Then
‘You heard from that girl of yours yet?’ Charlie had made himself at home on his usual bar stool and was aimlessly chucking peanuts into his mouth.
‘You know those peanuts have been touched by a thousand unwashed hands in this place, right?’ Ethan said, moving the dish away.
Charlie lunged forward and took another handful. ‘I’m not a pussy about germs like you.’
‘Suit yourself, but answer me this: have you ever seen Mick Dewey wash his hands after he’s taken a piss?’
Charlie dropped the nuts back into the bowl. ‘Point taken. Have you heard from her or what?’
Ethan ignored him and kept polishing a spot on the mahogany bar until it gleamed with a deep shine. He hadn’t heard from Ruby at all, not since she’d left him a drunken message late last night, her voice slurred and mumbling. Must have been wine, and lots of it. After a few years of bartending, Ethan was familiar with the intricacies of various drunks: the rageful gin drunk, the sleepy beer drunk, the happy-’til-you-puke tequila (or, in Ruby’s case, bourbon) drunk. Wine drunk made people sound like they’d been hit with a tranquilizer dart, which in a way he supposed they had. Ruby had sounded specifically white wine drunk: too hyper to be red wine, plus he could hear her crazy friend Jess singing Destiny’s Child in the background, which didn’t really happen with red wine. Usually red wine drunk people passed out before they got to the Beyoncé portion of the evening.
He’d tried to call her back after he picked up the message, but it was at the end of his shift and she was asleep by then. He’d called again today, a couple of times – he knew she was at work, but surely she could take five minutes to take a phone call? – but her cell had gone straight to voicemail. It had been two weeks since Ruby had left, and he’d only managed to talk to her a handful of times thanks to their clashing schedules and the long hours she was pulling at the ad firm. Though why she was so dedicated to a job that treated her like such shit, he had no idea.
‘I’m guessing that’s a no, then,’ Charlie said, a sly grin on his face. He’d already forgotten about Mick Dewey’s unwashed hands and had resumed tossing peanuts into his mouth. ‘I told you, man. You’re fucking crazy to even try this long-distance shit. I mean, seriously, what’s the point? You’re going to get laid once every eight weeks – tops! – but she’ll probably dump your ass for some rich banker asshole before you even get your first conjugal visit.’
Ethan dropped the cloth on the bar. ‘You’re a real asshole, you know that?’
‘I’m not trying to bust your balls, I’m just trying to get you to see some sense. You could be having sex with a different woman every night,’ he said, gesturing around the bar.
Ethan followed his gaze, taking in the table of divorcées who met at Billy Jack’s every week to shriek about their low-life ex-husbands (Zinfandel drunk) and the few solitary women propping up the bar, the skin hanging loose on their sinewy arms as they raised their glasses to their lips (whisky – though it might as well have been motor oil for all they cared). ‘Yeah, I’m clearly missing out.’
‘Okay, tonight’s a bad example. But there are plenty of hot chicks who come in here! Dude, Kelly Wallace was in here a couple of nights ago giving you the “come-fuck-me” eyes! I mean, Ruby’s a nice girl and everything, but Kelly fucking Wallace! Come on!’
Ethan shrugged. ‘I love her,’ he said. He turned his back on Charlie and started polishing the bottles of liquor lined up on the back bar, hoping he would drop it. Which, of course, he didn’t.
‘I’m just trying to look out for you. I mean, I like Ruby, and obviously I love her sister, but –’
‘Wait, you love Piper?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, staring down at the bar top. ‘I do.’ It was the first time Ethan had ever seen him look humble.
‘Holy shit, man – are you serious? Have you told her?’
‘Of course I’ve told her. I told her on our third date.’
‘You told her you loved her on the third date? What are you, crazy?’
‘Nah, I’m decisive.’
‘What did she say?’
‘That she loved me too, of course. What else would she say?’ Ethan couldn’t argue with his logic. ‘Anyway,’ Charlie continued, ‘this isn’t about my love life – which, as we can all see, is amazing – it’s about yours. I just don’t want to see you wasting your best years on someone who isn’t in it to win it, you know?’
‘My best years? You’re working on your father’s factory floor sweeping up scraps of toffee and I’m polishing bottles in a shithole. Would you seriously describe these as our best years?’
‘Abso-fucking-lutely,’ Charlie said, taking a long swig of his beer and tipping it towards Ethan in a silent toast.
‘Then you’ve got a fucked-up sense of what’s good.’ He sighed and glanced at his watch. It was 11:30 p.m. – surely Ruby would be out of work by now. ‘Look, will you watch the bar for me a second? I’ve got to take a piss.’
‘Sure thing. Just don’t blame me if there’s a couple of beers missing at the end of your shift tonight.’
‘Like you’ve ever paid for a beer in this place!’ He walked into the stockroom and pulled the phone out of his pocket. He dialed Ruby’s number, but the polite automated voice came on, asking him to please leave a message after the tone. He hung up. Maybe she’d gone for a drink with her colleagues after work, he thought, fresh-faced guys in button-down shirts called Ned and Teddy who would order ‘Tanq Ten and Ts’ and smoke roll-ups by choice and discuss the various merits of Bob Dylan B-sides. Guys who’d gone to college and had team track sweatshirts and the collected works of Pablo Neruda to prove it. Guys who were probably, right at this minute, placing a soft hand on the small of his girlfriend’s back as they threw their heads back and laughed at the joy of being ‘young professionals’ in New York City, like they were the first and only people ever to grace God’s earth with their special snowflake presence.
Fuck, he needed a cigarette. He leaned out of the stockroom and shouted to Charlie to give him another five.
‘Have you got any more peanuts?’ Charlie called back.
‘Under the speedwell!’ How a guy who came from that much money could have so little class, he’d never know, but he loved him all the more for it, in his own begrudging way.
Ethan went outside and leaned against the cool brick wall. It was dark in the side alley, with only the faint glimmer of a distant street lamp to help guide the cigarette to his lips, and then the red glow of the tip once it was lit. It had been hot earlier in the day, the muggy heat of August having pulled itself into September, but now the night air had a tinge of cold to it, and he could sense the oncoming crispness of autumn. Soon, it would be all pumpkin-spiced lattes and hay rides and apple-picking around Beechfield, and then the first few cotton-ball-bearded Santa Clauses would appear in the drugstore aisles, and they’d all pile into the sled for the long descent into winter.
He was pondering this, interspersed with images of a blond guy called Tad making out with Ruby, when his phone rang. It was her.
‘Hey,’ he said, trying to sound casual. ‘How was your day?’
‘Oh, you know,’ she said, ‘sort of shitty. Tara spilled her coffee in my lap – I’m pretty sure it was intentional – and I fucked up the lunch order. But other than that, it was okay.’
He didn’t know, not even in the slightest, and the sound of her voice on the other end of the phone, tinny and slightly small, made him feel further away from her than he’d thought possible. ‘Well, I hope she didn’t burn you.’
‘Nah, it wasn’t that hot. Sorry I’m calling so late,’ she added. ‘The day kind of got away from me.’
‘That’s okay. I’m at the bar, Charlie’s keeping me company. It’s all good.’ It’s all good? Who was he now, Mark McGrath? ‘Did you go for a drink after work or something? With your new work friends?’ He could hear the wheedling anxiety in his voice now and kicked himself. Or, more accurately, he kicked the wall.
‘No,’ she said, sounding even smaller. ‘Just working.’
‘Still?’
‘Yeah. There’s a big pitch on next week, and everyone’s freaking out about it . . . I think we’ll all be here until at least midnight, but probably later.’
‘So your colleagues are there with you?’ He hated Teddy and Tad and Ned even more now, imagining them all gathered around Ruby as they ordered her to shovel more coal onto the coalface, their pink cheeks flushed with sadistic pleasure. ‘I hope they’ll at least get you a taxi home. It’ll be way too late for you to be riding the subway.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said tersely, and he realized he’d got it wrong. There was a pause as the waves crackled between them. ‘Only the partners get taxis home,’ she said, her voice a little softer now, ‘and anyway, the subway is totally safe. Little kids ride it on their own, so I’ll be fine. Honest.’
‘Well, give me a call when you get back to the apartment,’ he said. ‘Just for my own peace of mind.’
‘I don’t know what time that’ll be,’ she said. ‘I’ll probably just crash as soon as I get in. I’ll have to be back in super early tomorrow.’
‘Oh,’ he said, hoping his disappointment wasn’t too obvious. ‘Of course, yeah. Just get some sleep if you can. And don’t let them work you too hard.’
‘Unlikely,’ she said with a little laugh. ‘I’ve got to get back inside. I’ll give you a call tomorrow on my lunch break, okay?’ He could hear her hurrying now, her breath slightly catching as she spoke, her heels clicking as she walked.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Sounds good.’
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to blow you off or anything but . . . it’s just been a weird day, that’s all.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘God, I haven’t even asked you about your day! I am a terrible girlfriend.’
‘My day was fine.’ He thought about the letter he’d received from the art college in Brooklyn, politely informing him that they didn’t have space for him in the spring enrolment, but welcoming him to apply again next year. ‘Totally uneventful. Now go back to work – go! I’ve got to get back before Charlie drinks himself under the table.’
‘I love you, you know,’ she said, and he could finally hear the Ruby he knew.
‘I love you, too,’ he said. ‘Just do me one favor: if a guy called Teddy offers you a drink, don’t take it.’
‘Who the hell is Teddy?’
‘Forget it.’ They said their goodbyes and he headed back into the bar to find Charlie plugging nickels into the jukebox.
‘A whole hour of the Stones coming up,’ he said through a mouthful of peanuts.
Ethan leaned his elbows on the bar, helped himself to a beer, and let the opening strains of ‘Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday’ wash over him.
‘Shit,’ Charlie said, realizing the mistake. ‘Sorry, dude.’
‘It’s cool,’ Ethan said, and he nearly sounded convincing.