Losing Ruby

Copyright © 2020 Kelsa Dixon

All rights reserved

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[Chloe]

Steamy fractures of light filtered over the curtain rod. I hid from the sharp rays, aiming to call me out. My hands met the slick ceramic tiles of the shower. My shoulders shook and I lowered myself to my knees. Seared together, my lips throbbed, then went numb. It was a lame attempt to silence the wails that walloped against my chest. Still, I prayed Noah couldn't hear me.

He wouldn't look the other way. Though it felt like another lifetime, now he didn't let me succumb to my feelings—not like these—no matter the circumstances. Not on my own. I kept everything I felt neatly tucked away behind a once faux curtain of confidence that had become genuine over the years. I was confident, I had been for a long time.

But I'd lied. I'd lied to myself, over and over. I'd wished my face—framed in the same golden shade of blonde—had brought peace and comfort. Green eyes that offered a glimpse back to a better time. It was what I'd managed to convince myself of over time; that I was their solace. And yet the reminder of who I wasn't, and who they'd preferred me to be, played out in my mind again. The forlorn look forged deep into the creases of Brody's face this morning, flashing in front of me now; nagging.

It was the watery look of despair Brody wore that bore the truth. The way his face fell when the daze of his nightmare cleared and he realized it was me, not who he'd wanted; I wasn't Ruby crouched in front of him. And I took the hit like a tackle I'd watched Luca take on the field a million times before. I was blindsided by the brutal lash at my past; it'd knocked the wind out of me.

Like old, worn shoes, I'd slip into my armor, quickly managing to swallow down the shock, replacing the sting of the blow with a mask of indifference and an air of annoyance. Then I wobbled out of his room and down the hall, steadying myself against the wall until I had the shower on and the beady streams of water silenced the sounds I couldn't bear them to hear.

The disappointment I'd become all those years ago surged then, and in this moment, too. My arms curled around my stomach and my lips parted as I bent, tucking my face to my thighs. They muffled any sound that escaped. I didn't hear it either way, the existential pain ringing in my head.

And just like that my unsteady breathing became like a strong hand clamped around my windpipe. I choked on air and then the water that slipped into my lungs. Coughing and sputtering, I gripped the edge of the tub for support.

The incessant words—once a steady stream of willowy whispers from an old schoolyard bully—fought to make their way into the back of my mind in moments like this. I pushed back, but they were harder to ignore as the slew of accusations grew louder in my mind. The words engulfed me now as they had six years ago when I was just as vulnerable. How easily he could string together the right set of lies under the right set of circumstances for them to become an honest batch of beliefs.

'They can't stand to look at you.'

'You must be a painful reminder of what they no longer have.'

'They'll all leave. One by one. Ruby, Brody. Maybe Luca will be next.'

I tipped my head back and tried to drag in a breath. It caught in my throat and came back up as a blubbered sob.

Luca hadn't left. He'd been distant at one time, but he was present now. To a fault on some occasions.

Noah was here. He had an internal battle he'd never let me question regardless of how I played into it. At least not without a snarly set of acrimonious slews in response. They'd have you cowering in a corner, wondering why you'd been so dim as to bring his mood to anyone's attention.

He'd lash out at anyone, no one was off limits. Not our parents, not his friends, certainly not me. Nor Luca. I had a feeling Brody wouldn't be either.

But I didn't think anyone else saw what I saw; they didn't see past the aloof, carefree nonchalance.

They hadn't witnessed the blind rage. The holes he'd punched through the back of his closet for a year after she'd died; that poorly wrangled anger lingering for years. The night terrors that had for the most part subsided, but they'd never noticed in the first place. The drinking, the girls, that now replaced the horror he'd found in his sleep.

I didn't understand why they didn't question it more—why he hadn't shown up at the hospital; why he stayed out all night; the reason he drank, even if his defense would've been his age and the frat parties he helped orchestrate. They didn't seem to care about his lack of attachment to any relationship he'd ever had—to any of us, to Ruby since her death, to mom and dad. His friends, his chosen brothers, the girls. They didn't question any of it, and it should've all been a screaming neon sign to anyone looking his way. 'I need help-I desperately need you to see what's really going on'.

Yet through it all he hadn't left. Luca hadn't left me. That was the point. And I'd eventually learned to lift my chin and tune out the ruthless kid on the playground. The one waiting for me before school; the one who seemed to always be waiting for his dad while I waited for mine long after school had ended. I'd give him a name, but he didn't deserve that kind of recognition from me.

He'd been wrong all those years ago—he was still wrong, I reminded myself. Brody was mourning, the steps he was taking backwards were typical. That's all there was to it. I wasn't the problem; it wasn't about me, it was about his own heartache he'd yet to let go of. I'd learned that in the years I'd spent in therapy. To feel the heartache. To honor it, and release it.

I shifted on my heels and pressed my fingertips against my lashes hoping to ease back the ache I felt in my chest.

Slowly, I focused on my breathing. I paid close attention to the way the water delicately draped my back, a caress of velvet, allowing it to soothe me into this moment. The here and now. My tear burdened lashes fluttered shut and I inhaled through my nose. I concentrated on the coconut and rosewood scent of my shampoo. The water circling the drain—a bubbling fountain in the spring. Everything felt miserably dull, every muscle and joint and organ felt weighted. My heart felt especially heavy bound to its cage.

'....You have your strength, and you get it from your mother.'

She was strong; I would be too.

'....The boys will need you; they'll need that strength.'

So, on wobbly legs I rose to my feet and counted down from thirty. My chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm by the end. Then I tucked everything back behind that wavering curtain of poise. One foot in front of the other was the only way I'd learned to move forward—the way Noah had once taught me.

I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. One foot first, then the other. Wrapping a towel around my chest, I clung to it as I stared at my swollen reflection in the fog-filled mirror. "You only break if you allow yourself to be broken," I whispered. I wouldn't let this break me either.

A fist hit the door and I jumped. "Chloe! There better be hot water when I get in that shower."

I sighed and watched as the steam crept back into the thick, crescent shaped swipe over the glass, and I disappeared behind it. It's said—true or not—fractures heal stronger. We may have fissured yet again, but we weren't broken, I wouldn't allow us to break.

Quickly, I unlocked Noah's door and turned for mine before he could question my red rimmed eyes and puffy nose. I didn't dare a snarky comeback for fear my voice would tremble. My throat was raw and throbbed as I swallowed, the heartache like splintered shards of glass.

— • —

It was ten in the morning, and for how hot and humid it was outside, I shivered in the modernly erect lobby. The gray, granite poured floors appeared slick in the arid expanse as they reached for the floor to ceiling windows across the room. The sky was clear, the shabby blue hue casting a glacial sheen onto the walls.

The glass topped coffee table with stainless steel legs caught the light and flared out of the corner of my eye. Everything about the building felt void and barren, and it had me sitting rigid in the white leather chair I was perched on the edge of. There wasn't a single picture hanging from any of the walls around us, and I'd looked. I'd searched for anything that would remind me that our parents had once been in this sterile twelve story building. That this was where they'd found comfort in knowing their children would be taken care of should something happen to them.

Maybe what was waiting for me down the hall, where the phones rang and formal greetings echoed into our holding cell, had the chill racing up my spine. Because that's what it felt like; the single slim piece of paper that would spell out the next two years weighing on me like a pending life sentence.

I clicked my heels against the arctic stone repeatedly, unable to still my knees. As Brody continually tugged on the neck of his navy blue tie, my legs picked up momentum. Luca jammed the rolled sleeves of his shirt up his forearms, and I dug my nails into my thighs as I gripped the embroidered hem of my dress.

I glanced at Noah. He ripped open the top button of his own collared shirt, then raked a hand through his blonde hair for the third time since we'd been directed to 'make ourselves comfortable' in this formal arrangement of chairs.

The stress of today was wearing on him, I knew the signs. He was grasping for anything to rid the anxiety I was watching build. He dropped his hands to his sides when he caught me staring.

"C." He clamped a set of fingers around my knee. "Quit. You're making the rest of us anxious."

"Sorry," I mumbled, and looked away. The apology was for getting caught witnessing the angst induced spiral he was headed for. We had an understanding, and he knew the acknowledgment didn't have anything to do with my own display of anxiety.

Tugging, I pulled the skirt of my dress over my knees. I leaned forward, my elbows pressed into my legs. Absent-mindedly, I fingered the chain of my necklace.

"You took your Keppra this morning?" Luca asked, quietly. It grabbed my attention and I found him bowed over his knees, too. His fingers laced and they turned pale when I wasn't quick with a reply.

I sighed. He asked every morning. And every night. I knew it was because he worried; what didn't he worry about? My epilepsy was no exception. I bit my tongue on a snarky remark. "Yes."

He nodded and hung his head, rubbing his clasped fingers across his brow.

Behind me I heard Noah start to pace. If I stole a glance, he'd be eyeing the door. I could say it was the day, but truthfully, the events of the last several days were starting to overwhelm him. Luca and B wouldn't know that the more emotionally involved he was asked to be, the more overwhelmed he became, which in turn made him distant. They saw the act; the carefree spirit, the urge to keep partying, the snarky stabs he threw when they asked all the wrong questions that would draw anyone closer to the truth. Noah would never admit it, but the signs were everywhere. He wasn't sleeping. He was out partying when he should be grieving. His words became harsh and careless when he was backed against a wall. Like he was now; like he'd been all week.

So, I did the only thing that I knew to do.

It was easy, the tears were packed anyway in abundance, I just released a few and let them drop at my feet. They were genuine, I didn't have to force or fake them. Then I sat up and swiped the tips of my fingers beneath my lashes. Luca glanced over and soon B knelt down in front of me. It didn't take long for Noah to notice and he too was beside me; away from the door he'd been eyeing. His fingers slipped from his pocket where he'd been tapping them against the pack of cigarettes he'd use as his excuse to step outside and not come back.

"What is taking so long?" I gasped, because in reality that's what I was afraid of; what would happen to me now?

Brody took my hand and his thumb softly stroked the top of my wrist. "They're just getting everything in order, it should be any minute."

I bit the inside of my cheek and turned away from the gentle understanding in his eyes. Slowly, I raised my gaze to Noah standing over me. His hand came to rest on my back as he lowered himself next to Brody. The farther I went into my own head the more it seemed to pull him out of his. It was dangerous, the game we played. It was always one of us sacrificing ourselves for the other.

"Mom and dad would've only made the decision that was best for you." Meaning, I would come before dad's disagreement with Brody's lifestyle. Or Luca's football career. I wasn't so sure. "You know that, you trust them," he said.

I did, but none of the possible scenarios made sense, and I'd played them all out. Luca and Noah were in school. Brody hadn't spent any amount of time with our family in a long time. There were no cousins, no aunts and uncles. I didn't remember our mom's parents; her mom died when she was young, her dad passed away a few years after I was born. That only left our dad's father—Grandfather—and he was the last person dad would've ever left me with. I hoped. I prayed.

'...you trust them.' I did.

"Look at me, Chloe." I heard the authority in Noah's voice. When I would normally choose to ignore him, falling further into the subversion of my own mind that I was trapping myself into as I tried to save Noah—"I said look at me."—I never could.

So, I surrendered.

If you didn't know what to look for, the narrowed glare and stern scowl might have come across as enraged disapproval or petty annoyance. I saw the assurance; that his words were as good as the truth. But we'd had years of shared, silent looks logged between us, stored in a library only we had access to. "It will work out."

He didn't know that, but what he did know was that however it played out, he would make it work out. That was the promise. And as easily as ever, I believed him.

Luca's arm slung around my shoulders, dragging me in his direction. I felt the hard press of his lips to the top of my head. "They loved you, they would make sure you were taken care of."

I slipped my hand into his and imagined the rough, calloused fingers were dads and it was his words being whispered into my ear. It was a brutal escape from reality for the both of us. Luca imagined I was still the little girl who needed him to be strong for me, and he was those small glimpses of our dad I needed him to be.

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• losing ruby •

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