Under the Table(39)
Ruth must have noticed it too, because she was back to trying to sound airy and carefree.
“Look, I’m sorry.” She laughed cheerfully. “Thanks for coming to the rescue. I’m grateful. Now don’t be mad at me, okay? I’ve had a rough day.”
Blake’s face didn’t change. In fact, his frown got deeper. Zoey thought he was going to turn and walk away but instead he said, near to a whisper, “I wanted you to need me.”
“What kind of bullshit is that?” Ruth replied crossly.
“I wanted us to need each other. Ruth, I’ve been waiting almost a year to catch you in between hookups and drama. So that maybe I could convince you to give a relationship with me a try. I’ve had feelings for you since the first time I saw you. I’ve replayed the night we spent together in my mind a thousand times. After my marriage broke up, I never thought I’d feel that way about another woman again. I’m sorry if I stuck my nose in where it didn’t belong. I waited for days after your arrest for you to tell me about it. It hurt so much that you didn’t, but I thought that maybe you were too embarrassed. Now I realize, you’ll never need me. I don’t think you’ll ever need anybody. But I don’t want to be your secret bodyguard anymore. And I can’t be your friend. I’m sorry, Ruth, but the party’s over for me.”
His voice had started to tremble by the end. He was crushed—it was written all over his face. Any fool could see. Zoey wished the floor would open up and swallow her, to remove her from being privy to this painful conversation.
Blake didn’t wait for a response. As soon as he finished, he turned on his heel and walked away. Zoey looked to Ruth, waiting for her sister to follow him and not let him get away. But Ruth was watching Blake leave too, her arms crossed over her chest and her mouth slightly agape.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Zoey said accusingly, breaking Ruth out of her reverie.
“What? Don’t look at me like that. I had no idea he felt that way.”
“Well, now you know.”
“I’ll call him later, it’ll be fine.” Ruth tried to resume her breezy tone.
“You think a man like Blake makes that sort of speech just to hear himself talk?” Zoey spat, shaking her head in pure disgust. “You’re an idiot.”
Zoey thought she might actually start to scream. Not only had Ruth come out on top in another one of her escapades, but another man also had been kicked to the curb after having jumped through enormous hoops to get her attention. Only this was a good man, who didn’t deserve a casual blow-off. With a snort of derision, Zoey followed Blake out the door, ignoring the single time Ruth called her name. Ruth was on her own with this one, Zoey reflected.
Back out on the street, Zoey blinked at the sun, which temporarily blinded her, then headed in the direction of home. Everything always works out for Ruth, Zoey once again marveled. The only lesson Ruth had learned was that she really did have the power to make men act like morons. Shaking her head and muttering to herself, Zoey turned into the first liquor store she saw.
*
When Tristan opened the door, Zoey was already light-headed and leaning against the wall beside it.
“I’m seeking refuge,” she said.
“This can’t be good,” he murmured as she sauntered past him into the living room, carrying a brown paper bag with a bottle in it.
“It went badly for Ruth?” Tristan asked when he joined her.
“Oh no,” Zoey said dramatically, taking another swallow out of the bottle after landing on the couch. “It went just dandy. All the charges were dropped and she got off without so much as a warning.”
“Then why have you taken to getting drunk in public?”
“Who says I’m drunk?” Zoey countered.
“What you’re doing right here is what I like to call ‘Classic American Wino.’”
Zoey held up the bottle by the top of the neck and let the bag slip off and fall to the ground, revealing a single bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. “For your information, this isn’t wine, it’s a malt beverage. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t sell me a single bottle, so I took it upon myself to distribute the rest of the pack to some legit winos, but they didn’t care about hiding them. So there.”
“I stand corrected.”
“I would also like to point out that the whole notion that your weight is somehow relevant to how much liquor you can hold is a bunch of tripe,” Zoey added after draining what was left in the bottle. “Another one of these and I’d be seeing double.”
“Have you eaten?”
“No.” She snorted. “I was busy getting the Teflon Dominatrix ready for court.”
Tristan laughed a little and sat down on the couch beside her. “I’m not sure I understand what the problem is. It sounds like a positive outcome, so why is your nose so out of joint?”
“Because this has been happening for the better part of my life! For as long as I can remember, Ruth has been doing irresponsible stuff and someone, usually me, is always covering for her or picking up the pieces. I’m sick of her always getting exactly what she wants. I’m sick of her not caring if she hurts people.”
Zoey stopped, midrant. There was so much more she wanted to vent. How Zoey had become sick to death of catering to Ruth’s need for immediate gratification. Zoey wanted to rage and then weep with the realization that she had jumped from the frying pan into the fire when she married Derek, who had many of the same characteristics.