Chapter 6

Work proceeds until Ruby finds a watermark on the kitchen ceiling. “Better check your eavestroughs,” she says, and Max and I spend the afternoon pulling small trees out of the gutters. By the time we come back inside, Ruby’s plastered the ceiling and primed the kitchen. “Put the drop cloths in the bedrooms, Max,” she says. “They’ll need a coat of primer before we leave today.”

Mary takes me aside. “Ruby’s a miracle, Sam,” she whispers and squeezes my arm.

I go and help Max put down the drop cloths. I can hear Mary talking to Ruby in the other room.

“Will we be done in time, Ruby?” she says.

“Don’t you worry, honey. Max and I are in the groove.”

Morning of the eighteenth, everything is done, even the closets. Around one o’clock, Muller’s old Buick pulls into the driveway, oily smoke billowing up in the air. He gets out in this tie-dyed t-shirt, baggy shorts and sandals, looking like a big, sweaty Turk. Then Judy gets out, running up, going, “We’re here! We’re here!” She embraces everybody, including Max, while Muller starts pulling this oxygen tank out of the back seat. It’s the size of a water heater. Max goes to help him and Judy comes over, all pink and glowing, giving me a sweaty kiss. “Hey, Daddy,” she says.

“How was the drive?” I ask.

“Muller barfed.”

Mary links arms with Judy. “Get the bags, Sam,” she says. “Then we can talk.”

“What’s in those boxes on the porch?” Judy says.

“Your father’s stuff from work.” Mary says. “I told him to put everything in the garage.”

Judy walks around the house, looking at the new paint and wallpaper. Everything has the freshness of a Florida beach. Max and Muller bring the oxygen tank into the front hall.

“Where should we put this?” Muller says.

“Downstairs,” I say to him. “Mary’s made up a bed for you by the furnace. Come on, Max, grab this end. Muller, you grab the other.”

Ruby is cleaning brushes in the laundry tub. “Hey, there,” she says. “You must be Muller.”

Muller puts down his end of the oxygen tank and takes Ruby’s cigarette from the side of the laundry tub. “Haven’t had one since we left Seattle,” he says.

Ruby takes out a pack from her shirt pocket. “Have a fresh one,” she says. “What’s with the oxygen tank?”

“I have sleep apnea. This works better than CPAP machines.” He starts hooking up the mask and hose to the tank.

“Isn’t that an old gas mask?” Ruby asks.

“Yeah, army surplus. I rigged it up myself.”

“Aren’t you the inventive one,” she says. “You sure it’s sleep apnea? Otis thought he had that. All he needed was a good massage.”

“Who’s Otis?” Muller says.

“Don’t get her started on Otis,” Max says.

“Grab the paint cloths, Max,” she says.

“You really think a massage would work?” Muller asks.

“Course I do. Worked for Otis. Come by the house sometime. I’ll have you breathing like a thoroughbred.”

“That’s everything, Sam,” Max says.

“You did good, Max. You two should go into business.”

“We are. That’s what Ruby’s been planning. I’m going in with her. Who’s gonna mug me painting a house?”

Muller sits down on the cot. He practically sinks to the floor. “So you’re saying it’s just tension?” he asks Ruby.

“Sure, it’s tension. I know a tense man when I see one. Get over on your stomach. I’ll straighten you out right now.” Muller rolls over and Ruby straddles the cot. Her fingers disappear into Muller’s flab.

“You sure got strong hands, Ruby,” Muller says. She digs her knuckle into his back. “God Almighty.” Mary and Judy come downstairs. “Ruby’s a miracle worker, Jude,” he says, letting out a moan and possibly a fart. Ruby digs a knuckle in again.

“Just do this any time he’s tense, honey,” Ruby says to Judy. “My husband thought he had sleep apnea for years. Never needed a machine, though. Just a good solid knuckle right here.” Her fist disappears into his flesh. “I’ll show you how to do it, if you like.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Judy says.

“Well, any time he needs it, give him a knuckle. You want help up, big fella?” she says, and he rolls over like a beached mammal.

“Get up, Muller,” Judy says.

“I’m trying, Jude.”

Ruby pulls him to his feet. “Well, that’s it for us,” she says. “Leave the brushes in fabric softener for a few hours. You got anything else needs painting, just call Max. I don’t know where I’m living yet.”

“You’ve got a home, Ruby,” Max says.

“I don’t trust your old man. He’s a loose cannon.”

“Then we’ll get a place together.”

“Let’s talk in the truck,” she says. “Say goodbye to these nice folks.” She picks up some pails and a roller handle. “Watch your back there, beefcake. Losing a few pounds wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“I like him just the way he is,” Judy says.

“Big and cuddly, huh?” Ruby laughs. “I hear you. Come on, Max, grab those pails. We’ll pick up a burger on the way home.”

I take out my wallet.

“Don’t worry about it, Sam,” Ruby says. “Max says you got fired. Darn shame at your age. You don’t look none the worse for wear, though. You doin’ okay? You sleeping?”

“I’m fine.”

“It probably hasn’t hit him yet,” she says to Mary. “Everything’s fine until you come home and find them shagging the postal carrier.” Mary squints at Ruby. “Story for another time, honey. It’s been a rough couple of years. Don’t forget about the brushes. Wrap them in damp newspapers afterwards. They’ll be good as new. And take care of that back, big fella. You’ve got a few good years left in you yet.”

“Come on, Ruby,” Max says.

“I’m right behind you,” she says.

Muller’s looking at her like she’s Venus de Milo.