Chapter Text
Six-year old Ruby and her Mom sprang through the front door of Noon Lodge, during a brighter age when people had something to smile about and the smell of soy-broth noodles stirred people’s hunger. Vanilla-white light fixtures and midday Sun filtered the tavern interior and its powder-blue walls.
A guitar player’s last note jolted off-key when the pair entered.
“Hello, everyone!” Mom winked a peace-sign at everyone within and planted a fist on her hip. She glowed in their presence, a blend of lambent moon and cherry-red, outfitted in a summer dress, sandals, and a long vest. She appeared casual for the day in her easy get-up, because today was a good day when all they had to care for was each other.
The guitarist resumed their acoustic song several chords back from where they paused, while other patrons returned to their food. Cutlery tinked on plates and conversations murmured between friends.
A pale-faced server busted through one of two doors, carrying a tray of food on his way to a booth where a couple waited, all the bowls still steaming from the kitchen.
Both of the Roses made their way through the main dining lobby; through a lounge assorted with sofas, cozy booths, and spotless zen; to a bar at the backmost wall, where a young black woman served heavy drinks for an adult crowd. The fragrance had changed from fresh broth to a buttery aroma, almost foamy in the air.
The serving girl rested a cleaning rag over her shoulder and revealed a pint glass from below. “A pleasure as always, Summer. Your usual?” She reached for a silver urn on her counter-top.
“Not today, Heather.”
Heather, the barmaid, hesitated before putting away her cup.
Summer guided her daughter to stand before her. “I’m on official academy business. Ruby is here to get her first school supplies.”
The musician’s last sound halted again.
Conversations died all over.
The waiter put down his latest dish while staring.
Heather covered her mouth and was the first one to respond out loud. “Oh my Brothers. It’s baby Rose.”
Ruby flashed the same peace-sign as her mom. She wore a princess’ taffy-colored dress featured in a movie two years ago — a costume with poofy shoulders, a flowy skirt, and the heroine’s magical caduceus depicted on its chest. Ruby’s hair was grown halfway down her back, conditioned and brushed so in spite of the way it blended ebon with wine-red, it shined under the right light. Her eyes glimmered brighter than the joy in her mother’s expression.
“Hey everyone!” she sang.
For the next while, a parade of strangers adored her one at a time. They asked to take her hand, got down on one knee so they were eye-level, and gushed the same things at her over and over.
Ruby shook their hands using all the vigor she could.
She straightened face-to-face with adults, not to be impressed by their height just because they were older than her.
She thanked every one of their compliments, too, though she wasn’t sure what else she could say, since no one was asking any questions.
For example, a dark-skinned crone leaning on their cane introduced herself, “Maria Calavera, Miss Rose. It’s my genuine pleasure to meet you after so many years.” Wrinkles lined the inside of her hand and prosthetic goggles shielded her eyes.
The waiter fidgeted with his serving tray when he came up. “I like your dress. My father’s diner is at your service, Ruby, if you need us.” He checked one of the kitchen doors and hurried away before she could thank him.
One of the orange-tanned customers in a business man’s suit tipped his hat. “Welcome to the world, little lady. Welcome!” Garlic and citrus on his breath made her wince.
These were a few of the folks who praised her just for being alive and in their presence. She wouldn’t remember any of their names nor what they said. She especially forgot those who called her pretty, the identical image of her mother, or such a doll.
Of course, she knew those things already. The waiter was the only one who liked her dress, but he had vanished.
Their comments confused her more than anything. The attention was great for a time, until they repeated the same things over again with different phrases. It went on forever. Each person dragged out their time with her, slowing down her day. She didn’t know where this was coming from. She couldn’t tell what changed their attitudes, inspiring everyone to shower her with affection.
Once the last adult stepped up, both he and Mom cheered each other's names in unison and thrust into a hug. It was weird to hear people refer to her Mom like that. It wasn’t supposed to be Summer, Miss, or M’Lady — she was Mom and nothing else.
The black grown-up named Basil, a head taller than Mom, had aged with short herb-and-salt hair, a strong goatee, and laugh lines around his face. He wore sports shorts and an extra large tee-shirt over his belly, with bath slippers like he hadn’t bothered to fit on shoes. Crinkles, rumples, and a cowlick on top of his head portrayed someone who kept on the same pajamas he’d worn to bed last night, and would probably wear to bed later that evening.
Yet he held Mom at arm’s length since she didn’t seem to care about his appearance.
Ruby had plopped onto the floor during their introduction and zoned out while they caught each other up on the past season. She snapped, then, to focus, when their attention switched to her.
Mom put the man on display like he was a model in a shop window. “Ruby, this is Mr. Basil. He’s been at Signal Academy, teaching your sister and her class-mates.”
Ruby extended her hand in his direction. “Hey, Mr. Basil.”
He mimicked in as close to her tone as he could, “Hey Ruby,” before he relaxed his voice. His hand engulfed hers, but they shook gentler than anyone up to that point. “How ya doing?”
She swayed side to side, and since they were properly introduced, she slid her hand back into her lap. She was okay, but the previous party put her on the floor where she could be off her feet for a little while. “Fine.” She could recharge her social batteries here, compose whatever her mood needed to be, as long as there wasn’t another riot coming her way.
As if he read her mood and understood the position she was in, he touched his chin and nodded. “It takes a lot to accept what other people think of you. It’s exhausting, handling nonsense you can’t control. Sometimes you just gotta relax.”
Mom punched his elbow teasingly. “Easy for you to say.”
“The good news is you’re not in my class.” Mr. Basil returned to one of the stools at the bar and flagged the serving girl with a twiddle of his fingers. A couple of used glasses already stood in his section, and a TV screen shined his front. “That is to say, you don’t have to put up with me all day.”
“Come on, Ruby.” Mom tilted her head toward one of the kitchen doors. “Lots to find!” She waved farewell
He made a couple finger-guns to show his good-bye, before a camera flash stunned both of the Roses. Even he blinked a couple times, though he wasn’t caught in the shot.
A pink-faced grown-up lowered a camera from where he’d captured their image. Men’s cologne radiated from him. He hissed between his teeth with every breath and sharp light framed the angles of his features, as if oil covered his skin. “You look beautiful today, m’lady.”
Mom urged Ruby behind her.
His leering dimmed with worry and a hitch caught his wind. He wore a corporate’s ensemble of green, white, and black colors, ironed to sharpness and fitted slender to his body. His necktie portrayed a single drooping flower, but needles outlined its petaled crown. He fumbled out an apology, but before he finished, Mom interrupted.
She sharpened every word more harsh than any time Ruby had heard.
Ruby hid in the rear, close enough to clutch Mom by her vest’s tail and peek out from where she was safe. She didn’t remember what Mom said to shake the adult in his shoes, nor did she have a good angle to picture Mom’s aggression, except it had to refract opposite from the camera man’s submissive nodding.
He fiddled with his camera, showed Mom something on its backside, then bowed his way, retreating to the dining lobby.
Imaginary fumes were heaping off Mom’s shoulders. She eased her tone when she next spoke to Heather and Mr. Basil, but what sounded gentle also seemed deflated of energy. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hard on him. He obviously didn’t know better.”
The barmaid was cleaning one of her customer’s glasses. “He does. He deserved it. Don’t feel bad.”
Mom tugged on Ruby’s hand and opened the way once more to the kitchen. Meek chuckling framed her words. “Come on, sweetie. We actually have a lot to do.”