earth is a son of a bitch. Thatâs how these Navy men talk. Be sure to tell Pop you subjected me to this. In fact, tell him anything you want, but you are not going to pick my dates. Iâll go out next week with Andrew because he is nice and he did wait. Donât do it again. Because if you do, Iâll snatch that little runt youâre dating and Iâll tell him all about you, starting with how dirty and sneaky you are.â She was breathless when she finished.
âDo whatever you want,â Amber seethed. âYouâre nothing but garbage. Human garbage.â
Rubyâs voice took on a singsong quality. âGarbage? I know a thing or two about garbage, Amber. Our father, the pillar of St. Barnabas, lusts after Grace Zachary. I saw him undress her with his eyes. Grace sticks her tongue out at him behind his back. Mom saw him do it, too. Heâs a goddamn lecher, and Iâll bet youâre just like him when nobodyâs looking.â
âFilthy mouth. You wait. You just wait!â Amber seethed, and with that she was out the door.
Rubyâs arm shot out for the door and slammed it. Human garbage. So thatâs what they thought of her. Her eyes burned. Her shoulders slumped. She didnât care if her father said it, but somehow the fact that her sister believed it ate at her soul. She couldnât say why, but it did.
Â
Amber checked the handful of change before she laid it on the small metal shelf by the pay phone. She wondered vaguely if she would have to call home again tomorrow night. Her hand was poised to drop in the first dime, when she looked at her wrist. It wasnât eleven yet, so it was all right to call. Her parents went to bed at eleven. Nothing was allowed to interfere with her fatherâs routine. According to Ruby, though, Grace Zachary interfered with . . . something. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Pop was right, Ruby had a dirty mind.
Until tonight, when Amber had to devote extra minutes to compose herself, she hadnât realized what a responsibility it was calling home every week. Mondays she always had a headache; sometimes they carried into Tuesday. She had a headache now. Damn Ruby.
She dutifully waited while the operator placed the call. She dropped her money into the slot, coin by coin. Although she always hoarded change all week for her duty call, so far sheâd never talked for more than three minutes; more often than not, her father hung up after the first ninety seconds.
George always picked up the phone on the third ring. Up from the chair, across the living room, out to the hallway and the foot of the steps, sit down, pick up the phone. Right on schedule.
âGeorge Connors.â No hello, no greeting of any kind.
Amber worked a smile into her voice, hoping to hear it returned, even though she knew better. âHello, Pop, itâs Amber. How are you? Howâs Mom? This isnât too late, is it?â
âNot too late, daughter. Five minutes till itâs time to go upstairs. Your mother is fine.â He never said how he was. He never asked how she was, either. Amber sucked in her breath and forced a smile. For whom she didnât know. Maybe herself.
âPop, itâs Ruby. Sheâs doing terrible things. You ... she cusses something fierce. She wonât listen to me.â Her voice was pleading. Again, for what she didnât know.
âI placed Ruby in your charge, daughter. Are you telling me now I made a mistake?â Not bothering to wait for her defense, he went on. âItâs up to you to use a firm hand, a strong hand. Give her what-for every hour if she needs it. Maybe I made a mistake, sending you girls to the city.â The implied threat was there, and Amber felt her knees weaken. âI have next weekend off. Your mother might like a ride down there. Is there anything else, daughter?â
âNo, Pop.â
âThen Iâll say good night. Donât make this