Something She's Not Telling Us - Darcey Bell Page 0,50
we want.”
“That’s reassuring,” says Rocco.
“It is what it is,” says Mom. “This place isn’t for everyone.”
“No place is,” says Rocco.
“Amen, son,” says Mom.
Charlotte puts Daisy to bed, then returns to the kitchen to find Rocco still trying to reach Ruth. Mom keeps mixing margaritas, and she and Charlotte and Eli keep drinking.
In the morning, Charlotte awakens with no memory of how she got to bed. She assumes Eli tucked her in. A star of pain blazes between her eyes.
Daisy runs into the room and jumps into bed between her parents. Charlotte’s throat hurts. She needs water. Now. She rolls Daisy over toward Eli and goes into the kitchen.
Rocco and Mom are sitting at the table, and there, standing by the sink, is Ruth, doing all the talking. Rocco has his back to Charlotte, who sees that Mom is openmouthed. Dumbstruck. That Mom is listening to someone else for this long is shocking in itself.
Charlotte’s surprised by how happy she is to see Ruth, or maybe she’s just relieved. When she hugs Ruth hello, she can sense Ruth making sure that Mom is watching. Ruth wants Mom to see that she belongs, she’s already part of their tribe, so Mom might as well get on board. It’s not exactly the truth, and besides, Ruth is misjudging Mom if she thinks that Mom cares what the rest of them think.
“When did you get here?” asks Charlotte.
Rocco answers for her, “Three in the morning. Tell Charlotte what you told us.”
“The short version,” Ruth says, “since I already told you.”
“Definitely,” Mom says. “The highlights.” It seems possible—no, clear—that Mom doesn’t like her, and that Ruth doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. This evening, Mom will not appreciate her turning down a margarita to show that she’s supporting Rocco.
Ruth says, “I missed my connection. This nice woman at the airline desk helped me find a driver who would get me here, so I wouldn’t have to stay in Mexico City.”
“That’s a seven-hour drive,” Charlotte says.
Ruth says, “Six and a half. And the driver wasn’t speeding. He seemed like a nice guy. He drove very smoothly. His English wasn’t one hundred percent. But we could communicate. No problemo. He made it clear that he wasn’t going to rape and murder me—or charge the stupid gringa a fortune.
“But here’s the crazy part. Outside Oaxaca he stopped the car for no reason, and all these . . . all these . . . skinny dirty children ran out from the bushes. They swarmed the car, they just . . . swarmed it. They had their hands out, begging. The driver yelled at me to roll up the windows, but I had the feeling that he was part of it, that he’d brought me there because he wanted me to give them money. I asked him if he could drive on without hurting the children. He edged through the crowd, and finally the kids scattered and ran back into the shrubs. Wasn’t that a crazy thing to happen in the middle of the night?”
“That is the crazy part all right.” Rocco sounds impatient. And tired. Especially tired.
Mom says, “In all my years here I’ve never heard anything remotely like it.”
Charlotte doesn’t know if any of them believe Ruth’s story about the kids. But why would Ruth make that up? Charlotte can hardly interrogate her brother’s girlfriend, who has come all the way to Mexico to celebrate Mom’s birthday. It would only make the situation more awkward than it already is.
Charlotte says, “Strange. Really strange.”
Rocco and Mom are disappointed. They’d expected something more from Charlotte, more inquisitorial, more conclusive. A swarm of children? Really? But Ruth seems satisfied with her introduction to the household, and Charlotte’s glad to leave it at that. For now. Still she wonders how this has happened so fast. Mom is a powerful personality, yet somehow even Mom seems to have rolled over for Ruth—at least enough to let her absurd story go unchallenged.
Mom says, “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming? Once I took a sleeping pill for a flight, and I had no idea how I got to the place where I wound up.”
Ruth says, “I never take pills. Not even to go to sleep.”
“Lucky you,” says Mom.
“Trust me,” says Ruth, “I can tell the difference between a dream and reality.”
“You take Ambien,” Rocco says. “I’ve seen you.”
Ruth glares at him, then says, “TMI, dear. Too much information,” she explains to Mom.