awesome. Coming home after? Kill me now.
“Well?” she says, her hands on her hips.
“You scared me.” The dogs yip and paw at me while I set my car keys on the counter. “What are you doing home? Don’t you have work?”
“I asked you a question first. Where’ve you been, Ruby Gold?” I hate when she uses my middle name. Hate it with a passion. She claims she named me that because I was so precious to her. Right. “And don’t say you were with that lacrosse boy, because I saw him down the road with Marcus tonight, and you weren’t there.”
“Nowhere,” I answer, the hair on my neck prickling over the fact that she’s been checking up on me. “Just around. But why are you still here?”
She perches herself on the edge of her recliner, where Chuck is asleep, the TV still blaring Fox News. There’s a lit cigarette in his hand, and she grabs it and stubs it out all nonchalant. Like it’s not a big deal he could’ve burned the whole place down.
“I’m taking a little time off,” Mom says, jutting out her chin, daring me to question her. I don’t bother. I’ve been on this earth long enough to know that “taking a little time off” means she got fired or laid off again.
I sigh and head for my room, trailed by the dogs. Their incessant barking adds to my frustration. Mom follows after, her foot catching my door when I try to shut it.
“Don’t you walk away from me, girl.”
“What was it this time? Skip work too much to hang out with your waste-case boyfriend?” I immediately regret saying it. It’s rarely her fault when this happens. She’ll work herself to the bone if she has to. It’s just the nature of the business. There are only so many cleaning contracts to go around, which means she has to keep switching agencies for hours. And when things dry up, the last one in is the first one out. Mom is always the last one in these days.
“What is the matter with you?” she asks, raising her voice enough to tell me she means it.
“Where should I start?” I snap. “We have no money, and now you don’t even have a job!” And I don’t know why I can’t stop. I’m poking the bear tonight, but something about sitting one row behind Morgan’s perfectly perfect family today has me riled up.
I meet her eyes just in time for her palm to connect with my cheek. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”
I put my hand to my cheek, my nostrils flaring with anger. “That fucking hurt.”
“So do words.” She walks to my closet, flips through the dresses, and then flings one at me. It lands with a thump and a rustle on my bed. “Do you know what I go through just so you can have the kind of chances that I never did? How much I sacrifice?”
“I never asked you—”
“I’m your mother. It’s my job.” Her whole demeanor changes then, as she morphs back into my sweet, tired mom, her beauty-queen smile adorning her face. “Put that on, baby, I want to see you walk.”
And I hate it. I hate that she slaps me one second and calls me “baby” the next. I hate how bad I wish I could make her happy, how every angry word feels like my fault.
“Okay,” I say softly, even though I’m exhausted. This is the quickest way to end the argument, the only way really.
My mom helps me into my dress—the evening gown has always been her favorite part—and then pulls out my ponytail. She grabs one of my brushes off my dresser and slowly runs it through my hair. “What were you really up to tonight?” she asks me again, her grip tightening just slightly.
“I was fixing Mrs. Williams’s car.” Not a complete lie. I did stop there after the meet.
“I went down there at six looking for you after I saw the boys drive by. She said you hadn’t been there yet because you were watching some running thing.”
“Oh yeah, I stopped at the track meet on my way to her house. I forgot.”
“Everly doesn’t run, does she? I know Tyler plays lacrosse.”
I swallow hard. “No, they weren’t there.” I turn to look at her. “I just thought it would be cool to check it out. I’ve never been to one. Have you? We could both go sometime. It might be fun.”
Mom looks me straight in the eye, a slight frown pulling at her lips. “I heard a rumor about you today, baby girl, and it better not be true.”
This is bad. This is so bad.
“What did you hear?”
She sets down the brush, taking her time before answering. “I think you know, and I think it has something to do with why you were at that track meet today.” She searches my eyes like she’s looking for an answer or waiting for me to break. Miraculously, I do neither. “I will not have another situation like we did with your little pageant friend. Do you understand?” I nod. “Now put your shoes on and come out,” she says, and storms down the hall.
Shit.
Shit! If someone knows about me and Morgan, if someone said something and it got back to my mom . . . But I can’t worry about that right now. There’s no time. Not when she’s like this.
My shoes wait for me in the closet, two perfect, shiny reminders of how I’m not living up to my mom’s expectations. I strap my feet into them, the memory of Morgan’s wins today turning to ash in my mouth. It was a risk. A stupid risk. Why did I go?
I allow myself one quick minute to wallow, then I stand tall, poised and pageant ready. The sting of my mother’s hand still fresh on my cheek.