Chapter 32.4: 1994, Ruiz
"Where did it go?!"
"It keeps falling off. Maybe put it on a different finger this time?"
"But it doesn't mean the same thing if its on a different finger!"
Ambrose was staring at me outside of Macy's. Holiday shoppers were staring at me, too. He didn't seem to be angry, just exhausted. This was the third time we had to backtrack in the slush in search of the silver colored ring he had given me earlier today.
He crouched down and started walking slowly that way, his eyes never leaving the ground. "At this rate, we're going to be late and Miss Cha Cha is going to be worried about us," he warned.
I knew that. Thinking about Miss Cha Cha being all upset made me hustle, wishing I had a metal detector or a magnet, and I really was hoping nobody had sticky gum on their shoe to attract my little ring. Willing myself to have eagle vision, my green gloved hands swept the slush away at my feet. Ambrose shuffled far from me and I felt my heart stretching away with him.
We had come out of the house some hours earlier because, entirely by accident I'm sure, Baby Doll had jumped up on the coffee table which we had dubbed our gift wrapping station and knocked over the brand new bottle of Opium by Yves st Laurent that Ambrose had bought for Miss Cha Cha onto the floor. It had not exactly shattered, but it had broken in the box, the amber liquid leaking from a hairline crack.
Ambrose had put his head in his hands for a few minutes and then admitted we had to go out and buy another bottle, that a bottle leaking was absolutely not sufficient to give to the woman who had given him literally everything for nothing for the past three years. The least he could do was make an effort to find another bottle, even if the store didn't have it. At least he could tell her he had tried. I had agreed.
And now I was slowing him up by constantly losing the present he had so carefully and thoughtfully given to me earlier in the day.
"Do you need help?" asked a kind, elderly voice.
Ah, another kind New Yorker. The third who had offered to help me today.
"Yes, Ma'am," I said without looking up, my fingers pressing into the snow. Two giant Macy's bags sloshed into the slush next to me and immediately my heart sank because the bottoms were becoming soaked incredibly fast. "Oh, Miss, your bags! Your things will get wet!" I gasped, wanting to pick them up. Next to me, elegantly white leather gloved hands started to scan the snow mixture imprinted with so many strangers' footprints.
"Don't worry about it," she chuckled kindly. "What are you looking for?" The woman paused in her search.
Oh. "Its a little silver ring. A band," I told her, still feeling guilty. I peered up, seeing Ambrose crouched some yards away. Too far away.
"Ah. Is it your wedding band? What a shame," the woman tisked, scurrying again beside me. Before I could answer, she went on. "That man up there looking, too. Is that your husband?"
I froze. Slowly, I gazed at her. What a curious woman. My eyes scanned her like a machine. Dark red coat, festive wreath brooch, blonde hair that must have been done every week and needed to be done again. She looked like an average older white lady. So...why did she think Ambrose was my husband?
"Oh, no, but...he's my boyfriend," I said quietly, a blush rising to my cheeks.
"Ohh, he's a handsome young man. Not like my husband. I bet he's on the couch right now with a beer, right where I left him, haha!" she started laughing at herself and I giggled politely with her.
After a while, she spoke again, still beside me. People were side-stepping us like crazy everywhere since we were right in front of the store's main entrance.
"Is it a promise ring? Like, a promise for an engagement?" she asked.
What the heck was a 'promise ring'?
"What's a 'promise ring'?" I asked, feeling stupid and trying not to show her by keeping my face pointed away.
"Oh! Its something we do back home a lot. Its where a young man gives a young lady a ring in promise of engagement. Like a pre-engagement ring, I suppose. I guess your ring isn't a promise ring, huh?"
This made me think. Ambrose had given me the ring so full of love. He'd said he'd give me a much better ring when he did propose. This ring meant so much to the both of us, and he'd found the ring in a Cracker Jack box as if heaven sent. Like it was meant to be. So maybe...
"Its sort of like a promise ring, I guess," I admitted to her, setting my hands on my knees and staring at the empty ground forlornly. Ahead of us, Ambrose was now on all fours and searching desperately, his bare hands sweeping the slush, not seeming to care if his hands froze or got who knew what germs on them.
"We'll find it, honey," she assured, patting my shoulder in a grandmotherly way.
"What are you looking for?" came a giggle above us. Another Macy's bag, medium sized this time, plopped down into the icy mess and we were joined by another lady, middle aged and plump, dressed in flesh colored sweat pants and a dark blue pea coat.
"Its a silver ring, a band!" the older woman chirped up merrily, "join the party!"
The two started laughing together, sweeping the snow with vigor. "Is it the young lady's band? What's your name, hun?" the middle aged woman asked.
"Its...Ruiz," I answered quietly, my heart shrinking in fear. I stopped, daring not to look back at them.
"Pretty name. Is that Hispanic? Is that politically correct these days?" the middle aged woman asked. I had to smile at this. She was more talkative than the first woman.
"I prefer...Latina," I explained in my relief. So my name hadn't seemed masculine to them, just foreign.
"Ohh, okay," the middle aged woman beamed in precious understanding.
"That young man up there in the snow with us is her boyfriend. He gave her the ring," the older woman informed her jovially.
"He's handsome," the middle aged one admired.
"That's what I said!" the older one laughed.
I blushed a deeper red.
After a bit, the two began to speak about their children and I was no longer a part of their conversation. Even so, they didn't stop searching.
"My son's in college now. NYU, studying art. I told him he shouldn't, that it gets you nowhere, but of course young people don't listen," the middle aged one was saying to the older.
"You're lucky. My son never went to college," the older woman said.
"No? What does he do now?"
"I have no idea. He left home when he was fifteen, can you believe it? Last I heard he was in some sort of show."
"You poor thing. Kids don't know how to respect their parents."
The middle aged one stopped looking, staring instead at the older woman who was continuing with the search like nothing was the matter.
"Its okay," the older woman said, "it was back in the fifties if you believe it. I've got a daughter with my new husband. She never went to college either, but she got married really well. Now I've got three grandchildren."
She stopped looking, too, and I half feared they'd start taking pictures out of their purses to show each other. But then I realized they were just helping me out of the goodness of their hearts anyway. They had every right to abandon the search and talk together. The ring was my responsibility. I doubled own in the slush now, moving forward.
Behind me, they confirmed my assumption and I heard the sound of a purse opening. A fake nail ticked on thick plastic. "These are my granddaughters, twins. They're Emily and Emma. That's my grandson, George. Same name as my son. My daughter named him after her half brother. I didn't want her to, but you can't control young people, like you said!"
George? My ears pricked, but I continued my search.
"Look, see? This is my daughter and her husband, Sam." I heard a thick plastic page turn. "That's my husband, John."
"Who's that?" the middle aged woman asked.
The older woman paused. I looked back at them curiously. The older woman was staring at her little photo album in her wallet with a face that was hard to read, but her eyes were melancholy. "That's my son," she said quietly, her voice taking on a far away tone.
I had a strange feeling.
"May I see?" I asked respectfully as I could, a billion bug legs crawling around in my belly. What was this feeling?
"Sure," she said, smiling but looking at me with those sad eyes. I knew such an expression. My Mama had given it to me so many times: she was trying to cover up shame. She offered the photos towards me, and my breath held as I looked down.
What I saw would have made me lose my urine if I had to pee.
Staring up at me in a faded, white bordered photograph was a young boy, perhaps twelve or eleven, with delicate features that looked washed out. His short hair was a shock of white blonde, the bangs curled over his forehead. His skin was the color of milk with a scattering of tiny orange freckles. His eyebrows looked non-existent on nearly the same colored skin, and under them...Tiffany blue eyes stared up at me looking so sad it broke my heart immediately.
I was staring at twelve or eleven year old Georgina. My breath caught.
There was no one else it could be. I knew those eyes from a thousand miles away. How in the world... It was impossible...
"We should keep looking for that ring," the older woman said insistantly, closing her wallet and the photo album with it with a metallic snap. She seemed embarrassed, quickly looking away from me.
"Yes we should! Its so cold," the middle aged woman said, crossing her arms. "Brr!" she added with gusto.
But I was frozen like an ice statue. This woman...was it possible... I had to snap myself out of it. Forcing myself, I knelt back into the slush, looking down at the area I had already combed through. But somehow, I had found something much more...
Suddenly, Georgina's voice was in my head, talking about her mother. "She kicked me out, actually," she'd said, holding her familiar pink rosed tea cup at a perch at her chest. "She'd had it with me. She wanted me to forget my father. Said I looked too much like him, too. I even had his eyes. Eventually, she said I reminded her too much of him. Wanted to put me in the state's care. I told her she couldn't do that and she said she didn't want a queer for a son anyway. So I left."
This woman. Maybe this woman had kicked Georgina out of her house. This woman. Like my Mama had kicked me out of mine this morning. For what? For what?
Suddenly I didn't want this old woman's help. I didn't want to be anywhere near her. Even if I wasn't one hundred percent certain she was Georgina's Mama, I didn't want to be near her. But a place in me was telling me something very important had just transpired, though, something awful. My heart had descended into my stomach.
She seemed so nice. Had she really done that horrible thing? I made my way in a crouch toward Ambrose. "I'm going to try over here," I called to them on my way.
"Aww, look at that, she's going to her boyfriend. Young love. Can't beat it," the middle aged woman said casually.
"Yeah. Well, kids. Can't say I didn't try! Good luck," the older woman said to us, getting up with what looked like strain by her hands on her knees. Staring at her, I couldn't help but see how pretty she was. Pretty...like Georgina. I couldn't help hating that, seeing similarities in their faces. My eyes even noticed the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, the same which was beginning at the corners of Georgina's.
"Good-bye, good luck again," she said to me, passing me with her bags making papery sounds. I saw how soaked they were on the bottoms. As she passed Ambrose, she waved to him and he looked confused, not having noticed she was helping me.
I hoped her bags would split, that the presents for her new family would spill onto the sidewalk. I hoped they would ruin.
But they didn't. Instead, she gasped a few yards away from Ambrose, looking down. She broke into a grin and leaned down, and I knew what had happened before she snapped back up. "Its your ring, Louise!" she called to me, waving her hand.
Thank god Ambrose was closer to her than me, because that name struck me like a hammer to my face. Tears began to well in my eyes.
Louise. The same name Georgina called me.
"You found it!" the middle aged woman squealed behind me.
Soon, the ring was back on my finger again and the older woman was long gone. The middle aged one had spoken to us about possibly getting the ring re-sized, discussing places she knew nearby. Ambrose had thanked her sincerely and gratefully, giving her a hug. We watched her go.
"They thought I was a woman, Ambrose," I said in a hushed tone, strongly aware of all the rushing shoppers around me.
"Well, you are dressed from Miss Cha Cha's closet," he said proudly.
"Yes, but...you'll never believe..."
As we walked through Macy's together, my hand in a fist to prevent the ring from falling off, I told him the whole story. About how Georgina had told me she had left home as fifteen, about what the woman had said, detailing how the photograph looked in her wallet. About how much shame was in her voice and face when she spoke about her son.
"Are you sure?" Ambrose asked doubtfully.
"No," I admitted, but no less sure.
"Well, we can't assume. There's a lot of old ladies with sons named George."
"Sons named George who left at fifteen in the fifties? It would have been in the fifties when Georgina left her home," I pointed out.
Ambrose sighed, looking lost. "Yeah, I don't know," he said, squeezing my hand as we walked, my heeled shoes making clicking sounds on the slippery floor. "But people leave home for many reasons. Maybe he joined the Army. Korea was in the fifties, right? Maybe he went to live with her old husband in a divorce. Maybe-"
"But she said last she'd heard from him he was in a show. Georgina was in a show," I pointed out quickly, not meaning to interrupt him.
"But when do we know was the last time she heard from him?" he asked reasonably. "She was some random lady on the street. What are the chances you met Georgina's mom?"
"I don't know. Georgina said her Mama was from Albany. That's not too far away," I said a little quieter. It seemed like he was determined not to believe the lady was Georgina's Mama. ...But he hadn't seen the picture I'd seen.
"Well, we'll never know for sure, unfortunately," he sighed but not with exasperation. He seemed tired from the repeated searches, though. Because of this, I decided to drop the subject for now. For his sake.
Eventually, we found the perfume counter. The woman there was really apologetic, saying the last bottle of Opium in any size and formulation had sold out a few days ago.
"Shoot, my mom is going to be so disappointed," Ambrose smiled at the woman.
His mom?
My head snapped to him, my eyebrows up in surprise.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Um...would you know if your mom would be interested in anything else we have? There's a variety of scents in Opium. Asian scents. We have other perfumes like it?" the saleswoman suggested, deeply apologetic, already with her hand below the counter.
"Maybe. She likes orange scents. Do you have anything like that?" he asked her, still with that handsome smile.
"Yes, we do! And its cheaper than Opium!" the saleslady chirped energetically.
"Good!" Ambrose grinned at her, following her down the counter and causing me to trail after him.
Soon enough, he had a small bag in his free hand and held mine with his other. We were walking toward's Macy's exit, and I was still thinking about what he had said about Miss Cha Cha.
"You called Miss Cha Cha your mom," I said, too curious to go on.
"Yeah," he smiled, looking sneaky.
"Why?"
He squeezed my hand happily, swinging the bag gently. "Because she's the closest I've had to a mom, don't you think?"
This sent me into a thought. Deep thought. Such deep thought that I hadn't realized we had rounded a glass case and stopped.
I was thinking about mothers.
"Do you like this silver chain?"
Huh?
"This rolo. Or do you like snake?"
I peered up from my thoughts. Ambrose was pointing at something in the case patiently, giving me a hopeful expression. My eyes followed his slender finger into the glass.
On black velvet under a garish light were silver chains on a little stand like a mini metal Christmas tree. They were all different types, from the rolo he had pointed out to ordinary links to fancy Singapore chains in all sorts of thicknesses.
"Huh?"
He chuckled. "What kind of chain do you like best?" he asked again, swinging out hands in glee.
"Why?"
"To keep your ring on until we can get it re-sized if they even do that for Cracker Jack rings," he giggled.
My cheeks went a shade of deep rose. "Oh," I whispered.
"You're so cute," he was giggling again and without warning he was kissing me. Right in the middle of the store!
"Mm!" I made in my throat in surprise, the rose shade on my face going crimson. He didn't stop. A sharp hit of panic burned across my heart like static electricity lighting in the dark. But in that brief moment it was over, and he was smiling at me shyly.
"You look pretty," he said with all the love in the world.
I was so in my shock I couldn't answer, embarrassment flooded me but also confusion and shame, more shame for feeling ashamed.
"You okay, sweetie?" he asked, squeezing my hand again.
"Y-yeah, just wasn't expecting that," I breathed, trying to smile back at him. But the feeling persisted.
His eyebrow raised but just then a salesman began talking to him so he turned to the man instead. I knew what that eyebrow meant.
"What sort of chain?" the salesman asked.
Just then, my eyes spied a very delicate chain in the mix, towards the middle. It was an exceptionally thin Singapore, highly polished, very long. It was so feminine looking, like a ballerina in jewelry form. "That one," I breathed, tapping the case with my nail.
"Ah, the Italian made. Good eye," he grinned extra widely, no doubt hoping for a sale. He reached into the case in eagerness, and slid it onto the counter with a light metallic noise. The tiny tag was laid up upon the glass, but when my eyes caught it my heart dropped to my toes.
Who knew such an innocent looking chain could be three hundred and forty-nine dollars?
"Ambrose, lets look at another one," I said, already peering back in the case, crouching a little bit.
"We'll take it," he said.
I gasped, staring at him like he'd just grown three more heads. "No, we won't," I said seriously, staring at the salesman dead on with my intent. I heard shuffling next to me, and my eyes went wide, seeing Ambrose already had his wallet out. His hand was going in.
"Do you take cash?" he asked casually. Too casually. Cash?
"Of course we do," the salesman beamed, only too eager to take Ambrose's hard earned money. Did he have any idea how long it took us to earn that kind of money?
"No, Ambrose, really," I said, fighting off begging in my voice. I didn't want to beg in front of the salesman.
"Its okay," he smiled at me, taking out a huge wad of cash. My heart came to a stop.
"What- That-," I sputtered. But it was all over in a moment, before I could protest.
"Have a good day," the salesman said politely, like it was nothing. Like a twenty-one year old handing him that much money was no big deal.
"Here," Ambrose said like an excited kitten. He was so happy. He'd unclasped the chain and was now spun around to my back. "Give me the ring, I'll make a necklace." He was almost singing in joy.
But that money. Oh my god, that money. That money could have paid my Mama's and my bills for months...my Mama...and then I just felt hurt, thinking about her, about all that money he'd just handed over. I was so confused. Where...did that money come from?
I held out my hand to him and he took it, slipping the ring off with ease. Like a magical being, the chain was around my neck and I felt him clasp it, the new necklace with ring pendant moving as if on its own over my borrowed coat.
"Ambrose, I..." was all I could say, so confused and hurt, unable to think.
"Consider it Christmas present part two," he said, coming around to my front and kissing my cheek sweetly.
It just made me feel worse, my present to him stupid cheap earrings, at my Mama's house waiting for him on my vanity. A present I could probably never retrieve for him. A present which would probably go into the trash by Mama.
I bit my lip, willing myself not to cry today. I had cried too much today.
"Aww, don't cry," he pouted, hugging me right in the store just like his kisses. It made me so...
"I can't," I whispered to him, "I can't..."
"Its okay, my darling."
"No," I choked, "no...no its not okay!"
He parted from me, looking hurt. I felt horrible immediately, my heart dropping into my belly in unease at the whole situation. On the one hand, he'd spent so much money so frivolously, money that troubled me, money I didn't know the origin of. On the other hand he'd spent it for me out of love, wanting to secure the ring I loved so much. That he'd given to me with so much love. He loved me. Adored me.
And then there were the other feelings that I hadn't figured out until now, because he'd never kissed and hugged me like this in such a public place before. I felt embarrassed, scared. Panicked...because he was kissing and hugging me in front of so many strangers. I was so scared. I was so scared they'd think I was a boy, uncomfortable, fearful for him, kissing me so publicly. What would people think of him?
But I knew if I was going to get to the bottom of any of this, there was only one solution.
"I need to talk to you later," I said full of my shame, my head down, staring at the tile floor.
"Okay," he said, sounding relieved.
Relieved. I was glad for that.
As the day went on, we walked to the bus stop we had first gotten off at and waited together. His hand held mine steadfast, never leaving for a second, like always. It made me feel protected, needed and loved. I wished it made me feel silly for my reaction in the store, but it didn't.
Like he had predicted, we did arrive late, but not without reward.
"I was deadly worried!" Miss Cha Cha jokingly scolded in Spanish as I entered the kitchen. She hugged me and then looked all over my outfit. Like a kiwi bird out for shiny things, she noticed my new necklace immediately. "Where did you get that? Its so gorgeous!" she gasped, lifting the ring and looking at it and the chain admiringly.
"Ambrose," I answered proudly, smiling at her.
"That money bags. You have a rich boyfriend," she said, playfully slapping my shoulder with a sneaky smirk.
The same feeling of unease wrapped around my heart like a vice, the same one I had been feeling all day. Like I was off my tether on the earth and instead floating in unfamiliar space, unable to come back down again no matter how hard I tried. My hand found my ring below my chest, safely on the long Italian chain, trying to find my safety, too.
"Yes, I am lucky," I said, trying my best to sound sincere, like nothing was wrong. Hadn't I worried her enough today? I changed the subject, to something I knew I could say with complete certainty. "Is that pork?" I asked, sniffing the air.
"Canon de cerdo!" she announced proudly. "I found pork in the grocery. Can you believe nobody's eating pork for Christmas except us? Dios mio."
I laughed and she did with me. Seeing her smile made something soften in my body, a lovely feeling.
"What do you want for the side?" she asked eagerly. "I have many things. Stuffing, beans, rice, you choose."
As I stood with her in the kitchen, the only hard decision presented to me being a side dish, I realized what the feeling was.
It felt like I was home. Warm, inviting, home. So comfortable, beautiful.
"How about stuffing? Latin style," I asked, smiling. I found it was easy to do with this feeling.
"Perfect! That's Christmas-y!" she grinned, beginning to open the cabinets.
Feeling good and stable for the first time today thanks to Miss Cha Cha, I sat at the kitchen table watching her fly around the room preparing a lovely meal for her adopted children, Ambrose and me. After a while, the lovely smell of stuffing filled the kitchen mixed with pork and I felt completely and impossibly relaxed.
Ambrose wandered in looking absolutely breathtaking in his long Morticia wig, a slinky dark red dress, and towering strappy matching heels. On his head was a cheap Santa hat with a bouncy white pom pom ball on the end. He slipped into a chair next to me, leaning to me with ruby red lips finishing off his dirty gothic Miss Santa look.
"I wrapped her present," he whispered confidently.
"Thank goodness," I smiled.
"No making out in the kitchen!" Miss Cha Cha joked, spinning to us with wooden spoon in her hand threateningly.
I laughed as Ambrose wrapped his arms around me, my heart melting like normal in the surprise.