Robin And Ruby Part 20

Down the dimly lit hallway, Robin spies a scrawny boy in black knocking steadily against a closed door, repeating Ruby's name in a soft, plaintive voice. So this is Chris. It takes all the will Robin can muster not to shove him to the ground, like he did Douglas.

"I'm her brother," he announces.

"Oh, hey." Chris squints at him. "I can see the resemblance."

"You definitely want to move out of my way now." Chris does so, and Robin takes his place at the door. "Ruby? It's me. It's Robin. Will you let me in?"

There's some shuffling and mumbling from inside. The toilet flushes. Then the door pushes open just a crack, and a girl peeks out.

"Hi, I'm Cicely."

"Great to meet you, Cicely."

She seems to register the edge in his voice, seems to take this as a cue to let herself out. In a tone that reminds him of hospital nurses speaking in bone-chilling euphemism, Cicely says, "It's been a little b.u.mpy in there."

He steps forcefully into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, banis.h.i.+ng Chris to the hall with the click of the lock.

She's on the floor, at the base of the toilet, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

She's not moving, and for a moment he isn't sure she's breathing. Then, from beneath her limp black bangs, her gla.s.sy eyes seem to fix upon him. She wipes her lips with a finger.

Robin catches his breath. Good. OK. She's OK.

Her clothes are splashed with what he hopes is water and not puke. He doesn't even want to think about the soiled floor she's sprawled upon. There's nothing resembling a clean towel anywhere. He's disgusted to find her like this. How did this happen? How could she let herself? But then she says, "It's you you," and there's a lilt of wonderment in her voice that completely dissolves his fury.

"Yeah, me." His throat constricts, emotion caught there, hard to swallow. He helps her sit up.

Miraculously, there's a fresh roll of toilet paper on the back of the tank. He wraps a soft, thick wad around his hand, dampens it in the sink, and pats down Ruby's face. She feels warm and dry, almost feverish. "You need some water."

"I haven't had any."

"Maybe that's why you're so sick." The plastic cup in the toothbrush holder has about a inch of brown liquid in it. He dumps it into the sink. The frayed end of a cigarette b.u.t.t spills out, joining the other cigarette b.u.t.ts already dissolving against the porcelain like dark, tiny worms. He rinses the cup, doing his best to scrub it out, even without soap, then fills it. "Don't sip," he tells her. "Gulp." He looks at her throat as the water pa.s.ses into her. Sees her start to revive. He feels in this moment more clearheaded than he has all day, all weekend, maybe for even longer than that: The ability to help someone clearly in need seems to organize all the confusion of the world into simple, identifiable tasks.

From somewhere in the house comes the sudden noise of a scuffle. Voices are raised, chairs sc.r.a.pe the floor, something crashes into something else. Calvin is shouting. Chris is shouting back. Then George's voice breaks in, commanding, "Hey! Hey!" and there's an abrupt, loud, hollow thud that could be the impact of a body against a wall, followed by a piercing scream from one of the girls.

"What's that?" Ruby asks.

"Don't worry," Robin says, though he hopes it's Calvin beating the h.e.l.l out of Chris.

"I can't stay here with these people," she says.

"I'm with George. We have his car."

"We have to..." She mumbles words that he can't make out, but when he doesn't respond, she clears her throat and repeats, "We have to go to the grave." "We have to go to the grave."

"OK," he says. "One thing at a time."

"Did I tell you 'bout the last time I went to Jackson's grave?"

"I don't know, Ruby. Can we talk about this later?"

She bobs her head in apparent agreement, though he sees some complicated pain in her eyes, some unexpressed emotion pa.s.sing across her face. Then she says, "Chris."

"What about him?"

"He needs me."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"He does does. You don't understand." One hand on the lip of the sink, she pulls herself up, shaking off Robin's hand when he tries to help.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and he sees so clearly what Chris had just noticed, how much they resemble each other. There are traces of each of their parents in both of their faces, arranged in different proportions. They'll always have this similarity, this undeniable bond that marks them as brother and sister. And then he sees that there's a tiny bite mark above her collarbone, and another scratch on her neck, a little pink welt, and he feels himself pull away from her, resisting that bond. Maybe she notices, because her expression changes, too. She comes to alertness, steeling herself against him. So she's serious about this boy. It doesn't make any sense to Robin, because if it weren't for Chris, would she even be in this state right now? She's acting against her own interests, he's sure of it, which means that right now he simply knows better than her. It's a feeling that's more parental than brotherly.

"You wash up," he says, heading back into the hallway. "I'll deal with Chris."

As he makes his way toward the kitchen he hears sobbing.

Alice stands near the refrigerator, weeping into Cicely's chest, as the larger girl runs a comforting hand through her hair. The other boy is there, the c.o.ked-out nail-biter. When he sees Robin, he announces, "All h.e.l.l just broke loose," with just enough of a wicked smile on his face to send a s.h.i.+ver down Robin's spine. His eyes dart to the dining room, where the s.h.i.+rtless boy is picking up chairs that have been knocked over. There's a National Enquirer National Enquirer spread open to a headline reading "Rock Hudson's Secret Life." A rolled ten-dollar bill rests on top of it. A spattering of b.l.o.o.d.y Mary gives the place the look of a ma.s.sacre. spread open to a headline reading "Rock Hudson's Secret Life." A rolled ten-dollar bill rests on top of it. A spattering of b.l.o.o.d.y Mary gives the place the look of a ma.s.sacre.

"Where's Chris?" Robin asks.

Alice breaks from her wailing. "He's never allowed back here again!"

Cicely adds, "Calvin kicked him out."

"What the f.u.c.k kind of party is this?" Robin asks. "Someone should call the f.u.c.king cops on you."

Alice's eyes go wide. "They've already been here once."

"When?"

"In the middle of the night."

"Did anyone happen to tell them that my sister was missing?"

Alice leans back into Cicely and resumes her sobbing. Cicely shakes her head reproachfully, glaring at Robin.

The nail-biter says, "Your sister sure knows how to stir up trouble."

"Don't say one f.u.c.king word about her," Robin answers. "Not a word."

In the living room, he finds George sitting on the couch alongside Calvin, who is applying pressure to his nose with a bloodstained dishrag. "I don't think you broke it," George is saying. "Keep the pressure on."

"It hurts," Calvin says.

"I want to take my sister home," Robin says, stepping closer to George.

"To Manhattan?"

"No, I think to Greenlawn. For starters, anyway."

"Aren't you supposed to be back at work tomorrow?"

"I can't think about that right now," Robin says, though what he's thinking, and what George likely realizes, too, is that if Robin doesn't show up, he'll be fired. Probation violated, end of story. A chain reaction of consequences tumbles forth from there: no rent money, no way to stay in Philly without a job, no more living with George.

He says, "I can't let any of these boys drive Ruby home. No way."

"It's cool, I get it," George says.

"So you'll take us?"

George nods. "I'm with you." There's sweat on his brow, the sheen of whatever effort he just expended.

Robin puts his hand on George's shoulder. "I'm sorry about all of this. I'm sorry I keep having to find reasons to say I'm sorry." He feels himself just barely holding back everything tender he wants to express. This is no time for emotion, here in this room, amid this chaos.

From behind them, Calvin's voice: "I think it stopped."

Robin pivots to see him standing, his nose crusted in blood, a smear of crimson on his cheek. And then he sees that Calvin is staring across the room. At Ruby.

She stands in the hallway, pale and quiet, a ghostly version of herself. Her eyes dart about nervously.

Calvin stares at her. "We gotta talk, Ruby."

"My bag is still in your car," she says.

"Come with me. I'll drive you back to the city."

"I can't go with you."

"Why not?"

Robin steps between them. "Ruby, I don't want you leaving my sight. George is driving us back to Greenlawn."

Calvin throws his arms wide, raises his voice melodramatically. "So that's it? 'Get my bag, Calvin.' And then I just sit here bleeding? Ruby, where the f.u.c.k have you been? With that guy? That maniac? What the f.u.c.k?"

Robin says, "Calvin, don't push it." But he sees that Ruby hasn't flinched, even in the face of this outburst.

"I apologize," she says.

"Great. That's f.u.c.king great. I'm sorry, too, Ruby, I'm sorry I ever got involved with a b.i.t.c.h like you." He spins around, almost a full rotation, as Robin had seen him do back at the bar, his frustration like an involuntary spasm. "You, too. f.u.c.k off, Robin."

Robin calls after him, but Calvin is already out the door and down the steps, his long legs taking him quickly away. Ruby follows Calvin with her eyes, and Robin sees how unnervingly calm she is, how seemingly without remorse at the end of this relations.h.i.+p. She lets her gaze travel once again across the wreckage of the party, like she's committing the place to memory. The finality of this is almost chilling.

He tells her to stay put, tells George to remain here with her, and then he heads out the door after Calvin, promising to return with Ruby's bag.

On the sidewalk he has to jog to catch up, and by the time he gets to Calvin, he's winded.

"Slow down."

"Why should I?"

"Come on." Robin pulls out his cigarettes, waves them at Calvin. This does the trick; at last he stops. "Look, you did a good thing," Robin says, lighting one for each of them, remembering his lessons: become like the person you need to impress become like the person you need to impress. "I know this is messed up, I know you're p.i.s.sed-"

"She's rejecting me. That's what's going on. For that slime bag. You have no idea what that feels like."

Robin exhales and says, "Actually, I just got dumped yesterday."

"Really?" Calvin looks him in the eye. "That guy, the one I met at your play?"

"Yeah, that one. And for all I know he's off with someone else already."

"That's so unfair," Calvin moans.

It is is unfair, Robin thinks. But there sometimes seems to be a finite amount of fairness in the world, as if no one can gain unless someone else loses, all of them kept in cruel balance with each other. unfair, Robin thinks. But there sometimes seems to be a finite amount of fairness in the world, as if no one can gain unless someone else loses, all of them kept in cruel balance with each other.

"For all I know, Peter did me a favor. Maybe Ruby's doing you a favor."

Calvin waves dismissively and resumes walking down the street, at last locating his car, a newish Saab parked too close to the corner. A parking ticket is stuck under the wipers. "f.u.c.king great," Calvin mumbles, throwing the ticket into the front seat, where it lands on another one. "I'll just send that to your sister."

He pops the trunk and pulls out a bag. Robin recognizes it as one he gave to Ruby for her birthday, black leather bands around gray canvas, still in good shape. He remembers writing in the card: "For your next adventure." He'd imagined her traveling overseas, or maybe out west, to California, anywhere beyond New York and New Jersey, where she's spent her entire life.

Calvin is staring at the bag as if he wants to plant a bomb in it and send it back to Ruby with a ticking timer inside.

"Calvin, I'm sure there's someone else for you, a better fit. I'm sure."

"Right. Like anyone would go out with me." He slumps against the car, puffing at the cigarette.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"People hate me."

"Come on."

"It's not a big f.u.c.king secret. I can handle it, you know? I'm an outsider."

"I don't hate you. You can be a big baby, like you're being now-" Calvin frowns, and Robin adds quickly, "-but you're a good person. You did a good thing, calling me, searching for Ruby. Just because she's not grateful doesn't mean it wasn't the right thing to do."

"What kills me is she spent the night with that guy. She probably gave it up for him."

Robin exhales. "Calvin, you'll have some good s.e.x in your life, don't worry." He rests his hand on Calvin's arm, wanting to calm him down, and wanting to get back to the house.

Calvin stares at Robin's hand, long enough that Robin has to wonder what exactly he's thinking. Then Calvin says quickly, "You know I'm bis.e.xual?"

Robin coughs. He almost loosens his grip, then decides to hold steady. "You are? I mean, sure, I kind of figured-"