Brunch at rubys, p.36
Brunch at Ruby's, page 36
Dr. Lewis takes a seat in the monstrous chair behind the desk. She's so short she looks like a child playing in her father's office. “Well, I won't belabor this, mom and dad. You're definitely pregnant. Based on your last cycle, I'd estimate that we're very early on.”
She looks up from the page she's reading and gives me a wink and a smile, then stands and plucks a few books and a folder from a stack on her desk. “Let me assure you you're fine. You're healthy, you're young, and right now everything is perfect. I'd like you to take some information with you. I've found that new mothers enjoy them and they aren't as alarmist as the Internet can be.”
Dr. Lewis hands the stack to Joseph. He takes them and begins flipping through the folder full of information. “Looks like we've got homework,” he mumbles.
“There's a directory of resources for everything from Introduction to Baby and Lamaze classes, information on Doulas and Midwives—”
“Doo what? Wife what?” I giggle and elbow Joseph. He chuckles because he finds himself funny.
“You'll figure it out eventually, I promise. And what you don't figure out, you'll wing it with the best of them.”
Dr. Lewis turns to focus on me. I know I'm about to get a lecture, but the blows hit softly. “The most important thing is to relax. Make sure you're getting in good nutrition, not junk. Stay active. Get your rest. And don't let this one—” she angles her head toward Joseph, “ — drive you crazy. You're about to go on the ride of your lives. Enjoy it.”
Joseph and I stand, and she walks us to the door. “See my nurse on the way out and set an appointment for four weeks from now. We'll do your first sonogram and make sure everything is on schedule and going okay. In the meantime…”
“I know, I know. Rest and don't stress.”
After I set my next appointment, Joseph and I walk through the office complex and parking lot like we have nowhere to be. We have plans to go to lunch, something I've been looking forward to all day. I've been ravenous for the last week.
Joseph clutches the books and the folder in the crook of an arm. “I guess we can look through some of this stuff over lunch.”
I give a small pout. We have plenty of time to ‘do our homework'. “I'd rather talk about us picking out a place to live.”
“Together?” I glance up at him and catch the corner of his mouth tipping up. “I know you're a real estate professional and everything, but I have to live there too. I get a vote.”
“Yes, of course. Together.” I sigh as we stroll. My car is in sight, sitting in wait for us.
“What's that sigh about?”
“Just thinking. About everything.”
“Everything like what?”
We reach my car and I pause at the passenger side, leaning against the door. “You and me and this baby. And moving. And my friends and Inell and your parents. And work...”
“We're not five minutes out of the doctor's office and you're already stressing.”
“I'm not stressing. Just thinking. Taking it all in.”
I glance up at him, the father of the baby I'm carrying. For a fleeting moment, I think about how it could have been Malcolm, and the thought makes me sad.
I wouldn't have wanted a baby with Malcolm. I want a baby with Joseph.
He moves in and slides his arms around me. I am surrounded by him — arms, scent, the sound of his voice. “We'll take everything one day at a time, one step at a time, alright?”
“Together?”
“I'm not going anywhere, Max. I love you. I'm right here with you. We're going to do this together.”
I've never had a man tell me he loved me–not like Joseph tells me. I love hearing it. He loves saying it. I love saying it back and having someone to speak those words to. And mean it.
“I love you too.”
I let him hold me for a few moments until my stomach rumbles. Joseph laughs and digs the key fob out of his pocket to unlock the car. I get in on the passenger side, indulging Joseph in his latest affinity — driving a Maserati. A year ago, no one else had ever driven her. Today, I'd let him drive me to the ends of the earth and back.
Joseph presses the ignition button, and she roars to life, then adjusts for the heat and humidity. The fan blows cool air across my forehead. I relax against the headrest and close my eyes. And smile.
“You go to Ruby's all the time. You sure you want to go there today?”
I nod and keep smiling, eyes still closed. “Today is special. Special days call for Ruby's.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Debra
* * *
A loud tweet blasts from the whistle hanging around my neck, gaining the attention of two girls having a slap fight in the middle of the basketball court. “Ladies, I know you know better! To the sidelines and give me twenty push-ups!”
The girls grumble but stomp out of bounds and lazily, slowly do their exercises.
“Those are the sorriest push-ups I have ever seen. I ought to make you do them over.” I snap my fingers and direct them to the bench where their teammates sit. They're already not happy that I'm making them play basketball, but they're not at the community center to sit around and text boys.
I'm not supposed to enjoy my punishment, but I do. A judge whose grandson had attended Morningside presided over my plea to reckless driving. I was sentenced to pay a fine and serve community service. Two Saturdays and one Friday a month, I volunteer at the West Atlanta Community Center. Two days a week, I help run a tutoring service at another center. It fills up the time I'm taking off from Morningside and I'm enjoying it so much, I might consider a new career.
“Lawrence. Patrick.”
I call out two boys standing in a corner, having a quiet conversation. “If you're going to talk, fine. But move while you do it. How about some ping pong?” They frown and shake their heads. “Foosball?” More frowning. “Well, find something besides standing and exercising your jaws, or I'll find something for you. Get me?”
The kids hate it when I come on Saturdays. Or so they say, but when I'm not here, they ask when I'm coming back. They don't care about things like scandals, suspensions or a DUI. All they care about is this cool lady that seems to care about them. And brings her cute, just-turned-thirteen-year-old daughter sometimes.
Two short blasts on the whistle means activity time is up. I pull the lanyard from around my neck and hand it to my replacement, Monique. “They're your problem now.”
“Gee, thanks,” she says, jumping into action, heading to the basketball court where two boys are play wrestling. At least I hope they're playing. “I know I told y'all last week about that rough housing! Get off of him!”
I laugh, picking up my bag from under the desk and walk out the front door into the blazing sun. I check my watch and hurry toward my car.
It's been a few months at least since we had our regular brunch, what with my accident, Maxine and Renee fighting, then things getting busy with both of them. I'm excited to see my girls.
I hop into my new Benz coupe, the replacement for the totaled car. It's a newer model than I had before, loaded with bells and whistles. Maxine helped me pick it out. Willard rolled his eyes when I showed it to him in the catalog, then said he didn't care as long as it was within budget.
I disarm the security system, a necessary evil for the neighborhood, get in the car and press the ignition button. I can't get used to not needing a key to start the car. She purrs to life, and I put her in gear, ease her out of the parking lot and onto the street.
Willard is slowly making his way around. He hasn't moved back into our bedroom, but frequently sleeps in our bed. Janet prescribed weekly sex and in the beginning it was barely once a week. Now we're having sex a couple of times a week which is more than we'd had in the year before our separation. Who knew that all I had to do was drag him to a therapist to tell him to have sex with me?
I expected our first time together to be awkward. And it was. Clunky and quiet, with Willard just going through the motions. Over time though, it's done wonders. It's brought back tenderness between us. We can sit in the same room and talk and laugh about things. Share the couch, watch a movie with Kendra. Take a drive or pick up a few things from the grocery together. Willard is trying and I appreciate every stride.
Sex isn't a quick fix, though it has helped. We're still in therapy. We'll be in therapy until we don't need it anymore and who knows how long that will be? We have a lot to work out, Willard and I. He's still a little angry, but right now he loves me more than he hates me. It's a delicate dance, but we're learning the steps.
I officially resigned as Principal at Morningside. Not because of the scandal, not even because of the accident. I was prepared to ride out the storm but the longer I was away from the job, the less it mattered that I go back. The school didn't burn to the ground. The kids still arrive and go to class and eat lunch and depart. The world keeps turning, even though I'm not there.
In some ways I think maybe Charlotte was right. Maybe I wasn't ready for the job. Not mature or seasoned enough; not hardened enough. It takes more than loving the students and the staff and the building to be a good Principal. I didn't fail at my job but I wasn't a raging success either. I don't know if I'll go back to Administration, but I have a year to figure it out.
I haven't heard from David. Or about David. It's not that I don't care about what happens to him. I have a marriage that I'm trying to put back together and caring about David is what tore it apart. I wonder where he'll end up when his job at Morningside ends. I'm not going to find out.
I pull into the freshly paved parking lot at Ruby's. I can still smell the tar and the lines that mark the spaces are bright white. I park next to Maxine, press the key fob to lock the car and rush across the parking lot.
A Denali screeches to a halt in front of the entrance to Ruby's. The windows in the front are down and I hear laughter. I look back and see that it's Malcolm. Renee is fussing—laughing but fussing. She hops down from the cab, pushes the door closed and walks around the front of the truck.
“Have a good time. Call me when you're ready.”
“Roll down Daddy's window a second?” The rear window rolls down to reveal Bernard in the back seat, wearing a Braves cap pulled low on his head. “Have fun today, okay, Daddy?”
“Where am I going?”
“You're going to the park to fish. Remember?” His face scrunches up and Renee steps back. “Don't forget his sunblock.”
“Stop worrying,” says Malcolm. “We'll be fine. Look, there's one of ‘em behind you.” He points to me; Renee turns and grins. Malcolm pulls away, performs a three-point turn in the parking lot and heads back onto the street.
“Seems like Malcolm is fitting into the family just fine,” I comment, walking arm in arm up the sidewalk to Ruby's entrance.
“Yeah. I think Daddy likes him more than he likes me.”
We laugh as we step inside, the bell over the door clanging to announce our entrance. Maxine gets up from the bench, looking irritated. Fortunately, I'm used to that face.
“Which of your arms was broken?” I gesture with the right arm. She grabs the left one and pulls me and Renee to the hostess stand. “We're all here. Can we sit now?”
The waitress shows us to our usual table, which has likely been standing in wait for an hour. The new policy at Ruby's, Maxine informs us, is that we can't seat ourselves anymore. “Even if you have a reserved table and have known the owner your entire life.”
Renee laughs, playfully tapping her with a napkin as we all take our usual seats. “Why are you so pissy today?”
“Because I'm hungry.”
The waitress brings water and sets a glass in front of Maxine. Before Max can even start, Renee stops her. “Perrier, a glass of ice and a straw for her. Please, before her head explodes.”
Maxine grabs a package of crackers from the iron basket on the table, rips it open and shoves one into her mouth. Renee and I stare as she chews one, then the other cracker, crumples the wrapper and tosses it to the center of the table. She lifts her eyes to greet our stares.
“What? I had a light dinner last night, and I didn't eat this morning.”
The waitress returns with the iconic green bottle, a glass of ice and a straw. Then, Maxine asks for a menu. Renee and I stare at her, again, as the waitress hands it to her.
“Okay, what is going on with you today, Maxine?” I ask.
“I can't change my mind every once in a while?”
“Sure you can. But you can't act crazy while you do it.” I unwrap my straw and dunk it into my water glass, taking a few sips before setting it back on the table. “The omelet is good, if you're looking for something light.”
Maxine visibly retches. “Ugh, no eggs. I think I'm having pancakes. Maybe some bacon. And some fruit. I've never had the fruit here.”
She uncaps her Perrier, pours it into her glass, dunks her straw and takes several long drags. “So, how's everyone? What's new?”
“Nothing much over here,” I answer. “Still volunteering and tutoring. The kids are cool. School ends next week and Willard is taking us on vacation.”
“To where?” Maxine asks. “And if it's Chattanooga, I will wring your neck.”
I laugh. “I'd wring my own neck. Getting up at five am to feed some goats is not a vacation. His parents have a beach house in Destin, so we're going to spend a couple of weeks out there. I'm looking forward to it.”
“I think that's nice,” says Renee. “You and Willard could really use the time away.”
“I think it'll be good for us. Good for all of us. Even Willard is excited and Willard does not get excited.”
“How are things, Willard-wise?” Renee asks.
“Things are okay. Really. Not perfect, but the counseling is working, and he's making an effort. That's all I can ask. We might just make it.” I tap Renee on the arm, eager to change the subject. “And your world? How's Gladwell?”
“We're great. I hired a full-time clerk to help Lexie out. Unless things slow down–and pray they don't, it'll be a great summer. Which will be nice because it's the last summer I'll have Jessie.”
“So she's really done this year?” Max asks. “Bernard must have worn her out."
“I don't think she's ready to be done with Daddy, but she's ready to be done with Atlanta Rehabilitation Center. She's been there for thirty years, so I guess she figures it's time. She's going to have to move in with her daughter, though. She lives about ten minutes away so Jessie can drop in to see Daddy any time.”
“Does she want to live with her daughter?” I ask.
Renee hesitates, screwing her lips to the right before answering. “From what I can tell, I don't think so. But she doesn't really have a choice. Social security doesn't go very far these days.”
“Couldn't you just hire her right out?” asks Maxine.
“Not at the rate she gets paid through Atlanta Rehab. Daddy's pension helps a lot, but I'm still stretching every dollar I can. I'm hoping I can find someone who's as good as she is that Daddy gets along with, and that's going to be hard.”
“Good luck with that," I offer. “Maybe you can pay room and board as part of her compensation and work out a wage you can afford? Jessie knows Bernard. She's there all the time and you have the space. Then she doesn't have to live with her daughter and you keep the best nurse your father has ever had. And I'm betting that you can still apply for help through the state. They don't care if Jessie is working for an agency, just that someone's working the hours.”
Renee sits up straight, her brows knit tightly together. I watch the wheels turn, albeit slowly, through her mind. “But… even if I could get her to agree to it, wouldn't that be like a twenty-four-seven gig? How is that better? At least now she gets to go home.”
“You give her a couple of days a week to do whatever she wants to do. Live-in care doesn't have to be servitude. Let her define what will work for her. You want to keep her, right?” Renee nods, vigorously. “Then it's worth a shot.”
“Exactly,” agrees Max. “If she says no, you move on to the next option. You should look into it though, and I bet she'll do it.”
“I'll think about that. I promise I will. But speaking of houses and moving…”
Renee turns to Maxine, hands propped on her hips. “Why are there bulldozers and a construction crew crawling all over Castlerock? There's nothing there but a pile of dirt now.”
I perk up at the mention of Maxine and Inell's old place. That little house held a lot of memories for us. “What? The house is gone?”
Maxine plucks another pack of crackers from the container on the table. “Inell got a letter from an investment firm offering her some number out of the blue for the house and the land. Seemed shady, so we looked into it. The house is worth nothing. But the land…”
Her lips form a smug grin. “The land has really appreciated, based on how revitalized the neighborhood has become. This builder is running through, snapping up properties and building these mini mansions. All of that renovation is bringing up property values. I'm sad to say I wasn't even paying attention. I could have some investment property.”
Maxine pouts, but only briefly. “Anyway, they wanted to give Inell just under half a million for it. It's worth almost twice that.”
My jaw drops. “Inell was sitting on million dollar property and didn't know it?”
Max crunches into another cracker and talks while she chews. “It settled out at around eight hundred thousand–more than we ever thought a pile of dirt and wood would be worth. She borrowed against it, razed the old house and we're building a new one in its place. Craftsman, brick exterior, updated finishes. Nothing big, but a far cry from the shack that used to be there. It should turn out nice.”
“So Inell is moving back to Decatur? What about the Brookhaven house?”
“She was planning to build the new house and sell it, but those plans have changed recently. The crew is moving pretty quickly and uh...”
