CHAPTER 7
Ruby had no idea where I was taking her. It was a sunny May afternoon, the kind of day where the warm breeze carries a sense of newness, a signal of spring. It seemed an appropriate day to kick off our new life. New beginnings—that’s what this was all about. Starting today, we were no longer going to live as John Bodine and Ruby Dawes. Ruby didn’t know it yet, but we were about to become Elliot and Tanya Uretsky.
Phase two of my plan went off without a hitch. Forged health insurance cards were much easier to make than credit cards, which require an image that goes on the card itself. Not to mention credit cards usually have embossed numbers and those funky holograms. I suppose I could have made a fake credit card, but I doubted it would have come with a $270,000 credit limit. For my purposes, the UniSol health insurance card I made was just as good as plastic. Even better.
Ruby walked, hands stuffed into the pockets of her well-worn gray hooded sweatshirt, moving at a brisk pace, though not so quick as to pass by her surroundings unaware. If anything, she seemed intent on taking everything in. Ruby paused as we strolled past the Coolidge Corner Theatre, a former church building converted into a classic Art Deco movie house.
“I want to go to the movies,” Ruby said, reading the marquee.
“After,” I said.
“After what? Where are you taking me, John?”
“I can’t tell you. I have to show you.”
Ruby sighed aloud and looked away.
“I’m not in the mood for surprises,” I heard her mutter under her breath.
A young mother, with two young children in tow, squeezed past us on the crowded sidewalk of one of Brookline’s more bustling neighborhoods. I could see Ruby take in every detail of the woman and her children as a lump found its way into my throat. I should be a father and Ruby a mother. Judging by Ruby’s pained expression, I guessed she was thinking the same. I’m sure the mother passed by without giving us a second thought. To her, we were just a young couple out for a stroll on a sunny afternoon. To us, though, this mother offered a window into an experience we both longed to have.
We put off having children until my depression eased. Then it was my business that had to get off the ground. Soon after, we had Ruby’s tuition to pay. It never seemed like the right time to have kids; it was something we’d put off until some future tomorrow. How could we have known that tomorrow might never come?
We walked past a bakery that smelled of cinnamon and freshly kneaded dough. With a glance, no discussion needed, I grabbed Ruby’s hand and led her inside. I figured her favorite muffin, banana chocolate chip, would help her feel a little less ticked off at me. She ordered a vanilla bean Frappuccino with whipped cream. When I gave a look—Ruby never ordered such decadent drinks—her response, pre-slurp, was a straightforward, “To hell with eating healthy.”
We finished our treats and then wandered another block or two, past more mothers and fathers with more kids in tow. The closer we got to our destination, the more nervous I became. It felt like the familiar ingredients of a particularly dangerous mountain climb—one part exhilaration, one part trepidation, and two parts “Holy crap.”
There’s no other way, I kept saying to myself. There’s no other way.
I stopped at a four-story brownstone on Harvard Avenue. The Coolidge Corner neighborhood offered up a veritable melting pot of residents—all ages, all races, all in varying shapes and sizes. The college student population here seemed equal in proportion to the number of young professionals who called this somewhat posh city neighborhood home. Ruby looked around, didn’t see anything but apartment buildings, and then looked around some more. She couldn’t figure out why I had stopped walking.
“Where are we going?” she asked, perplexed.
“Here,” I said, pointing to the peeling decal numbers, 457, on display in the arch window above a single glass door.
“What’s here?”
I fished out a key from my front pants pocket. It was shiny brass because it was so new. The Realtor had given it to me the day before, after I signed the lease. Warily, Ruby followed me up the concrete front porch steps, still glancing around, still confused. The key felt stiff in the lock and took some twisting and pulling before I finally got the tumblers engaged. Ruby walked right past the metal bank of mailboxes, including the one that I had already labeled with the name Uretsky.
“What’s going on, John? I really don’t like surprises. I’ve had enough surprises lately.”
I kissed Ruby’s forehead, letting my lips linger an extra few moments to make certain my love for her sank in.
“Just give it a second, okay? I’ll explain everything soon enough.”
I walked ahead of Ruby, but imagined she was looking all around as we trotted up the tiled stairs in the grimy stairwell that led to the fourth-floor apartment, number twelve, the last unit in the building. Her curiosity was palpable. I felt bad for not having been more forthcoming. When I devised this plan, it seemed like a good idea. Now I worried the shock would keep Ruby from cooperating, and this endeavor would be a no-go without her.
I worked the apartment key into the lock and kept my back to Ruby so she wouldn’t see my trembling hand. I reminded myself to breathe. Just relax. Like on a climbing expedition, I needed to cross this threshold feeling complete and total confidence that I’d achieve my objective. But this time, it wasn’t just my life I was focused on saving.
I pushed open the door and stepped into a fully furnished apartment. Ruby followed close behind.
“Whose place is this?” she asked, taking a tentative step inside.
“Ours,” I said.
Ruby put her hands on her hips. She pivoted her feet on the coated hardwood floor. From where she stood, Ruby could see into the living room, with its futon couch, two armchairs, bookshelf, a few plants, and small TV on a small TV stand. Yes, we had cable. I’d splurged. Ruby could also see the kitchen, a simple rectangular room with countertop seating. The bedroom door to her right was closed.
Because I wanted a short-term lease, it was simpler to rent a fully furnished apartment. Ruby didn’t know it yet, but I’d already rented our apartment, fully furnished with our furniture, to a professor couple from a university in Barcelona, Spain, who were coming to the States for a six-month research sabbatical. Six months was a perfect length of time, since it equaled Ruby’s schedule for Verbilifide treatments.
“Ours? What are you talking about?” Ruby said, her voice rising in pitch. “We have a home. I don’t want to move.”
“Ruby, I did something, something I probably shouldn’t have done, but I did it, anyway. Come into the living room and sit down. I need to tell you everything.”