The Baby Was Fine

Anne Earney

When Ruby pulled into Candy’s driveway Friday night after work, the headlights of her stepdad’s ’78 Bronco lit up the trailer home. Twenty-two-year-old Candy rolled her eyes at Ruby from the passenger seat. “Here we go,” she said. She tugged her seatbelt out from under her pregnant belly and sat there a while.

The trailer was splashed with mud as if it had been out driving on country roads, but the tall weeds surrounding the porch made that about as likely as the trailer flying. The flickering blue of a television illuminated the front window. “Is Jim home?” Ruby asked.

“Yeah, it’s his last night off,” Candy said. “Then he’s in the next five. Or maybe it’s the next six.”

Ruby wondered why, if Jim was home, Candy needed a ride, but Candy said Jim was an old man at 42, and all he did was watch TV. The Bronco smelled of stale grease and old food, just like the Diamonds, the restaurant where they worked. The stench was worse with the two of them stewing in their uniforms. Ruby rolled down her window to let in some fresh air. An old, two-story farmhouse sat just past the trailer, barely visible at the edge of the Bronco’s headlights. “What’s up with that place?” Ruby asked. “Who lives there?”

“Nobody lives in that piece of shit. I heard our landlord grew up there, but nobody ever fixed anything, so they moved into the trailers. Something like that.”

“You ever go in?”

“Fuck no. Jim said the last people that lived there died inside.”

“Were they old?”

Candy shook her head. “Nope. Nothing natural about it.”

“Someone killed them?”

Candy pulled the visor down and opened the mirror. She leaned close, like she could see herself in the dark. “It was a double murder.”

Ruby felt her hand move toward the ignition, as if they might have to escape, but stopped herself. “Did they catch the killer?”

Candy flipped up the visor. “Sure didn’t.”

Ruby squinted at the house. “What if, instead of a murder, it was a double suicide? Or a murder-suicide?”

Candy’s mouth fell open. “What the fuck?”

“Forget it,” Ruby laughed. She glanced at the house. “Two people died there, huh?”

“That’s what Jim said. Now that I think about it, he might have said it was renters. Anyhow, it’s trash now. The door’s falling off, the back porch is gone. It’s probably full of possums and rats and snakes and shit.”

Ruby didn’t know exactly what might be in there, but she didn’t think she’d mind sharing it with some wildlife. “You ever go in and look for clues?”

Candy wrinkled her nose. “What kinda clues?”

“I don’t know. Did they try to find the killer? Did they find a gun?”

“Nobody said anything about a gun.”

“What if it’s haunted? Maybe there’s a ghost.”

Candy rubbed her belly. “Count me out.” She tried to pick up her purse from the floor but couldn’t reach around her stomach. She slid out and picked up the bag, then stood there with the door open, digging around in it. “Damn!” she said, snatching a piece of paper off the floor mat.  “Almost left my check. Jim would’ve killed me.”

Neither of them laughed.

Ruby broke the awkward silence. “You need a ride to work tomorrow?”

“I’ll call if I do,” Candy said. She had never given Ruby her phone number. With Jim working nights and sleeping all day, it was best if nobody had it.

“Call me early, in case I go out before work.” Ruby waited until the front door of the trailer closed behind Candy, and then she backed out, relieved to be alone.

Her mom and stepdad were up watching TV when she got home. She didn’t feel like talking, so she said hello and went straight to the bathroom. Nothing new. She lay in bed with her book open on her chest and stared at the ceiling. She sat up and turned her Far Side calendar to the previous month. The X she’d used to mark the beginning of her period was five weeks ago. Barely a few days late. Occasionally she missed a pill and that screwed up her cycle–that’s all it was. But the last time a coworker got knocked up, two others followed. She decided she’d stop at Wal-Mart and get a test on her way to work the next day. Just in case.

*

Ruby had recently taken a new position, a promotion of sorts, supervising the cafeteria side, in addition to her duties at the coffee counter. At the end of each shift, she walked the serving line and made sure everything was wiped down and put away. Only Candy ever left anything undone. Saturday night, she’d forgotten to dump the water out of half the steam pans. Ruby emptied them into the sink behind the line herself, wiped them dry, and put them back. It was impossible to do without getting water that smelled like old food all over herself. The small raise wasn’t turning out to be worth the trouble.

Ruby glanced up when Mira, who was standing at the soda machine, laughed—but Mira wasn’t looking her way. Then Candy’s muffled voice came from around the corner. Mira was nodding as she twisted the sticky spouts off and dropped them into a pitcher of club soda. Ruby guessed Candy was complaining about Jim, but she couldn’t make out what he’d done. When Candy circled around to the other side of Mira, Ruby saw she’d taken her apron off. The fabric of her uniform pulled tight across her belly, revealing bare skin between the buttons. Ruby finished with the pans and joined them. “What are you guys talking about?”

Mira and Candy stared at each other.

Then Candy laughed. “Anal sex. You ever had it?”

That wasn’t what Ruby expected to hear, but she wasn’t exactly surprised. “No, I haven’t.” She looked at Mira. “Have you?”

Mira blushed but said nothing. She swished the soda spouts around in the pitcher of club soda, keeping an eye on them as if they might jump out.

“Jim makes me do it, even now.” Candy patted her belly. “The pain’s a bitch at first.”

“You could just say no,” Ruby said.

Candy laughed again. “Yeah, right. Wait ‘till you’re married.”

“I’d say no,” Ruby said, “even if I was married.”

“Sure, you would.” Candy snapped her apron at her like a whip and waddled off toward the time clock.

Mira drained the water from the soda spouts and twisted them back into place. “Sure, you would,” she said, mimicking Candy.

When Ruby first heard about Candy’s pregnancy, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off Candy’s stomach. She’d felt that urge before–the first time as a kindergartener on the school bus obsessed with a sixth-grade girl. The sixth grader got tired of her staring and demanded, in no uncertain terms, that Ruby knock it off. Ruby expected Candy to do the same, but when Candy caught her staring, she smiled as though she liked the attention. Now, when Ruby saw Candy’s round belly, she couldn’t imagine what it had looked like flat. She put her hand on her own abdomen, where change seemed equally unlikely. She wished she hadn’t asked what they were talking about, but it wasn’t all bad—at least nobody got pregnant from anal sex.

Candy asked for a ride again that night. Before driving her home, Ruby stopped for beer at the gas station across the street, where Glenda, who worked nights, never carded her. Candy waited in the Bronco, while Ruby went straight to the bathroom. The door didn’t lock, so she hurried. No one tried to barge in, but otherwise, no luck.

Cigarette prices had gone up again–she handed over more of her tips than she’d planned to for two packs and the beer. She checked out at the register, then dropped her change and cigarettes into her apron pocket. She wondered if Glenda had ever worried about getting pregnant when she was younger. Probably not, she decided. Glenda would have been smarter than that. Most everyone else was.

As Ruby walked outside, the odor of restaurant grease overpowered the gasoline and exhaust coming off the lot, as if the grease was inside her nose.The passenger seat of the Bronco was empty, but Mira, who said she’d get a ride with Bob, sat in the back.

Ruby handed her the beer. “Change your mind about Bob?”

Mira set Ruby’s beer next to her own. “He scared the crap out of me, and all he did was cross the street.”

Ruby got in the driver’s seat. “Where’s Candy?”

“Bathroom.” Mira lit a cigarette and blew smoke at Ruby’s head. “You probably took too long. You know she can’t hold it.”

“I didn’t take too long. I used the bathroom, sort of.”

“What’s up with that? Didn’t you go right before we clocked out?”

Ruby put a cigarette between her lips and flicked the lighter. “Well, I’m—” But before she had a chance to finish, a strange noise caught their attention. Ruby didn’t know what it was, but something was wrong. Mira said she remembered seeing a pack of cigarettes sliding across the lot, flopping like a fish until it disappeared under a car at the pump.

They ran to where Candy sat on the curb, both hands on her belly, tears rolling down her face. Another driver paced near his car by the end of the building, hands in his pockets. Candy blubbered something incoherent while they waited for an ambulance. Said she’d stepped off the sidewalk, heard a screech—or was it a scream? Then fell. Lost her fucking cigarettes. A paramedic took her blood pressure and made notes in a small notebook. He pressed his fingertips against Candy’s wrist and counted, then gently cleaned her scraped knees and hands with alcohol wipes. Candy stumbled through her explanation a second time. Yes, she felt okay, considering. No cramping. Shaky, not concussed. Seven months along. No, she didn’t want to go in the ambulance. No, her husband worked overnight at the sewage treatment plant and couldn’t get her. Yes, she had a ride. Yes, she’d call her doctor.

Ruby elbowed Mira when the cop pulled up. He got out—older, nothing much to look at—and approached the driver. She wanted to hear what the driver was saying, but when she felt a cramp-like pain, she headed to the bathroom.

Still nothing. She put in a panty liner, just in case.

When she came out, the driver and the cop were gone. Mira helped Candy up.

Glenda walked outside. “Be careful, girls,” she said. She handed Candy a pack of cigarettes to replace the lost one.

“Thanks, Glenda,” Ruby said.

Candy didn’t say a word.

*

Candy clicked the seat belt into place and lit a cigarette, the flame dancing dangerously close to her fingers.

“Thought you bought those for Jim,” Mira said.

Candy took a deep drag, the tears in her eyes reflecting the glow she held between her fingers.

Ruby twisted the key, put the Bronco in gear, looked both ways, looked both ways again, and pulled into the street. She tried to swallow the saliva filling her mouth, but it kept coming back.

“What’d the driver say?” Mira asked.

“He said I stepped out in front of him, which is total fucking bullshit. I looked and no one was coming. He must have been flying.”

“He should’ve looked,” Mira said. “It’s a fucking gas station.”

Candy’s face lit up orange as she took another drag.

“Did he get a ticket?” Ruby asked.

Candy shook her head. “I don’t fucking know.”

Ruby put the radio on KSHE, Candy’s favorite classic rock station. “You wanna go home now, or to Bob’s with us?”

Candy looked out the window. “Home, I guess.”

“What time will Jim be back?” Mira asked.

“Not ‘til six or six thirty.”

“You’ll be okay?” Ruby asked. “You’ll be alright alone?”

Candy wiped her eyes. “For Christ’s sake, Ruby, I don’t want to go to a fucking party with you guys.”

After Candy got out of the car, Mira hopped in the front and handed Ruby another beer.

Ruby twisted off the cap and took a long swig. “I needed that.”

Later, Ruby felt ashamed of how little thought she’d given to how Candy’s night would go. All those hours alone, waiting for Jim to get home. Instead, she selfishly waited for the bleeding that may or may not come.

*

A week later, on what would be Candy’s last day of work, the pregnancy test remained in the Bronco, unused. Ruby sat at the break table with Mira and Candy, chewing on the metal end of a ballpoint pen that said “Diamonds” on the side, wondering why she hadn’t taken the test already. Somehow everything got muddied in her mind.

Candy’s sister-in-law had thrown her a baby shower. “My aunt gave me three onesies,” she said. “They’re the cutest little things. A green one with purple dots, and a striped one with green, purple and yellow; and the last one—”

Mira stood up. “I gotta run to the john.”

When Candy didn’t continue her onesie descriptions, Ruby peered at her. Candy fidgeted with a French fry and Ruby glanced around. Other than Bob on the far side of the kitchen, they were alone.

Candy cleared her throat. “Can I ask you something?”

Ruby swallowed.

Candy’s voice was higher pitched than usual. “Will you be the godmother of my baby?”

Ruby took in Candy’s nervousness. Her—their—concern for the baby.

“I was thinking last night you’d be a good choice. Not that anything’s going to happen, of course. But just in case. You’re smart and responsible, and I trust you.”

Ruby pretended to think about it. She knew she should tell Candy no.

“I just know you’d take good care of my kid.”

Ruby told herself, chances were she’d never have to do anything. She could afford to be nice. But still, there was always the possibility…

She heard herself say yes.

Candy jumped up and hugged her, squishing Ruby’s face into her round belly, as if already trying to share the baby. When Ruby dropped her off that night, Candy must have thanked her twenty times before she finally got out of the Bronco.

*

The next day, Candy didn’t show up for work, which was unlike her. Ruby asked their manager, Peggy, if she had called in.

Peggy ground her Menthol 100 into an ashtray. “She called alright—she called up and quit. Didn’t give us two weeks or nothin’. Said she wouldn’t even bring her uniforms back, so I’ll have to take them out of her check.” Peggy smiled, revealing unnaturally uniform teeth. “You got any friends need a job?”

Ruby stared at her, waiting for her to say she was joking. But instead, Peggy lit another cigarette.

When Ruby repeated the news to Mira, Mira said, “Won’t she have to pick up her last check? Why couldn’t she bring the uniforms then?”

Ruby doubted Candy would come get that check, even though she knew she needed the money.

Without the extra stop to drop Candy off, Ruby got home early from work that night. She dragged the Wal-Mart bag out from under the seat, resigned to her fate, but as she walked across the yard, she felt a wet warmth between her legs, followed by the stab of a cramp. She worried she was imagining it, but it turned out to be true. She’d never been so happy to need a tampon.

For the rest of the summer, Ruby and Mira read the birth announcements in the Washington Missourian together at the break table at work, and Ruby read them alone in her parents’ kitchen on her days off, but the due date passed, the leaves on the trees changed colors and dropped to the ground, and Candy’s name never appeared.

*

A few weeks before Halloween, Ruby left Bob’s early one morning and dropped a crabby, hungover Mira off at home. Then, without really thinking about what she was doing, she drove out to Candy’s trailer. The roads were wet and misty, and the sunrise cast long shadows, as did the “For Rent” sign stuck in the dirt in the yard of the empty trailer. Ruby sat in the idling Bronco in the middle of the road. Suddenly, a rabbit jumped out into the street and twitched its nose.

In the windows of the abandoned house, jagged pieces of glass sat like broken teeth. The door was hanging from one hinge, as if it were hung over from the night before. The rabbit hopped off into the tall grass surrounding the farmhouse.

Ruby pulled off the road, turned off the engine, and got out. She shut the truck door and stretched. Her head throbbed. She thought of some perfectly reasonable arguments against going in. Who knew what might be inside? The sun was up, and anyone nearby could see her. She waded into the weeds and bypassed the crooked front door. The back porch was gone, just as Candy had said, but a moss-splotched concrete block had replaced it.

Ruby half expected the dented metal doorknob to be locked. It turned just enough for her to slip inside. Uneven floorboards creaked as she stepped tentatively into the kitchen, where the cabinets hung at odd angles and dust hazed the air. Every surface was covered with a layer of gray powder. Broken dishes sat on the counters and the floor; torn curtains hung in the window over the sink.

She picked her way through to the living room. The lack of furniture gave her a clear view of stained carpet. Etched in the dirt on the mirror over the fireplace, round, girly letters read: Candy and Jim 4Ever.

Ruby paused. Candy had only complained about Jim, as if he’d tricked her into marriage. An ogre of an old man who made her hand over her checks, do all the housework and whatever else he wanted.

Ruby tried to plug herself and the guy who would’ve been the father of the baby that she—thank God—wasn’t carrying, into the Candy and Jim equation. But they didn’t fit. She’d never be in Candy’s place. That would never be her life. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was missing a clue, but to what?

Ruby walked up to the mirror and rubbed it with the side of her hand. The “C” came off easily, but by the time she reached the “J,” the letters may as well have been engraved into the glass. She spat and rubbed harder. Eventually, she’d erased everything. Without looking around, as if she’d come inside just for that—she started walking out the same way she’d entered. When she accidentally stepped on a shard of a plate in the kitchen, it skittered across the floor and finally settled against a far wall.

Her foot slipped when she stepped onto the cement block outside, so she was forced to jump down. From the ground where she stood, she strained to pull the door closed. She took one last look at the peeling paint on the siding, the dirty windows.

 The house was haunted. Just not the way she’d imagined.