increasingly annoyed, as if trying to guess whether Kyle was out of town or ignoring her messages.
I sat in the dark, hugging a pillow and feeling sorry for myself and, as I often did, wishing Ruby had died instead of Nick.
Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. Ruby. She repeated word for word what she'd said in her very first message. Goose bumps bristled on my skin, and I felt the urge to open the window wide and let the sunshine in. I got dressed and went shopping. Anything to get away from Ruby's calls. I didn't buy a thing.
That night she phoned very late. Her annoyance was replaced with fear. "Kyle, something's happened to Lella. You've got to come down here immediately. I stopped by her house to say hello, and a strange woman opened the door. She wouldn't let me in. I'm worried about your mother. Should I call the police? No. I tell you what. I'll get myself back there, sit in my neighbors' car and watch the house until you get here."
Click.
Cold sweat covered my forehead and the back of my neck. She was crazy. I'd sold my house months ago. I became so distraught I couldn't think…I had to talk to somebody.
Anybody but Ruby. I put on the dress I wore on the flight home, grabbed my still unpacked luggage and left Kyle's apartment.
I checked into the Holiday Inn then called my son in San Francisco.
He didn't sound surprised.
He said he understood my anger and my blaming Ruby for the accident. If Nick hadn't been driving her car, if he hadn't been traveling with her in the first place, the accident might have never happened. He figured it was time to tell me what was wrong with Ruby.
She couldn't drive yet and was often confused. After she appeared to have an epileptic seizure, a neurologist solved the mystery. The impact to her skull had cut off certain pathways to her brain. She experienced temporary memory loss. It sometimes lasted hours—other times, days.
Ruby could read but couldn't write because she couldn't organize her thoughts logically. She had to quit her job at the Register . She went into therapy, knowing it would be a long time before she could have a normal life again. She was depressed about Nick's death and about my cutting her out of my life.
Kyle told me she was still living in the same place in Laguna Beach. Alone. All her friends had drifted away from her. She spoke to Kyle occasionally. Sometimes she forgot about the accident and asked about Nick and me. When she remembered, she cried.
I didn't sleep at all that night. I felt guilty about the way I had ignored Ruby. Was my guilt valid? I didn't know. I had to find out. The next morning, I rented a car and drove to Laguna Beach, to Ruby's home.
The spring rain fell constant and cold. To a visitor in a beach town, rain is a plus, as far as parking goes.
From the street where I parked, I could only see the old wooden fence and part of the roof.
Ruby's place used to be the garage of the white mansion down the hill. Even after the transformation to beach cottage it didn't have much square footage, but the view made you forget about "limited living space."
Ruby had always been a passionate gardener. She loved roses. The bushes looked like they hadn't been pruned in months, and the petals from the wilted flowers covered the brick path leading to the main entrance. I reached for the bell then remembered it had never worked. When I touched the door, it swung open. Music came from the back room, the one with the grand view.
My plastic raincoat made crinkly noises when I walked into the dark hallway. There was a musty smell, the smell of old beach houses on rainy days.
A melancholic solo from Miles Davis' trumpet welcomed me into the room.
She stood by the window, her back to the door.
I took a big breath. "Ruby."
Because of her neck brace, Ruby had to turn her entire body around in order to see me. She looked thinner than I remembered. Her hair was dull, with a few strands of gray visible near her scalp. Yet her eyes seemed as
I sat in the dark, hugging a pillow and feeling sorry for myself and, as I often did, wishing Ruby had died instead of Nick.
Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. Ruby. She repeated word for word what she'd said in her very first message. Goose bumps bristled on my skin, and I felt the urge to open the window wide and let the sunshine in. I got dressed and went shopping. Anything to get away from Ruby's calls. I didn't buy a thing.
That night she phoned very late. Her annoyance was replaced with fear. "Kyle, something's happened to Lella. You've got to come down here immediately. I stopped by her house to say hello, and a strange woman opened the door. She wouldn't let me in. I'm worried about your mother. Should I call the police? No. I tell you what. I'll get myself back there, sit in my neighbors' car and watch the house until you get here."
Click.
Cold sweat covered my forehead and the back of my neck. She was crazy. I'd sold my house months ago. I became so distraught I couldn't think…I had to talk to somebody.
Anybody but Ruby. I put on the dress I wore on the flight home, grabbed my still unpacked luggage and left Kyle's apartment.
I checked into the Holiday Inn then called my son in San Francisco.
He didn't sound surprised.
He said he understood my anger and my blaming Ruby for the accident. If Nick hadn't been driving her car, if he hadn't been traveling with her in the first place, the accident might have never happened. He figured it was time to tell me what was wrong with Ruby.
She couldn't drive yet and was often confused. After she appeared to have an epileptic seizure, a neurologist solved the mystery. The impact to her skull had cut off certain pathways to her brain. She experienced temporary memory loss. It sometimes lasted hours—other times, days.
Ruby could read but couldn't write because she couldn't organize her thoughts logically. She had to quit her job at the Register . She went into therapy, knowing it would be a long time before she could have a normal life again. She was depressed about Nick's death and about my cutting her out of my life.
Kyle told me she was still living in the same place in Laguna Beach. Alone. All her friends had drifted away from her. She spoke to Kyle occasionally. Sometimes she forgot about the accident and asked about Nick and me. When she remembered, she cried.
I didn't sleep at all that night. I felt guilty about the way I had ignored Ruby. Was my guilt valid? I didn't know. I had to find out. The next morning, I rented a car and drove to Laguna Beach, to Ruby's home.
The spring rain fell constant and cold. To a visitor in a beach town, rain is a plus, as far as parking goes.
From the street where I parked, I could only see the old wooden fence and part of the roof.
Ruby's place used to be the garage of the white mansion down the hill. Even after the transformation to beach cottage it didn't have much square footage, but the view made you forget about "limited living space."
Ruby had always been a passionate gardener. She loved roses. The bushes looked like they hadn't been pruned in months, and the petals from the wilted flowers covered the brick path leading to the main entrance. I reached for the bell then remembered it had never worked. When I touched the door, it swung open. Music came from the back room, the one with the grand view.
My plastic raincoat made crinkly noises when I walked into the dark hallway. There was a musty smell, the smell of old beach houses on rainy days.
A melancholic solo from Miles Davis' trumpet welcomed me into the room.
She stood by the window, her back to the door.
I took a big breath. "Ruby."
Because of her neck brace, Ruby had to turn her entire body around in order to see me. She looked thinner than I remembered. Her hair was dull, with a few strands of gray visible near her scalp. Yet her eyes seemed as
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