6
Ruby had never lived in a small town before, and she was unaware of the speed and intricacy of its grapevine. She assumed that she had in Channel City the same anonymity she had in San Francisco, and that no one knew about the relationship between Gordon Foster and herself, not even the owner of the café which was their meeting place.
She was not interested in or curious about the other people and she rarely paid any attention to them even when she was sitting waiting for Gordon and had nothing to do but drink coffee. She would have been surprised to learn that at least a dozen habitués of the café knew her and Gordon by sight and guessed the relationship, and several more knew them by name and were sure of the relationship. In the latter group was Al Gomez, who owned the café, and Gordon Foster’s wife, Elaine. Neither nature nor experience had equipped Gordon for a life of intrigue, and Elaine had found out about Ruby a week after Ruby arrived in town.
Elaine, as a churchwoman and the mother of three children, believed in divorce even less than she believed in marriage and Gordon, so she didn’t discuss the subject of Ruby at all. She merely telephoned the café two or three times in an evening, and asked Mr. Gomez politely to send Gordon home, one of the children had a sore throat, or a wrenched knee, or a headache, or a spot that might be measles. She never asked to speak to Gordon personally; she used Mr. Gomez as the messenger. This proved, at first, to be an effective device, for the messages, delivered in Gomez’s harsh, low voice sounded quite alarming. Mr. Gomez would shuffle over to the back booth where Ruby and Gordon were sitting, fix Gordon with his hot little eyes, and croak, “Wife says one of the kids fell out of bed, broke his arm.”
These messages, however startling they were in the beginning, had gradually lost their power, and the only people who were affected by them any longer were Gomez, who was tired of answering the phone, Ruby, who was infuriated by Elaine’s wily deceptions, and the two older Foster children. They had learned for the first time, listening to their mother on the telephone, that they were frail and mortal, surrounded by their enemy, death. They developed hourly symptoms, and screamed in real terror over a scratch or a bruise. Elaine, who believed she loved her children, was very much concerned because her five-year-old boy suffered from nightmares, and the girl, seven, was disgustingly fat from overeating. The girl found solace in food; even during school hours, or in bed at night, she chewed surreptitiously. As a result she frequently suffered abdominal pains which were relayed to Gordon, via Mr. Gomez: “The wife phoned, says one of the kids got a bust appendix.”
“Thank you, Gomez.”
“Or maybe polio.”
“If she phones again, tell her I’ve left.”
“Check.”
“Polio,” Ruby said, clenching her fists until the knuckles showed white. “Polio.”
“I’d better be leaving, Ruby.”
“But you just got here.”
“I know.”
“I hardly ever see you.”
“I know that too.”
When no one was looking, he kissed her goodbye.
He was often late for their meetings in the back booth, and sometimes he didn’t show up at all. Ruby would sit there the entire evening, sipping coffee, which was all she could afford, and watching the front door until her eyes went out of focus and her face looked drunken in its owlish intensity.
Once in a while Mr. Gomez would pause on his way to or from the kitchen.
“Late, eh?”
“Oh, he’ll be along. He should be here any minute.”
“Maybe the wife says no.”
“She’s always saying no. That wouldn’t make any difference. He’ll be here, I’m not worried.”
“Married man.”
Mr. Gomez’s abbreviated speeches, delivered in a cracked monotone, were difficult to understand. Ruby was not certain whether he was telling her that he too was a married man and knew how it was with wives, or whether he was reproving her for having a date with a married man. It worried her. She fancied reproach in his eyes and she wanted to slap his face, the dirty little Mex, but also to explain to him that she loved Gordon, she’d given up everything just to live in the same town he did.
“It’s not fair,” she screamed mentally at Mr. Gomez, who was frying a hamburger. “It’s not fair! She’s got everything — Gordon and the house and the kids, and all I’ve got is the back booth in this lousy little joint!”
The smell of grease rose from the griddle, clung to the walls and seeped into the very pores of Ruby’s skin, blending with the cologne she had splashed on her wrists for Gordon. She felt a little nauseated and dizzy from all the coffee she had drunk, but she sat with her eyes fixed glassily on the front door. Whenever the door opened her mouth got set, ready to smile; when it closed again, and Gordon was still missing, her heart shrank and oozed its juices like the hamburger Mr. Gomez was frying on the griddle.
She never gave up hope until Gomez changed the sign on the front door from “Open” to “Closed.” Then she rose, picked up her handbag and the fox fur, and said goodnight to Gomez, very gaily, letting him know that she wasn’t at all disappointed, and that, Gordon Foster or no Gordon Foster, this was how she liked to spend her evenings, sipping coffee in Mr. Gomez’s delightful back booth.
“How the time flies,” she said brightly. “I was so interested sitting here watching the people I didn’t realize how late it was getting. You certainly have an interesting place here!”
She didn’t fool Gomez, who hated the place more than she did, and she didn’t fool herself either. As soon as she stepped outside, the cold sea wind slapped the smile off her face. I hate him, she thought, running down the street. I hate him. I’ll get back at him. I’ll get even. I’ll go and see his wife. He’ll be sorry.
But Gordon’s sorrow had already begun, and it was deeper than Ruby realized. It was the sorrow of failure. He had failed Elaine and the children, he had failed Ruby, and he had failed himself. A more self-assured man might have taken a firm stand one way or the other. The only solution Gordon could think of was to go away for a while and leave the burden of decision up to Elaine and Ruby. A vacation, he called it, when he mentioned it to Elaine. He said he thought he’d take a little trip.
“To San Francisco again?” Elaine said with sweet irony.
“What do you mean, again?”
“I only meant that you seem to have had such a gay time there a couple of months ago.”
“You’ve got a funny idea of a gay time,” Gordon said. “I was at lectures damn near all day, every day.” After one lecture he had picked Ruby up in a hotel lobby but he still couldn’t understand why Elaine should suspect this. “That was a business trip. A dentist has to keep up with the latest developments and equipment. This time I want a holiday. I thought of Mexico, Ensenada perhaps.”
“Mexico?”
“What’s the matter with Mexico?”
“Did I say there was anything the matter with Mexico, dear?”
“You said it as if you suddenly smelled a bad smell.”
Elaine smiled gently. “There you go imagining things again, dear. You’re getting so sensitive. I wonder if it could be glandular.”
“Listen, I know how you said ‘Mexico.’ Don’t try and kid me.”
“Really, Gordon, you’re becoming impossible. I’ve thought time and again that perhaps you should go and see a doctor. Glandular disturbances are common at your age.”