Ruby Day placed them gently on Mason’s grave. We didn’t stay very long—just long enough to say hello.
I still missed Mason, but the longer I stayed with Ruby Day, the more I felt the good parts of Mason were around me. I will confess that I was starting to feel a little tired from all the extra work, though. Now don’t get me wrong, Mama and Daddy gave me chores, but when it came to cleaning up after Ruby Day—well, that was another story. She didn’t seem to care where she let her clothes drop or give a lick to hanging wet towels up. I even had to teach her the proper way to scrub a pot.
Ruby Day was just fine with rinsing and drying, she just needed to learn how to fill the sink and soap up the dishes and pots and rinse them well. But we both agreed that drying was not always necessary.
Francine stopped bothering me at school, but Mrs. Grady kept giving me the stink eye. It was like she felt sorry for me or something. Every day it was the same question.
“How are you, Luna? How are you and Ruby Day getting along? Everything okay?”
I always said the same thing, “Yes, Ma’am, everything is fine.” Then she’d say, “I’m glad to see you keeping your grades up.”
And then I’d respond, “Yes, Ma’am. Daddy said he’d be watching on account of I still aim to go to college and become a teacher.”
It wasn’t the questions that bothered me as much as her tone. It was the same tone folks took with meright after Mason died. Mama called it “overblown concern,” but she also said that most of the time people meant well, and I should just be glad people cared.
“Because, Luna,” she said, “it’s a rare thing in life to know someone cares about you—really cares, and not just because they have to.”
One Saturday morning in late October there came a knock on the front door. Ruby Day was watching cartoons. She loved Bugs Bunny and the Roadrunner, and we enjoyed watching and laughing together as we ate bowls of cornflakes.
“Now who can that be?” I asked.
Ruby Day wasn’t paying attention to me or anything else but the television, so I set my bowl on the coffee table and went to the door. A tall, skinny woman wearing what I think were two dead foxes around her shoulders stood on the other side. The foxes were sewn together tail-to-tail and had little beady glass eyes. The woman had short hair and wore a gray hat with a long feather sticking out of it, as well as pointy glasses and pointy shoes to match her pointy nose.
“Good morning,” she said. She had the sound of a sophisticated lady from the city, like Mrs. Chalmers, the charm school woman, who came to school clear from Scranton to teach all the girls how to be polite inproper society and how to cross our legs at the ankles and the importance of proper posture.
She reached out her gloved hand. I didn’t know if I should shake it or kiss it. I squeezed it lightly.
“My name is Sapphire Whitaker. I am looking for Ruby Day.”
“Oh, Ruby Day. Yes, she’s right in here, watching cartoons and …”
The woman made a noise and pushed passed me.
“Ruby Day,” Sapphire called.
I pushed past her and went to Ruby Day, who was by then standing up and staring at the sophisticated lady. A cornflake hung at the corner of Ruby Day’s mouth.
“Just look at you,” Sapphire said. She pulled a turquoise hanky from her purse and wiped Ruby Day’s mouth. “I came as soon as I heard the news from Uncle Charles. He heard it from a Fuller Brush man who comes to this … this town now and again.”
I watched Ruby Day swallow. She balled her hands into tight fists like she was going to start pounding on something, but just as she brought them up to her temples she stopped. Like she had thought better of it.
“Ruby Day, do you know her?”
She nodded and tried to speak, but the woman spoke for her. “I am Ruby Day’s Aunt Sapphire from Philadelphia. Bryn Mawr, actually.” She pulled off her gloves and handed them to me. Then she
I still missed Mason, but the longer I stayed with Ruby Day, the more I felt the good parts of Mason were around me. I will confess that I was starting to feel a little tired from all the extra work, though. Now don’t get me wrong, Mama and Daddy gave me chores, but when it came to cleaning up after Ruby Day—well, that was another story. She didn’t seem to care where she let her clothes drop or give a lick to hanging wet towels up. I even had to teach her the proper way to scrub a pot.
Ruby Day was just fine with rinsing and drying, she just needed to learn how to fill the sink and soap up the dishes and pots and rinse them well. But we both agreed that drying was not always necessary.
Francine stopped bothering me at school, but Mrs. Grady kept giving me the stink eye. It was like she felt sorry for me or something. Every day it was the same question.
“How are you, Luna? How are you and Ruby Day getting along? Everything okay?”
I always said the same thing, “Yes, Ma’am, everything is fine.” Then she’d say, “I’m glad to see you keeping your grades up.”
And then I’d respond, “Yes, Ma’am. Daddy said he’d be watching on account of I still aim to go to college and become a teacher.”
It wasn’t the questions that bothered me as much as her tone. It was the same tone folks took with meright after Mason died. Mama called it “overblown concern,” but she also said that most of the time people meant well, and I should just be glad people cared.
“Because, Luna,” she said, “it’s a rare thing in life to know someone cares about you—really cares, and not just because they have to.”
One Saturday morning in late October there came a knock on the front door. Ruby Day was watching cartoons. She loved Bugs Bunny and the Roadrunner, and we enjoyed watching and laughing together as we ate bowls of cornflakes.
“Now who can that be?” I asked.
Ruby Day wasn’t paying attention to me or anything else but the television, so I set my bowl on the coffee table and went to the door. A tall, skinny woman wearing what I think were two dead foxes around her shoulders stood on the other side. The foxes were sewn together tail-to-tail and had little beady glass eyes. The woman had short hair and wore a gray hat with a long feather sticking out of it, as well as pointy glasses and pointy shoes to match her pointy nose.
“Good morning,” she said. She had the sound of a sophisticated lady from the city, like Mrs. Chalmers, the charm school woman, who came to school clear from Scranton to teach all the girls how to be polite inproper society and how to cross our legs at the ankles and the importance of proper posture.
She reached out her gloved hand. I didn’t know if I should shake it or kiss it. I squeezed it lightly.
“My name is Sapphire Whitaker. I am looking for Ruby Day.”
“Oh, Ruby Day. Yes, she’s right in here, watching cartoons and …”
The woman made a noise and pushed passed me.
“Ruby Day,” Sapphire called.
I pushed past her and went to Ruby Day, who was by then standing up and staring at the sophisticated lady. A cornflake hung at the corner of Ruby Day’s mouth.
“Just look at you,” Sapphire said. She pulled a turquoise hanky from her purse and wiped Ruby Day’s mouth. “I came as soon as I heard the news from Uncle Charles. He heard it from a Fuller Brush man who comes to this … this town now and again.”
I watched Ruby Day swallow. She balled her hands into tight fists like she was going to start pounding on something, but just as she brought them up to her temples she stopped. Like she had thought better of it.
“Ruby Day, do you know her?”
She nodded and tried to speak, but the woman spoke for her. “I am Ruby Day’s Aunt Sapphire from Philadelphia. Bryn Mawr, actually.” She pulled off her gloves and handed them to me. Then she
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