15
“I suppose sandwiches will have to do,” Ruth said with a sigh, looking at me pointedly as it became apparent that I had not picked up dinner. When I said nothing, she turned back to the fireman. “She’s quite a ... decent cook, when she has an oven, you know.”
More than I can say for you, I thought, bristling. Then it dawned on me that if Ruth was almost complimenting my cooking ... “Ruth,” I said quietly, gesturing for her to join me in the singed kitchen. She excused herself and followed me.
“You’re being so rude to our guest,” she chided. “And you should really go change into a nicer dress. You’re still in what you wore to work.”
“What is he doing here?”
“Well, he seemed so nice that I invited him for dinner. A Jewish firefighter. Who would have thought?”
“Yes, but why did you invite him?”
“I just told you. He seemed so nice. And handsome. Just look at him.”
She was impossible. “I shouldn’t have to say this to Harry’s mother, but I’m not interested in this man.”
“Well, not to marry, of course. A firefighter would never do. Too dangerous a profession. You don’t want to lose two husbands. But he’s nice to look at, and you could do with a little fun. Loosen you up.”
I’d be so much looser without you in my house . “Ruth, your idea of fun and mine are pretty different. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m sending him home.” I started to leave the room.
Ruth grabbed my arm. “But I asked him to dinner.”
I turned to look at her, and whatever she saw on my face made her drop my arm.
“You’re absolutely right,” she said. “Much better that he come on a night when we can serve him a hot meal. Don’t worry—I’ll cook when he comes back. We’ll tell him it was you.”
If I didn’t leave the room, I was going to say—or do—something I would wind up regretting. Eventually. Right then I would have zero regrets. But instead, I demonstrated remarkable control by returning to the living room.
“Mr. Waterman—”
“Barry.”
I looked at him again. He was handsome. I did have to give Ruth credit for her taste.
But he also looked twenty-five at most. “Mr. Waterman,” I repeated firmly.
“There seems to have been a misunderstanding. I’m terribly sorry, but my mother-in-law isn’t feeling well after all the excitement today, and I think it’s best if it’s just family tending to her. ”
“No,” Ruth said, coming in from the kitchen. “I feel just fine—” I shot her a look sharp enough to cut stone. “Yes,” she said uncertainly. “I must have breathed in a little more smoke than I thought.”
“You should go to the hospital,” Mr. Waterman said. “Smoke inhalation can be—”
“She’ll be fine,” I said. “But I think it’s best if you leave now.”
He looked from her to me. “Okay. If she gets any shortness of breath or is coughing up mucus, she should really see a doctor. And not wait until morning.”
“Yes, Mr. Waterman, I work at the hospital. I’m familiar with smoke inhalation.”
He didn’t look convinced. No, I wasn’t a nurse, but he didn’t know that. “Call an ambulance if that happens. Don’t drive her yourself.”
“I have no intention of driving her anywhere,” I assured him as I ushered him toward the door.
“Good night, Mr. Waterman.” I shut it firmly behind him and leaned on it for a moment with my eyes closed, trying to steel myself for an evening with Ruth before the children went to bed and I could tell her it was time to leave.
“Was he really a fireman?” Bobby asked.
I opened my eyes. “I believe he was.” Bobby started to laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“Fireman Waterman.”
It was probably the stress, but I started to giggle as well, and soon I was full-out laughing so hard that I bent over, my hands on my knees.
When I finally got myself under control, I ruffled Bobby’s hair and told him to go wash up for supper.
Then I looked up at the ceiling and shook my head.
“I know, I know. You think this is all hilarious.”
Once the children were in bed, I came downstairs and poured myself a drink. If Ruth stayed much longer, I’d have to go buy more liquor. I downed the whole thing and set the glass in the sink. Nope. She was leaving. I couldn’t handle another day of this.
I went into the living room and snapped the television off. “I was watching that,” Ruth said mildly.
“We need to talk.”
She put her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I learned my lesson. No more using the oven for storage.”
“Ruth. You could have burned the house down. You could have killed yourself or me or the kids.”
“But I didn’t.”
“But you could have. And while it’s been ... lovely ... having you here, I think it’s time that you head back to your house.”
Her nostrils flared slightly, which was the only indication that she’d heard what I said.
“We can figure out more visits,” I said. “I know you want the kids to know you better, and they seem to want that too, so I’m entirely open to—”
“No,” Ruth said.
“No what?”
“No, I’m not going anywhere. You still need me and so do the kids. You just don’t know it yet.”
I sighed. “Ruth, that’s just it. I do know what I need. It’s why I sent my mother home. I need to be able to run my own home and take care of my kids. My own way.”
There was a long pause, where I almost thought I’d won.
“Barbara,” she said quietly, but with a steel in her voice that I hadn’t heard before.
“I had no help when Abe died. None. And I raised Harry the best that I could. Some days, it was enough. Most days, it wasn’t.
They don’t give you a medal for doing everything yourself.
And whether you like it or not, I’m not letting you or my grandchildren go through that just because you want to be a martyr.
So here I am, and here I’ll stay until it’s time for me to go.
” She crossed her arms. “And not a moment before.”
She had said her mother-in-law was horrible. “What would you have done if your mother-in-law moved in when Abe died?”
“Probably been pretty frightened as she’d been dead for six years,” Ruth admitted.
I stomped my foot, knowing I looked like a petulant child, but unable to stop myself. She was impossible. “You have to go home!”
She cocked her head at me. “The house is gone, Barbara,” she said quietly. “Where exactly do you want me to go?”
My mouth opened and closed wordlessly. “Gone?” I finally sputtered. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
Ruth waved a hand in the air. “Taxes, something.” Then she looked knowingly at me. “I gave Harry my savings for a down payment on this house. Didn’t you know that?”
I didn’t. But my heart sank as I realized I had just lost. I couldn’t throw her out, penniless, into the cold.
She stood, scooping the puppy up and patting me on the shoulder as she left the room. “You’ll thank me eventually,” she said.
I sank down into the armchair, suddenly too exhausted even to go to bed, my head spinning with this new influx of information. Ruth’s house—the house Harry had grown up in—was gone. Just like that. Poof.
Could I get it back? My little nest egg from the hospital was modest, but she couldn’t have owed that much in taxes, and she had owned the house flat out—if she hadn’t mortgaged it for ours.
I had learned more than I ever wanted to know about money in the last two years, but I had no idea how any of that worked.
I doubted I could get it back without putting a major dent in the insurance money. And in my mind, that was for the kids, who loved their grandmother and would happily keep her living with us. They deserved to be able to use that money to start their own families, their own lives.
I put my head in my hands, defeated. This was my life now. Enduring Ruth for the rest of hers. With no way out.
But Ruth had one remaining sister, in Boston.
You’ll thank me eventually, she’d said. Well, what if I didn’t?
What if, instead, I showed her we really did have this all handled and how superfluous she was?
I thought of Janet saying how making her mother-in-law miserable was Shakespearean.
I grinned at the high school memory of the play.
Petruchio gets Katherine to marry him by killing her with kindness before flipping the switch.
Well, what if I could get Ruth to indefinitely visit her sister the same way?
And if she wouldn’t go stay with her sister, well, the money from the hospital could pay for a small apartment. I didn’t love the idea of working just to support Ruth, but in reality, I would be buying my own peace of mind.
She’ll never take it, Harry whispered in my head.
I looked skyward and gritted my teeth. “Then I’ll tell her you put it aside to support her in her old age.”
There was no reply.
Eventually, I heard Ruth’s bedroom door close and stood to make my way up to my own room. I needed sleep after all—this was war.