Ain't No Sunshine Page 9

  "Please?"

  He sighed. "Alright, I'll make you a deal. I'll take you to see her, but I'm going to have to handcuff you again. I can't take a chance that you might run off before we finish this interview."

  "That's fine." I set my soda down and held out my hands.

  After he secured the cuffs to my wrists, Lt. Drake led me down a narrow hallway, past several cells holding miscellaneous drunks and prostitutes. I hoped Ruthie hadn't been forced into their company.

  Thankfully, Ruthie was resting in an otherwise empty cell. She was fast asleep on a cot in the middle of the room. Her brown curls were piled in a messy knot on the side of her face. Her right arm hung limply over the edge of the cot. She looked beautiful. I wanted to go in and kiss her, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. Before I knew it, we were heading back to the interrogation room.

  "You know, I was thinking about something," Lt. Drake said as we walked back. "When you were a kid, Matthew bought you and Ruthie a dog, didn't he? I don't think you said anything about her since you told me about looking for Matthew’s body. What happened to the dog?"

  I sat down in the familiar wooden chair as Lt. Drake unlocked my handcuffs. "I tried to block that night out of my memory," I said as he sat across from me. I sighed. "One afternoon when I was eleven, my dad was taking a nap. He had been up most of the night giving last rites to one of his church members. Goldie started barking. Without saying a word, he came out of his room, grabbed his shotgun, and shot her in the backyard."

  Lt. Drake's eyes widened. I could tell he was an animal lover.

  He cleared his throat. "Where was Ruthie?"

  "She was at the grocery store with her grandmother. I buried Goldie and made sure there was no sign of her when Ruthie came back." I had to pause and hold in the tears. “I never got to grieve for Goldie. If I cried, Ruthie would've wondered why and I didn't want her to know. I told her that Goldie ran away."

  Lt. Drake shook his head as if trying to shake the image of my dead dog out of his mind. "So, let me get this straight so far." He leaned forward. "You and Ruthie are brother and sister; you can't stay away from each other so Ruthie decides to move away."

  I nodded.

  "How long was she gone?" he asked.

  "Two years."

  "How did you handle it?"

  "Not well. It was a dark time in my life. I didn't like what I turned into. I did a lot of drugs. I don't even remember some of the awful things I did to people. But I'll fill you in on what I do remember.”

  Chapter 23

  Two weeks after Ruthie left, Julius and I were playing basketball in silence. It wasn't a real game; we were just shooting around in the school gym. He could tell I didn't want to talk, but after a while his curiosity got the best of him.

  "Alright, are you going to tell me what's going on with you?" he asked.

  "What do you mean?" I responded casually as I took another shot. I didn't know whether I was ready to talk about the situation yet, or not.

  "I mean, what's up with all those bruises on your chest? Did you get in another fight or somethin'?" I had forgotten that he'd seen me without my shirt the night I'd rescued Ruthie from Bruce two weeks ago.

  "Yeah, something like that." I missed the shot, but it bounced right back to me so I took another shot. This time Julius got the rebound.

  "Well, who was it? I can help you take him out."

  I didn't answer as Julius took his shot. He sighed, annoyed with my reluctance to elaborate.

  "You used to be this hip genius that everyone liked and now you're just…I don't know…you're different. What happened?"

  I still didn't say anything. I felt myself losing it. I didn't know how many more of his questions I could take.

  "And what's up with you and Ruthie? I thought you guys were together. Why was she at that party with Bruce? Did you break up or somethin'?"

  "Yeah, something like that," I said as I tried to get the ball after he took another shot, but Julius beat me to it.

  "Well, where is she? I haven't seen her in like, two weeks. If she's on the market let me know so I can tell Timothy. He's so into that girl it's ridiculous. Just promise you won't beat him up," he said only halfway joking. That did it. I walked over to the bench and started packing up my stuff.

  "Whoa, hey, what'd I say?"

  I just ignored him. I didn't feel like explaining myself and I didn't feel like hearing about what guys were "into" my Ruthie.

  "What is up with you, man?" He wasn't joking anymore. He really wanted to know what was going on. "You been actin' strange for months now. If you ain't pickin' fights with random guys, you're holed up in your room and I don't see you for days. Just tell me. It can't be that bad. Did you get her pregnant or something? I can help you out with –"

  "She's my sister," I said quietly. I don't know what made me say it. But once it was out, it was kind of a relief. Julius looked at me sideways, then he started to smile.

  "I'm serious, man." he said, tossing the ball to me playfully.

  "I'm serious, too. Why would I lie about that?"

  "Whoa, that's messed up," he said when he saw that I wasn't kidding.

  "My father is her father. Now you know. Are you happy now?" I threw the ball back at him, forcefully. He caught it, but it threw him off balance a little.

  "Did you guys…you know…?"

  "Yeah. A lot."

  "Whoa, that's messed up."

  "Will you stop saying that?"

  "Well, what am I supposed to say?"

  "I don't know," I said. Julius sat next to me on the bench and we both just stared into space for a while.

  "Does she know?"

  "Yeah."

  "Whoa, that's…I mean. Sorry." Julius dribbled the ball slowly. I could tell he was uncomfortable and trying to find the right thing to say. "So, since you can't have her, you've been beatin' up every guy that gets close to her," he said.

  I didn't answer.

  "You still love her, don't you?" he asked after a while.

  "That's irrelevant."

  "No, it ain't."

  "What do you mean?"

  "No one else knows and no one else has gotta know. I won't tell. Just move away together."

  "That's disgusting."

  "Hey, I'm just sayin' if you wanna be together, go ahead and do it. Who's gonna think you're related?"

  "That's not an option," I said as I grabbed my stuff and started walking out of the gym.

  "Fine, just keep flyin' off the handle every time you see her with someone. That's a great solution, Stephen. You know everyone thinks you've lost your mind!"

  "Well, I don't have to worry about beating up other guys anymore because she's gone."

  Julius ran to catch up with me at the door. "What do you mean, she's gone?"

  "She went back to New York."

  "Oh..." He started dribbling the ball again. It was his way of thinking. "Look, man," he said after a few seconds, "I know you might think it's gross now, but just think about going after her and being with her. No one else would know. As long as she didn't get pregnant...no problem."

  I tried to think about it. I really did. So many times I wanted to just hop in my truck and drive to New York to find her. But I couldn't. How were we supposed to have a happy life together with that secret between us? It wasn't possible. It was time for me to move on and find someone else.

  ***

  "Stephen? Stephen, are you listening to me?" Mary Elizabeth was trying to get my attention. She had been talking nonstop for twenty minutes about her weekend shopping trip in New York with her parents. I was lying on her bed as she showed me purchase after purchase. It just reminded me of Ruthie. I wondered what she was doing, how she was surviving in that big city, all alone. I wanted to be there for her. I felt a pain in my chest. It hurt to swallow. I closed my eyes and tried to block out Mary Elizabeth's words.

  Two months earlier I had called her, out of the blue, and asked her for a date. We'd been together ever since. In orde
r to tolerate her, I'd mastered the art of tuning out her constant chatter. She quickly picked up on the lack of attention I was giving her fashion show.

  "Why do I always feel like when you're with me, you're really somewhere else?"

  "What are you talking about? I'm right here." I did the boyfriendly thing. I grabbed her hand and pulled her next to me on the bed. I tried to caress her cheek, but she turned away from me.

  "I was so excited when you asked me out. It was like a dream. I thought that we could actually have a future together." She wasn't looking at me, but I could tell she was starting to cry.

  "We can." I lied.

  "Don't be ridiculous, Stephen. You're in my room, lying on my bed. I've been parading around you half-naked for half an hour and it's like I'm not even here."

  "What are you talking about?" Just then I noticed that she had been changing in and out of outfits the entire time. She was now wearing just her bra, panties, and a frilly pink skirt. I guess it didn’t have the effect she wanted.

  "I wanted you to be my first," she sobbed. She wanted to have sex with me? I hadn't even thought about it with her.

  I was completely taken aback. I went to hug her and tried to kiss her neck, but she stood up.

  "Oh, forget it, Stephen. Stop pretending that you could ever love me as much as I love you. It's not fair to either one of us."

  "Mary Elizabeth, I do…"

  "Don't lie to me, please. Just leave and let me preserve a little of my dignity." She turned her back to me and looked out the window, furiously wiping tears from her face.

  I got off the bed and stood behind her. I lifted her hair and tenderly kissed the back of her neck. I lied to her. I told her exactly what she wanted to hear. Then I unsnapped her bra and laid her down. My mouth covered her breasts. I massaged her nipples with my tongue while my fingers slipped into her panties. I can't say what we did next was making love. It was just sex. I could never love her, which is why I never called her again after that day.

  Taking an innocent girl's virginity to fill my own selfish needs should have made me feel guilty. It didn't, though. I just felt empty, alone, numb. No guilt whatsoever, which is why I continued to do it. I went from one girl to the next, somehow making each of them believe that they were the most special thing in my life. Like I said before, I had a talent for making people see only what I wanted them to see.

  After I went through all the white girls in town, I moved on to the black girls. In particular, Rosalee Hines, one of Ruthie's friends, held a certain attraction. Rosalee and I would go to the fanciest restaurants and I would cause a scene as often as I could. If they so much as failed to fill up our water glasses in a timely fashion, I would accuse the entire restaurant of being racist. I don't know whether I really liked Rosalee or whether I just wanted to embarrass my father.

  It was 1974 and while interracial dating wasn't exactly accepted in Livingston, it happened often enough, as evidenced by the few children in town who were too black to be white and too white to be black. I should have recognized that Ruthie fell into that category. I think a part of me had been in denial all my life. As long as no one spoke about mixed-race affairs or brought too much attention to the practice, people could pretend it didn't exist.

  I thought cavorting in public with Negro women would anger my father. But as it turns out, he really didn't care what I did. He only cared about one thing.

  "Have you heard from Ruth?" he asked one night, before one of my dates with Rosalee.

  I couldn't believe he had the audacity to ask me about her. How could he even mention her name in front of me? I had just gotten to the point where I didn't have to remind myself not to think about her. I could finally kiss a woman and not compare her to my sister. My wounds were starting to heal. Now he had to go and open the wound again with just the mention of her name. That's when it hit me. My father was hurting, too. In his own sick way, he loved his daughter. He loved her more than he ever loved me.

  I shook my head. My father stared down into his glass of scotch, then shuffled to his bedroom. I left the house to go pick up Rosalee.

  After dinner, I took her to a popular make-out spot on the outskirts of town. It was a romantic place up in the mountains where I often brought girls when I wanted to get high or have sex. There was even a name for it, something like 'Make-Out Point' or 'Hot Spot Hill', or something stupid like that.

  "You're so beautiful." I said between kisses as I unbuttoned her blouse. I wasn't completely lying. She was cute with her ebony complexion and huge, gorgeous, white smile, but I don't think I was thinking about her that night, which was proven by what I said next.

  "I love you, Ruthie."

  "What did you say?" Rosalee quickly pulled away from me.

  "What? I said I love you."

  "What did you call me?"

  "Rosie. I called you Rosie." For a moment I honestly believed I did say Rosie instead of Ruthie.

  "The hell you did. You called me Ruthie. Again."

  "No, I didn't. And what do you mean 'again'? I've never called you Ruthie."

  "Last week, at that French restaurant, you called me Ruthie." She was getting angry. She was already buttoning her shirt and simultaneously getting out of the truck. She had every right to be angry. I knew what I had done. I didn't know why I did it. She didn't look like Ruthie. She didn't smell like her, feel like her, or taste like her. No one did. No one could replace my Ruthie. But I was doomed to spend the rest of my life searching for someone to fall in love with that reminded me enough of my sister.

  "Rosalee, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Get back in the truck."

  "Look, if you're so in love with Ruthie then be with her. Don't mess around with me." I wish it were that easy. She had no idea how much I wanted it to be that way. It frustrated me the way she treated the situation so nonchalantly.

  "You should just shut the hell up about things you know nothing about!" I yelled at her. Something in my voice really scared her. She started backing away from the truck.

  "Just stay away from me," she said.

  I was turning into some sort of monster and I knew it. I had to get myself together. Somehow I convinced her to get back in the truck and I drove her home. The next day she dumped me. I can't say I blame her.

  I continued in this cycle of sabotaging relationships and alienating myself from every other human being until about a week ago. Then everything changed.

  Chapter 24

  It wasn't coincidence; it was fate that led me to the town’s ice cream parlor last week. It was the same place Matthew used to take us when we were kids. For some reason, I couldn't get Matthew or Ruthie out of my mind that day. I sat in a window seat and let my sundae melt as I stared out the window, watching the street. That's when I saw her.

  After two years, my Ruthie looked exactly the same. Her brown hair had been straightened and it hung down her back. She almost glowed in the yellow sundress she wore. With her friends, Rosalee and Adelaide, on either side of her, she laughed and giggled as they entered the dress shop across the street.

  I was so mesmerized by the sight of her, I don't even remember leaving the ice cream parlor and crossing Main Street. But moments later, I stood in front of the dress shop as Ruthie exited.

  She froze in front of me. We stared at each other in silence for an eternity. My heart felt like it was in my throat.

  Finally, Rosalee said, "Ruthie, we're going on to the pharmacy. You can catch up with us there." Then she pulled Adelaide away, leaving Ruthie and me alone. I thought I sensed a little hostility from Rosalee. We didn't exactly end on a good note.

  "Hi." I don't remember which one of us said it, but the isolated salutation just hung in the air for several seconds.

  "Adelaide is getting married this weekend," she said finally. "A Fourth of July wedding. She wanted me to be a bridesmaid."

  I nodded. That explained why she was in town. But it didn't explain why she hadn't contacted me. That's what I really wanted to know.

  F
or two years I had thought about what I'd say if I saw her again. I constantly replayed possible conversations in my head. But in that moment, nothing came to me.

  "How are you?" I said, resorting to polite conversation.

  "I'm fine. You?"

  I nodded. I wasn't quite sure what to say. I knew I didn't want to tell her that I really wasn't fine. That my life had crumbled and I'd turned into a shell of my former self that rarely left the house. I'd basically turned into my mother.

  "Are you growing a beard?" she asked, touching my chin.

  I covered her hand with mine. "I just haven't felt like shaving in a few days."

  She smiled slightly, then she jerked her hand away and shoved it into her pocket as if suddenly remembering where she was. She looked around self-consciously.

  "I miss you," I blurted. It wasn't the wisest thing for me to say, but I couldn't hold it in. It just came out.

  Ruthie turned away and started blinking rapidly. She was holding back tears. In that moment, I knew she missed me, too.

  By the time I got home that afternoon, my father already knew Ruthie was in town.

  "Do you think she'll join us for dinner?" he said to no one in particular as he paced the living room. He downed the Scotch in his hand, then reached for another.

  "Who?" I knew exactly who he was talking about. I think I just felt like being obstinate.

  "Mabel." He shut his eyes and held the glass of ice to his forehead. "Ruthie. I mean Ruthie."

  "I highly doubt she will ever step foot in this house again," I said through gritted teeth as I stormed off to my room.

  "Well, why on Earth not? I'm her father," he said from the other room. He had completely lost his grip on reality. Did he think he could have a real father-daughter relationship with her?

  After I lay down in bed, I heard my father leave the house. I wondered if he was going to search out Ruthie and invite her to dinner. I knew she wouldn't come. I knew she would stay as far away from this house as possible. But a part of me wished she would come over. I longed to see her again. Though the sight of her was painful, it also filled a crushing void inside of me. Being around her again would be exquisite torment.