Chapter 8 Erin
Erin
Mom encouraged Ruby and me to go out and spend time together, and we decided to go to the movies one night.
It was easier than talking, I suppose, because it was still awkward between us.
As soon as we left the apartment, Ruby took me to a bar.
Nobody carded us. I had only had alcohol a few times before at parties.
I had three beers while Ruby drank five vodka Cokes and got completely wasted.
Afterwards, she wanted us to go to a nightclub.
I put my foot down. I wanted to go home.
This new Ruby was a stranger to me, composed and adult in some ways but completely wilful and childish in others.
The next night she wanted to go to another bar, and I said no.
She sulked the whole evening while we watched some videos of old films that Mom loved, anything with Patrick Swayze in it.
Ruby opened another bottle of wine for this.
Grandma came over for dinner one evening.
It was great to see her, and I could tell she had a special bond with Ruby.
Mom opened a bottle of wine and Ruby drank most of it.
Mom didn’t comment. It seemed like I was the only one that noticed.
I decided to go to Dublin every second year. A week was as much as I could bear. Mom came to visit me in the intervening years, but Ruby never came back to Boston.
Going to Harvard was liberating. Studying English and History meant a whole lot of reading, much more than I’d anticipated, but I was no longer surrounded by echoes of Milo or Ruby.
Living on campus wasn’t exactly as comfortable as home, and I learned quickly how to survive using a microwave and TV dinners, but I could go home as often as I wanted.
Dad and I still took turns to cook on Sundays after church once a month.
Occasionally I would bring my room-mate home too.
Carla was Puerto Rican and the first girl in her family’s history to go to college.
Her older brothers all worked in construction, and she was the baby of the family.
Dad liked her. She played our keyboard and thought our house was awesome. That’s what Milo had said.
One Sunday, I brought Carla home to find that Dad had a guest of his own, Kathy Brown.
I could tell that Dad liked Kathy the first time I saw her.
She looked exactly like Mom but younger by a decade, and her blonde hair was less natural than Mom’s.
If Dad had a type, it seemed, it was a beautiful waif or stray that he could rescue.
Kathy was from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, like in the song.
She had grown up dirt poor and worked as a nursing assistant in Mass General.
She came to our church because of the sewing circle, she said.
I don’t remember her being there before Mom left.
But she stood out. Her clothing was always a little eccentric, patchwork coats and weirdly shaped hats and an awful lot of lace.
There was no overlap between Mom and Kathy, Dad was too honourable for that.
But when Dad started seeing Kathy outside the church, I knew where it was heading.
Dad told me before he told Mom that they were going to be divorced.
I was expecting it. It was May 2002. I called Ruby and she said Mom was shocked.
Mom did well financially out of the divorce.
Though she liked her job as a school secretary, a one-off settlement meant that she never had to work again and I think that softened the blow.
She didn’t give up the job – I guess it gave her a purpose.
Ruby said she didn’t care. It sounded to me like she cared a whole lot, but wasn’t going to let it show.
In September 2002, I received an anonymous letter hand-delivered to my dorm.
I hope you’re happy now. Milo’s mom, Elaine Kelly, jumped into the Charles River two weeks ago.
She took her own life, but I think you took it, Coopers.
She could never accept your family’s lies.
You should tell your sister, wherever she’s hiding, that she killed Mrs Kelly.
She’ll probably kill Milo too, he’s not doing too well in prison, but I guess you don’t care about that.
Neither of you spoiled brats care about anyone except yourselves. Burn in hell, Coopers.
It was Margie or maybe Milo’s friend, Ben Roche.
It had to be one of them, or maybe someone from Milo’s neighbourhood.
Who would write such a letter? I was shocked by the news, though.
Poor Mrs Kelly. She loved Milo so much and he had destroyed her.
He had thrown her pride in him back in her face.
Though he hadn’t even completed his first year in college and had no guarantee of graduating in medicine, she used to say, ‘My Milo, a doctor, can you imagine?’ I had been fond of her.
She always made such an effort for church, and I was never invited to their home because Milo said she was ashamed of how small it was, but I didn’t even know if that was true.
I called Ruby in Dublin. I wanted her to feel the hurt I felt.
She was drunk when she answered her cellphone.
She didn’t have much to say about Mrs Kelly, just, ‘That’s terrible, why would she do that?
’ I hung up on the call. I knew it wasn’t logical to blame my sister, but I did.
Even though I realized she would be angry, I called Margie at home. ‘Hi, it’s Erin. I’m sorry about your mom,’ I said and, before I’d finished the last word, the phone went dead. Poor Margie was on her own. Milo had destroyed his own family.
The year 2002 was also when the Catholic Church scandal rocked Boston.
Priests had sexually abused minors and there was a network of cover-ups.
I remembered Milo saying that was why his mom came to Dad’s church, looking for a new start.
She knew all about clerical abuse. It was ironic.
If only she could have accepted that she had raised a predator.