Good Graces

I knew that knock.

Not because it was special.

Because it was rude.

Only one man in my life knocked like the door had personally offended him, and unfortunately, he was married to my mother.

I opened it before he could break something I’d have to pay to fix.

My mother stood on the porch with her arms wrapped around herself, eyes down, lips pressed tight. Beside her was Earl Ray, her third husband and the human equivalent of a warning label.

He wasn’t the worst man alive.

I knew enough about men to know that.

He had never hit me. Never touched me wrong. Never done anything that made me hate him completely.

But he talked to my mama like she was small, and that was enough for me.

A man didn’t have to be evil to be rotten in places that mattered.

“What?” I asked.

Earl Ray pushed past me like he owned the place.

My place.

The little house I paid for with double shifts, sore feet, and more skipped lunches than I cared to admit.

“Come on in,” I said. “Don’t wait to be invited.”

He turned on me.

“You think this is funny?”

“Usually, yes. Right now, I’m still deciding.”

Mama sighed. “Ruby, don’t start.”

That was Mama’s favorite sentence.

Ruby, don’t start.

As if I went around lighting matches for fun and everybody else just happened to be covered in gasoline.

Earl Ray pointed toward town. “I just had three boys come running their mouths about you showing out at the diner.”

I laughed.

Actually laughed.

“That’s why you’re here?”

“They said you were flirting with them.”

I stared at him.

Then I looked at Mama.

Then back at him.

“Earl Ray, one of those boys still has acne and probably thinks folding laundry is a personality trait.”

His jaw tightened.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“I think you rarely know what anyone is doing, including yourself.”

“Ruby,” Mama snapped.

There it was.

Not Earl Ray, stop being an ass.

Not Ruby, honey, are you okay?

Just my name spoken like a warning.

Earl Ray stepped closer. “Those boys are bad news.”

I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself.

“Oh no. Really? The boys who snap at waitresses and break plates aren’t quality citizens? Thank God you came all the way over here to tell me.”

His face darkened.

“You got a smart mouth.”

“I rent, own a broom, and pay taxes. I earned it.”

“You’re reckless.”

That one landed harder than it should have.

Maybe because of the bus.

Maybe because somewhere in town, three idiots had turned me standing up for Dani into some story about me throwing myself at children with driver’s licenses.

Or maybe because I was tired.

Just tired.

“Reckless?” I asked.

“You almost got hit by a damn bus tonight.”

I went still.

Mama’s eyes lifted for the first time.

“How did you know that?”

Earl Ray crossed his arms. “Town talks.”

Of course it did.

Town talked before a person even had time to limp home.

“And then,” he continued, “from what I heard, you were hanging all over some stranger in the middle of the street.”

My mouth fell open.

“Hanging all over—he saved me!”

“He touch you?”

I blinked.

“What?”

“I asked if he touched you.”

“He pulled me out of the road so I didn’t die.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“I didn’t exactly schedule the rescue.”

Earl Ray scoffed. “You got no sense. Walking around, drawing attention, making yourself look available to every man passing through town.”

Heat crawled up my neck.

There it was.

The real reason.

It wasn’t about the boys.

It wasn’t about the bus.

It was about control.

Men like Earl Ray didn’t like strangers.

Not real strangers.

Not ones who might stay.

This town had a way of making sure its girls married men already approved by the men who ran things. Fathers’ friends. Stepdaddies’ buddies. Men with dirty hands and clean excuses.

They called it protection.

I called it keeping women close enough to watch.

Because new men asked new questions.

New men noticed things.

New men sometimes had a problem with the illegal little arrangements that kept certain men powerful and certain families quiet.

And Earl Ray had made it plenty clear that when I decided I was ready to date again, he had a few “good men” in mind.

His good men.

His goons.

“No,” I said quietly.

His eyes narrowed. “No what?”

“No, you don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I did something wrong because a man kept me from getting run over.”

Mama whispered, “Ruby, please.”

I looked at her.

Really looked at her.

Beautiful as ever. Tired as always.

And silent.

Always silent when it mattered.

Earl Ray shook his head. “You are selfish as hell, you know that? Always have been. Reckless. Mouthy. Think you know better than everybody.”

My throat tightened.

I hated that it hurt.

I hated it because I knew better.

I had gotten myself through high school.

Gotten my first job.

Bought my own car.

Signed the lease on this tiny house with shaking hands and no help from him.

I had never been arrested.

Never stolen.

Never caused trouble beyond having opinions men didn’t enjoy.

And still, somehow, when they looked at me, they didn’t see that.

They saw what they expected.

A girl raised around bad men.

A girl who must be bad too.

A girl who belonged in the box they built for her.

“You don’t know me,” I said.

Earl Ray laughed. “I know exactly what you are.”

That did it.

“No,” I snapped. “You know what you want me to be because it makes it easier for you to treat me like trash.”

Mama gasped softly.

Earl Ray took one step forward.

I didn’t move.

Maybe I should have.

But something in me had gone still and sharp.

“I’d be careful,” he said.

I smiled, but there was no humor in it.

“Me too.”

For a second, neither of us spoke.

Then Mama finally found her voice.

Not for me.

Never for me.

“You need to show some respect,” she said. “The only reason you’re allowed to stay here and live your life without trouble is because of his good graces.”

His good graces.

I looked around my living room.

At the secondhand couch.

The bills stacked on the counter.

The cheap curtains I’d bought on clearance.

My life.

Small, maybe.

But mine.

And somehow she stood there acting like he had gifted it to me.

Something inside me folded.

Not broke.

Just folded.

Like a letter I didn’t want to read yet.

“Get out,” I said.

Mama’s face changed.

“Ruby—”

“Both of you.”

Earl Ray stared at me like he wanted to say more.

Maybe he did.

But he didn’t.

He grabbed Mama’s arm—not hard, but enough that my eyes went to his hand—and pulled her toward the door.

After they left, I locked it.

Then I stood there in the quiet.

Small.

That was how I felt.

Small in a house I had fought to have.

Small in a life I had built myself.

Small in a town that kept trying to remind me who I was supposed to be.

I made it to bed without crying.

Mostly out of spite.

But sleep didn’t come easy.

When it finally did, my last thought wasn’t of Earl Ray.

Or Mama.

Or those boys.

It was of the stranger with coffee-colored eyes and dark ringlets who had pulled me out of the road like I mattered.

Tall, dark, and handsome.

Grandma Mae would have thought he was cute.

That was the last thing I thought before the dreams came.