Ruby on the Outside by Nora Raleigh Baskin Page A

my mind, he will always believe in soon.
    My mother must not see the hard, steely expression on my face because she bends down and hugs me just like it’s any other regular visiting day. Just like nothing has changed. Because for her, nothing has. But for me, everything has changed.
    â€œOh, my sweetie. My sweetheart. My Ruby heart,” my mother says.
    I try and tell my outside to stiffen up and protect me, but my inside doesn’t listen and when my mother’s arms are all the way around me, my inside breaks into a million little pieces.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, baby?” my mother is saying. She doesn’t let go. She holds me tighter. “What is it? You can tell me. Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.”
    â€œI’m so mad at you,” I yell. I think I yell. It sounds like a yell inside my head. I say it again and I wait for the whole world to fall apart but instead I feel my mother’s strong arms around my shoulders, pressing my whole body into hers. Her voice is my mother’s voice, will always be my mother’s voice. Her skin is her skin, is her skin is her hair, is my skin and my hair, and her eyes and her hands, and my heart and her heart.
    And now all I can do is cry.

    They make me leave the visitors’ room. They don’t allow outbursts of excessive emotion. I guess it’s like a yawn. It can trigger everyone else to start yawning. Or sobbing, as the case may be. I make a beeline for the bathrooms just past the first set of doors.
    I’m outside now. I can’t go back in without going through all those procedures.
    And then, Matoo is sitting in the bathroom with me.
    Just thinking about how awful my mother feels right now, because of me, makes me sick to my stomach. The scene I made, she was powerless to prevent, powerless to help, powerless to even stay and wait for me to calm down. They will take her away now. They will put hours, days, weeks of metal bars between us, all because I couldn’t control myself.
    I can’t control myself.
    â€œI’m going to be sick, Matoo,” I say.
    â€œIt’s okay. Here.” She walks me into the stall, pushing open the door with one hand and holding back my hair with the other.
    I puke. I mean I really puke.
    â€œIt’s okay,” Matoo says when I am finished. “Rinse up. Splash some water on your face.” She walks me over to the sinks.
    My mother is gone.
    She’s gone. There nothing and no power on earth or in heaven that’s going let me see my mother again today. I sent her away. I did that. I hurt my mother. I know she’s a mess now, wondering what’s wrong with me and not being able to do anything about it. She’ll want to call, but she can’t just use the phone whenever she wants to.
    I know she’ll want to.
    I start sobbing all over again and now I feel like I’m going to throw up a second time. I am thinking about my mother and Margalit, and Josh Tipps. And Margalit’s mother, who will hate me forever. How could she not?
    She should.
    I hate myself.
    And if, by some miracle, she didn’t hate me, she’d never be able to look at me the same.
    It’s all ruined. I’ve lost my best friend and I’ve lost my mother.
    â€œBreathe,” Matoo says. “Try and calm down. Then tell me what’s going on.”
    I don’t throw up again, but I feel my legs getting weaker. My knees give out and my whole body slides down along the wall until I am sitting on the floor.
    I can see it in Matoo’s face: Oh, that dirty floor. That dirty wall.
    Ruby, she wants to say, what’s the matter with you? It’s filthy in here. Straighten yourself up. Stand up. Pull yourself together.
    Get over it. Put it lid on it.
    But she doesn’t.
    I watch as Matoo slithers down, her back against the wall, until she slides right next to me. She doesn’t let her bottom touch, but instead she kind of balances on the heels of her