“Imagine having siblings who weren’t your friends,” Claire put in. “Not that we always got along! I still have a bald spot the size of my pinky nail where Ruth pulled my hair out by the roots!”
Nell and I had separate rooms, but when she was little, she ended up every night in my bed. We’d experienced that rare thing, a happy childhood. Apparently, so had the Copeland sisters.
“She was a firecracker,” Claire said softly. Each in her own way, we meditated on Ruth and what had broken her.
The middle school parking lot was packed. The parking space we finally found was three blocks away at the abandoned showroom of a furrier, with a ballroom dance studio on the second floor, a reminder that, however odd Florida was now, it had once been even odder, a sort of private club for the wealthy and oblivious. I was glad of the short walk, to summon my nerve. When we rang the buzzer and a voice asked if we had an appointment, I was able to say that yes, we had a meeting with Mrs. Copeland.
Inside, we followed a labyrinthine path to the office, green walls inexpertly adorned with daisies, porpoises, and peace signs. Claire and Fay sat down on a bench to wait while I, armed with my phone with the photo of Ruth, stood in line behind some burly students for my turn at the counter. Just as I got there, the secretary told me to wait, she would be right back, and disappeared into one of the glassed-in rooms that flanked the main space. When I turned to wave to Fay and Claire, to signal that I would be a moment, I saw her. She had come into the office and was standing just to my left, writing something in a huge ring binder that lay open on the surface.
I said, “Ruth?”
When she looked at me, I could tell that she was about to turn around and run away. Then her shoulders sagged. She said, “Reenie. How did you know to come here?”
“My parents saw you at that space restaurant, that big diner.”
“How did your parents know to look for me there?”
“They were just having brunch, Ruth! They weren’t looking for you! My folks have a place in Cocoa Beach now. But, Ruth, your sisters are here, right out there in the hall on that bench. They’ve been crazy worried about you. Your parents are so worried about you. Do you know that Felicity is in prison?”
“Not here,” Ruth said. “Bring them around to the back entrance, down by the art rooms, and I’ll meet you there.”
“How do I know that you won’t just take off?”
“Why would I tell you to go downstairs to the art rooms if I was going to just take off?”
“So you could take off quicker while we were stumbling around looking for the art rooms.”
“I won’t,” she said. “You’d just find me again.”
I still did not believe her.
“We can’t just wander the school without permission, Ruth.” I was proud of that inspiration. “I’ll wait on the bench with your sisters.” I left the office and sat down, not replying to Claire and Fay’s urgent fusillade of questions. I watched Ruth through the glass window of the office as she completed whatever note she’d been making in that binder. I saw as she hesitated, glancing around her as if looking for the emergency exit. Then she walked out into the hall.
Claire cried, “Ruthie!” and rushed to her. Fay followed. Enclosed by those familiar arms, Ruth visibly allowed herself a moment of relief.
Then she said, “We’ll go down into the sculpture studio. It’s deserted. Nobody wants to pay for art anymore, so they stopped the program. It’s quiet down there. We can talk.”
We sat on high metal stools. There was a primitive-looking coffee station and a refrigerator. Ruth brought us cardboard cups of vile coffee with chemical sweetener. She reached into the fridge and took out a carton of apple juice and poured some into a cup for herself. No one knew how to begin.
Fay finally said, “We love you. We were afraid you were dead. I’m furious. I’m hurt. I don’t want to waste time being upset but, Ruthie, how could you do this to us? And to Mom and Dad?”
Claire added, “And to Felicity? You weren’t even there, Ruth. Do you know that Felicity is in prison now? Do you know she was convicted?”
Ruth didn’t even glance at either sister, much less answer. She stared at the wall behind Claire’s head. Whatever it was that Ruth was seeing, I hoped I would never see anything like it. Still without moving her eyes, she said to me, “Did you tell people where I am?”
“Just these people,” I said, gesturing to her sisters. “And of course, my parents.”
“Well, I suppose they told people.” Her voice was harsh, almost sarcastic. It surprised me.
“I don’t think they did, Ruth. There would be no reason for them to do that. They were just concerned, the way you would be for a friend. And your sisters were so scared that they called the police.”
Ruth said, “Why?”
“Because they love you, that’s why. And they love Felicity, no matter what. They think that there’s been a terrible mistake.”
Ruth says, “There has. This is all my fault.”
Fay put her arms around Ruth, who still didn’t look at her sister. “Don’t go overboard, Ruthie. This is not your fault. You’re a great mother. You always were.”
