A cup of hot tea sounded wonderful to Sandy. “No, thanks. Can’t stay too long. Must get to my next call.”
“Oh, please don’t go. What can I do to make you stay?”
Sandy glanced casually around the room. “So, big Toby is incarcerated and little Toby lives with you.” She wished he’d come home now so she could get a look at him. See how well he matched up with Abby.
“Incarcerated, meaning caged or confined. Of course, I know that one. Three years ago, Moron #1 was in the garage cleaning one of those antique pistols of his. Told him I’d clean the damn thing for him. I used to clean my daddy’s guns. Real men don’t need help cleaning guns, he said just before firing a slug through his leg. I ask you, how can you clean a revolver without emptying the cylinder first? When the medical emergency people came out from town to patch him up, they noticed a big shiny chest of mechanic's tools sitting there in the garage, must have been five feet high and bright red. Reported as stolen, they claimed. Pulled five years for that.”
Ruth lit another cigarette. “I had to start the beatings when Little Toby was younger. He went through a dirty picture phase. I’d find stuff under his mattress. Just imagine, under the kid’s mattress—the one place no mother would ever think of looking. So I’d have to beat him. Sure you don’t want some tea? Every week I’d throw out the girlie magazines and the next week there’d be something worse under there. I’d have to beat him again. You know, big Toby ran a garage once and had nudie pinups hanging all over, but nothing as bad as they got on daytime TV these days.”
“Sometimes a child must be disciplined,” Sandy said going along with it. She stood and started walking around the room pretending to be interested in the knickknacks. She looked down the hall off the living room. All the doors were closed. If the younger Toby had kidnapped Jamie and brought her here, then his mother must be in on it.
“You’d think he’d have grown up. I still have to give him a whack now and then.” Her attention was now divided with the TV.
“For dirty pictures?” Sandy quietly opened the nearest door in the hall. It was an empty bedroom.
“No, he outgrew all that girly stuff, spends all his time on his computer now. Somehow, he met this Abby. That’s when I started to believe in miracles.”
“Tell me about Abby.” The next door she opened was a bathroom.
“Hasn’t had many dates. Almost thirty and afraid of women.”
“Hard to figure,” Sandy walked back to the living room. “Nice house. How many bedrooms do you have?”
“Three.” Ruth leaned back puffing. She appeared pleased someone was in her house. “It’s my fault. I knew he wasn’t quite right in the head. Should have taken him to a doctor to find out what was wrong with him instead of trying to cure him by myself.”
“Do you have a bathroom I can use?”
“Sure, down the hall there, you’ll see it.” She chuckled. “Don’t steal anything.”
Sandy tried the other doors in the hall. All were empty. Basements were rare in Florida. Could Jamie be in the attic? More likely the garage.
In an extra loud voice she called out, “You can call me Sandy, got that, I’m Sandy. Did I tell you that?” She went in the bathroom. She placed her ear against the wall and listened. Nothing. She flushed and returned to the living room. “Will your son be back soon?”
“Anytime. You know, I shouldn’t have mentioned I have to beat him. You gonna turn me in for doing that?”
“Not my department.” Sandy gestured and said, “So your kitchen’s over here, nice and big. Is that the door to the garage?”
“The breezeway to the garage.”
She quietly tried the door when Ruth wasn’t looking. Locked. Sandy returned to the living room. Ruth was sitting on the couch looking down at her hands. “You’re going to leave me alone again, aren’t you?”
She was shaking slightly and appeared about to cry. She raised her head a moment and clicked off the TV. Sandy was afraid of what was coming, so she tried to sound upbeat, “So you do crosswords. You have to be smart to do crosswords.”
Ruth’s head went back down. She appeared distressed. “Since you’re pretty you probably never hate yourself.”
“Sure I do, sometimes,” Sandy said quickly, hoping it would stop there. “And you’ve going to have that new super TV to watch. Are there other things you’d like? Do you have a wish list?”
“What’d be the point?”
“So, have you lived here long?”
The woman ignored the question. “Sometimes I’m a strong woman, sometimes I’m weak.” She said in a low voice, talking to the floor. “No, that’s a lie. I’m never strong. Look at me. No, don’t look at me. I never should have let you in. Seeing you makes me think about my own life. You’ve got it all. Jesus, you absolutely have the entire world in your soft little hands. You can go anywhere and do anything. You could walk out that door, drive to the airport, and fly across the country. Come back tomorrow. Come back next year. So what. I could kill you just out of envy. Never had much of a life and what I had the damn men ruined. Or I ruined it myself, who knows. Thank God for blame, it lets you turn everything around. I can even blame Humphrey for being born a man. It’s your fault Humphrey.' She stopped for a long drag. 'Did you ever know a good man? I know that’s like asking did you ever know a good bastard.”
“I’ll have to stop and think,” Sandy said, not wanting to disagree.
“Even a good man is not worth the bother. Look who’s talking. I’m old and useless myself.”
“You should keep dreaming. Terrible not to dream. You can replace your bad luck with good dreams.”
“Bad luck is all that keeps me going. Gives me something to look forward to. I jump out of bed each morning, can’t wait to find out what bad luck is going to hit me that day.”
“You’ve stopped dreaming because nothing has come true. That’s sad but not a reason to stop dreaming.”
“So I’ll dream and with any luck I’ll be dead before I notice none of my dreams have come true. Thanks anyway, but the entire dream idea has passed me by. Sorry, Ruth, you should have been here yesterday. Sorry, Ruth, you’re not eligible for that. Sorry, Ruth, we just gave away the last one. You ever look closely at a food container you’re eating out of and happen to notice it expired three years before? That’s my life. Everything I want, or get up enough nerve to go after, isn’t there anymore. Somehow, I missed it. It’s already expired. Sorry, Ruth.”
“Ruth, you need to change things. Shake things up. Start with things you can change easily. Throw away that stupid ashtray from Branson. It triggers bad memories. Go to the dog pound and save some little dog’s life. I’m sorry, I should shut up.”
“You know, I do have a wish. I’d like to have lunch out with someone. Someone smart. I’d like to have someone clever across from me at the table. We’re trading amusing comments back and forth.”
“You don’t mean a man?”
“God no. Some nice woman. We’d definitely be talking. We’re talking about how we’ll spend our time. Because we’re carefree, you see. Our time isn’t already set out for us. And she’d be looking at me, you know. Looking at me because she’s interested in me and what I have to say. I’m holding a teacup, not a mug, and my little finger is sticking straight out.”
“That would be very nice for anyone.”
“She wouldn’t be mean and nobody would be yelling. Oh, well...do you want some tea? Did I already ask you that? I have teacups somewhere. They might be cracked but I got them. You can stick your little finger out.”
Ruth now seemed to be trembling slightly again. She crossed her arms and hugged her shoulders as though cold. Her knees were pressed together. As though talking about change had threatened her. She moved her eyes slowly around the room as though it was unfamiliar, then back at Sandy. “You ever worry about that wolf scratching at your door?”
“That wolf scratching at my door?” Sandy stared at the woman for a half minute and then moved over and sat beside her on the couch. She resisted the urge to reach over and touch her. “Yes, Ruth, I often worry about that goddamn wolf scratching at my door.”
They sat together in silence.
And then. “You know I can't let you leave.” Ruth now stared strangely at her.
