A little later, while reading the paper, Elaine pointed out to Gordon the picture of an Indian potentate, reputed to be one of the richest men in the world.
“Of course he’d have to be rich,” Elaine said sharply, “in order to be able to afford a harem.”
Gordon did not defend himself any more than Ruby had when her landlady asked her to leave.
Monday noon, before she left for work, the landlady knocked on her door and when Ruby failed to answer she let herself in with a passkey.
Ruby was sitting on the edge of the bed in her slip, doubled over as if she had a cramp.
“What’s the matter, girl? You sick or something?”
“No.”
“You found a place yet?”
“No. I haven’t had much chance to look.”
“Just so’s you’re out by Thursday. This is the best room in the house and I want—”
“It’s ugly,” Ruby said, without raising her head. “It’s the ugliest room in the world.”
“Mind your tongue or I’ll kick you out right now.”
“My rent’s paid.”
“Girls like you, there’s a place for them and it’s not in any respectable home like this one.”
When the landlady had gone, Ruby got up and opened the closet door. The red fox fur was lying on the shelf, its glass eyes bright as jewels. Her aunt wanted the fur back; she’d written two letters about it, stating that she wanted it to wear at the wedding of a relative of hers. Though Ruby didn’t actually need the fur, she was reluctant to send it back because it reminded her of Gordon and the first night she had arrived in town — it was a symbol of the happy future she had imagined then. To relinquish the fox fur now would be an admission of failure and an acknowledgment that the happy future had already come and gone. She still loved Gordon but not in the pure distilled sense she had at first. Some of the pollutions of circumstance had seeped in, the squalor of her life, the room she’d lived in, the eternal smell of grease in Mr. Gomez’s café, the endless cups of bitter coffee, the endless waiting, the hope that had sickened but refused to die. If she sent the fox fur back she might as well go with it, go home, and never see Gordon again. But at the thought of a world without Gordon her heart contracted in a spasm of fear. She stood for a long time in the dark little clothes closet pressing her face against the red fox and wondering what she could do or say or become to make Gordon love her again.
On Wednesday when she went to work she called Gordon from the pay phone behind the wharf warehouse. He answered the phone himself.
“Dr. Foster’s office.”
“Hello, Gordon?”
“Hello.”
“Is there anybody there? Can you talk?”
“There’s no one here.”
“Why haven’t I seen you? Is there anything the matter, Gordon?”
“I couldn’t get away,” Gordon said wearily. “Ever since the business about the fifty-dollar check, the assumption is that I’m an insane gambler and not to be trusted even to go for a walk alone.”
“You sound so bitter.”
“I don’t mean to. Are you all right, Ruby?”
“Naturally.”
“Did you find a place to move to?”
“Not yet. When will I see you, Gordon?”
“God knows. When I can think up a new lie, I guess.”
“I’ll be waiting tonight after I get through work.”
“No, don’t. I can’t — I can’t stand the thought of you just sitting there in that place waiting for me. You don’t understand — I feel as if I’ve got to be there and yet I can’t get there. It tears me apart, I can’t tell you — I—”
“I won’t wait if you don’t want me to,” Ruby said quickly.
“Do you understand? Just for one night I want to feel that I don’t have to be two places at once, that no one’s expecting anything of me. I know, I guess this sounds childish, but just for this one night I’ve got to be a free agent. Don’t you ever feel like that, Ruby?”
“No. I don’t want to be a free agent. I like to wait for you, even if you don’t come. What else would I do if I didn’t wait for you?”
She hung up, and for a minute she sat staring listlessly into the round black mouth of the telephone. What else would. I do if I didn’t wait for Gordon?
That night after work she walked to the edge of the wharf and stood with her forearms resting on the rail, watching the lights of the town. The lights flickered halfway up the mountain so that the town seemed to be pinned to the side of the mountain with stars. On the wharf the lights were going out one by one. Everyone was leaving, except the customers in the bar. The kitchen was closed, and the waitresses and the kitchen help were departing, in twos and threes. They walked quickly, on the balls of their feet so their heels wouldn’t catch in the gaps between the planks. They were all anxious to get back on the dry land since it was common talk that the wharf was heading for disintegration and no one was doing anything to stop it. Occasionally some haphazard repair work was done and a few of the rotting piles were replaced, but this did not mitigate the sense of imminent doom among the people who worked at the Beachcomber. This feeling was nurtured by the cashier, a woman called Virginia, who had escaped certain death for five years now, six nights a week. To newcomers like Ruby, Virginia was careful to point out that the wharf was nearly eighty years old, and aside from the natural deterioration of the years there was also the strong possibility of a bad storm or a tidal wave.
“Mark my words,” Virginia said. “One of these days we’ll all find ourselves in the ocean hanging onto anything that floats. And you know what I’m going to do then? I’m going to sue them! I’m going to sue the whole damn bunch of them, the owners of the wharf and the city that grants the franchise and Anderson and his outfit, and when I collect I’m going to retire, build a house in the middle of the desert and live the life of Riley. Maybe we could all sue them and all of us retire.”
The hired help of the Beachcomber were drawn together, by Virginia’s enthusiasm, into a common dread and a common dream. The life of Riley appealed to them, and those among them who couldn’t swim found themselves eyeing the furnishings of the Beachcomber with the quality of buoyancy in mind.
When Virginia saw Ruby leaning against the railing she paused a moment to proffer advice. She reminded Ruby that the railing was nearly eighty years old, that it was quite a drop into the sea, and the water was cold and deep. Moreover if Ruby drowned she couldn’t even sue anybody, being dead.
Having survived one more day, Virginia sped back to land.
Ruby leaned her full weight on the railing. I wouldn’t care, she thought. I wouldn’t care about drowning except I wouldn’t like the water to be very cold. Gordon might be sorry for a while but he’d be glad too. He wouldn’t have to think or worry about me any more, he wouldn’t have to feel obliged to me all the time. It would be a relief to him if I died.
She began walking slowly toward shore. She wondered which of the lights of the town belonged to Gordon and what he was doing. Reading? Or perhaps he was already asleep? Poor Gordon. She hadn’t meant to cause him so much trouble. Everything had seemed very harmless and right to her in the beginning. All she wanted was to be in the same town as Gordon and to see him now and then. It wasn’t a great deal to ask for, but she hadn’t foreseen how even this much might affect Gordon’s life. Instead of making him happy she had only made him despise himself, and her too. There was no way that she could give back to Gordon his dignity and self-respect. Nothing could dissolve the feeling of degradation that Gordon had had the night he dampened his hair under the tap in the public lavatory. He had told her about it, and Ruby understood his rage and humiliation and guilt. He had said, “I can’t stand it,” and she believed now that this was true. Gordon was destroying himself and she was the instrument of destruction.