THE LEGACY – CHAPTER 11

The week between Christmas and New Years was flying by for Ruthie. Her family had only been able to stay until the 26th, but they had gone to Christmas day services at Marissa's church, and had Christmas dinner with Gary and Toni and his parents. Honestly she was surprised at how well the families had meshed, even if Annie was still a little leery of Toni because she carried a gun. Now Ruthie had a problem, how do you approach someone that knows the future and tell him you want to help. What could you say to make him believe that you just want to help him that you don't want the burden that directly working with the paper would mean? Actually she did have an idea, but she didn't know if she had the courage to go through with it.

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Gary was in a pretty bad mood, and had been for a couple of days. Christmas had been great, the fact that RC's family had been here had made it a lot more festive than it usually was. Unfortunately there were two rather negative results from spending time with the Camden's; one was his mother was now in full Grandma mode and pressuring Toni and him to have a baby, the second was that Toni was now in Michigan, trying to reconcile with the rest of her family. With his mom putting on the full court press and Toni not here and the paper keeping him hopping, he was grumpy and getting grumpier. He didn't want to blame RC, but a part of him couldn't help it.

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New Years Eve was here, and every bar in the city was busy. Ruthie was in for the whole day along with most of the staff. For a week she had tried to come up with a way to let Gary know without upsetting him. She wasn't having much luck though. So far the only idea she had was the direct approach, and even though that was more her style, it wasn't very diplomatic. But she was running out of time and it was the best she had. She had already stashed the painting and the note, now all she had to do was find a way to stash herself so she'd be there in the morning, before anyone or anything else.

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As far as Gary was concerned, New Year's Eve was one long save fest, keeping drunks from killing each other, making sure drunken girls didn't become victims, defusing bar fights; that pretty much summed up New Years for him every year. This one had proved to be no exception. He had walked three very drunk girls back to their dorm, that way they accidentally walk into a men's dormitory instead, to disastrous consequences. At last count he had put 11 drunk drivers in cabs; and now he was trying to convince a two drunken college kids that their house was going to burn down in about ten minutes.

"So you're saying there's gonna be a fire."

"Yeah, there's gonna be a fire."

"Here"

"Well of course here, I wouldn't be here about a fire across town now would I?"

"He's got a point dude."

"Nah, it's a scam, he's just tryin to crash." Turning back to Gary "and how do you know this?"

"That doesn't matter, I just know."

"Hey you want in, you're gonna have to do better than that."

"I can't do better than that, the house is gonna catch fire."

"Hey man, Cindy's screamin about the couch smoking."

Hearing this, Gary busted in past the two idiots and just followed the screaming. That was more of a problem then it sounds like because several of the rooms were already occupied by couples; couples that were producing a lot of noise on their own. Finally he found the smoke and the burning couch. He kicked the cushions off and used the fire extinguisher that he was carrying to put it out.

"Man he trashed your couch, your mom's is gonna be pissed" the friend pointed out.

"Hey dude, who's gonna cover the damages" he asked, but the old guy had already left. "Bummer"

Gary got back to McGinty's just as the ball was dropping, he sang along with 'Auld Lang Syne', but he sincerely doubted that next year would be better than this one.

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Ruthie was hiding in the bathroom. A little cliché, but effective. She had stayed to help with the clean-up and then just turned the lights out and hid in the stall. Since she was the last girl there, she didn't think it likely that anyone else would try to use the bathroom. She heard the sounds of locking up, then she waited for another half hour, just to make sure. Then, as quietly as possible, she climbed the stairs to the loft. She passed Gary's door, and went back to where the other room's entrance was. She didn't go in, that would be rude, but she did crash down in the hallway, using her coat as a pillow. She set her watch alarm for 5 AM and went to sleep.

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Her alarm went off, but not for long, she looked around, no paper. She stretched, trying to be as quiet as possible and wondered when it would get there, if it would get there. She believed that Gary was getting the paper a day early, but she didn't think she'd absolutely believe until she held it in her hands. She went through her speech in her mind, over and over, how to say what she meant while assuring him that she was neither a threat nor a thrill seeker. Would he believe that she wasn't interested in whatever rewards the paper brought, except the knowledge that she had made a difference.

Well, if all else failed there was the note. Ruthie was much better writing than she was speaking, you can't become tongue tied on paper. She was drifting in and out of sleep, so her eyes were closed when she heard the smack of a paper hitting the ground and a cat's yowling. She looked up; there was a paper in the hallway now. Slowly she went over to it and looked; Wednesday, January 2 the masthead proclaimed, it really was tomorrow's paper. She stood up, not really able to believe it even when it was in her hands. Suddenly the door to her right jerked open and she looked into the very confused eyes of Gary Hobson.

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"Mr. Hobson, uhmmm, here's your paper" she said, holding it out to him. "I knew that's how you were doing it, but I just had to see for myself, you know, I had to be a hundred percent sure." She realized she was babbling, so she tried to go with her prepared speech. She looked up into his face and couldn't believe what she saw there; a mixture of confusion, anger and betrayal. She gasped out "I just wanted . . . . . " but the rest of the words just died in her throat.

For Gary, the confusion was rapidly giving way to anger "oh I think I know what you wanted. You wanted to be a part of something beyond the ordinary so you would be more exceptional than you already are. You want the thrill of being the hero without having to work at it."

Ruthie shook her head in denial, but words failed her.

"You know what, I think you knew who I was from the minute you walked in the door of this place and if I'd been slower getting here, I imagine I wouldn't have had a paper today. So what is it money, just to know who wins, or just to have a day where you feel like God because you know everything that's gonna happen."

"No" Ruthie managed at last "nothing like that, I just want to help."

"Sure, Help, Right" Gary almost sneered "So you hide downstairs, stake out my door, nearly run off with my paper and all to help me. No thanks RC, that kind of help I can do without. You're not out of college, you've never lived outside a dorm or your parents' home, you have no idea what the real world is like, so how could you help me."

Ruthie was silent, stunned at the vehemence of the outburst.

"Let me tell you something little girl, this thing is a burden like you couldn't believe, you put yourself on the line for people that don't know your name or think that you're crazy; and at the end of the day you're lucky if no one ended up in the hospital or arrested. You rarely get thanked or even remembered and when you fail it feels like you're the one that died, or was hurt. Now somehow I don't think you could handle that, so why don't you run along and play with your paints and spy on someone else and let me do my job."

With that he closed the door in her face.

The echoes of the door closing had not yet died when Ruthie found herself down the stairs and out the front door. She made it to her studio; she was never sure how she managed that as she could barely see for her tears. They were tears of pain at what Gary had said, but they were also tears of anger and frustration because what had been said was both unfair and untrue. Ruthie got herself under a semblance of control, found the student phone and called McGinty's. She thanked God that she got the machine and not Gary or Marissa.

"Marissa, it's Ruth; I'm sorry to do this too you, but I can't work there anymore. I realize how unfair it is of me to not give you two weeks, but something happened, and it just won't work. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate the kindness that you've shown me. Your friendship and caring have meant a lot. Please tell Gary to just tear up the note, he'll understand. Thank you for everything, and goodbye." She hung up the phone, and the tears threatened to come again. But she suppressed them, forcing them down with an iron will. She went back to her studio, closed the door, put in an appropriate CD and just sat and thought.

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Marissa was surprised to find McGinty's front door open when she got to work. 'Gary must have had an early save' she thought and went in. But Gary was here, she could hear him in his room upstairs, her brow creased in confusion; it didn't make sense. Still wondering what was going on, she sat down at her desk and played the messages on the machine. The first three were routine business, then she heard the one from Ruth. She could hear the sorrow and pain in the girl's voice. What had happened to cause her to quit so suddenly. The last part of the message mentioned Gary, maybe he would know what was happening. Slowly, almost reluctantly; she climbed the stairs. She could hear Gary pacing back and forth, the floor squeaking under the pressure of his steps, she had rarely heard him so agitated. She poked her head in the door "Gary, could I talk to you for a second."

He stopped pacing and just looked at her for a moment, "what is it Marissa?"

"Well, Ruth Camden just quit, I was wondering if you knew why?"

"Yeah, I'll tell you why, the little snoop was trying to make off with the paper, and then when I catch her, she tries to say that she's just wanting to help."

"You really had to take the paper from her?"

"No, but I opened the door and she had it in her hand with this wild look on her face; then she starts babbling about how she knew this was how I knew about what was going to happen, but that she needed to touch it for herself to make sure it was real."

"And then she handed you the paper?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then why are you so sure she was trying to take the paper?"

"Come on Marissa I spent the whole day saving kids just like her; spoiled, self absorbed little brats that never think about anyone but themselves, RC just covers it up better."

"Listen to yourself Gary; do you really think she's like that? Honestly?"

Gary stopped in mid tirade to consider what Marissa had just asked. Did he believe that Ruth was like that? Maybe not, but he hadn't thought she was the kind of person to ambush the paper either. "I don't know Marissa; I really don't."

Marissa just shook her head at her friend; she hoped he hadn't screwed up too badly. "I almost forgot, she said to tell you to just tear up the note."

"Note, what note?"

"She didn't hand you a note?"

"No, she just handed me the paper, then she ran."

"Maybe it's still in the hall; anyway, when you find it, just tear it up" and with that, Marissa headed downstairs.

Gary was still standing in the middle of his room. 'Well' he thought 'I may as well find the darn note'. The hallway was the obvious place to look. He saw a coat on the floor, back near the guest room. He picked it up and saw a flash of white 'that must be the note' he thought. Then he saw that it hadn't just been the coat lying in the hallway, he bent close looking at the other thing that had been left. "Oh boy" Gary said, a vague feeling of dread forming in his gut. It was a painting, a painting of Gary and Toni from the play. The style was very different from what he had seen of hers in the past. This one was almost photographic in its realism, with the paint adding texture to their faces. As he looked, not quite daring to touch it, the vague feeling in his gut was congealing into a very real pang of guilt. She had shocked him, but that in itself didn't justify the things he had said. He picked up the note and looked at it with real trepidation. Gary came within an ace of doing exactly what Ruth had asked of him, but curiosity won out in the end and he opened it. He stood there reading, and when he had finished, he almost wished he had just torn it up.

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She had it now, the entire painting was clear in her mind. She knew exactly what she wanted to present, and the techniques that she would use. Now all she had to do was get mentally ready. For her, that meant the right music. Realizing its importance to her art early on, Ruthie had an extremely eclectic music collection, everything from Bach to the Beastie Boys, from Robert Johnson to Run DMC. That way, finding the right tunes wouldn't be a struggle, no matter what mood she was looking for. She made her selections and sat and listened and absorbed; soon she would be ready.

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"Marissa, I need help."

"What's the matter Gary?"

"I'll tell you what the matter is; I'm an idiot, that's what the matter is."

"Not following you."

"I found the note."

"Did you tear it up?"

"No, but I wish I had; but brilliant me, I read it instead."

"That doesn't sound good, what does it say?"

"Just listen: Dear Mr. Hobson; Sorry if I gave you too much of a shock, I guess I'm just not that subtle a person. I wanted to start off by thanking you again for saving my life. I realize how inadequate just saying thanks is, so I hope my little present will help even the score just a little bit."

"Present" Marissa asked.

"A painting of Me and Toni from the play."

"Oh Boy"

"I cannot even imagine the pressure you are under every day, keeping people alive that don't even know they're in danger, the agony if you miss even one, the constant demand, because people are always doing stupid things. There is no way I could do what you do, nor do I want to try. But what I do want to do is offer you my comfort. I can't do what you do, but I can help you do it. If you ever need to talk, and either Marissa or Toni isn't around, you can talk to me. I promise to never pass on what I know about you, and though I can't bear your burden, I can help you bear it, if you want me to. Do not feel obligated to me for any reason, if you never talk to me about the paper, that's OK; but please be assured that I'm here if you need me, no matter what.

Sincerely;

Ruth Camden

P.S. Thanks again, that was a great flying tackle.

There was silence in the office for about ten seconds; finally Marissa said "I've got to hand it to you Gary, when you screw up, you don't go halfway."

"Thanks Marissa, ya got anything constructive to say."

"Yeah, I'd say you owe someone an apology, and you better do it before her brother finds out and comes gunning for your butt."

"I know, but how the heck can I apologize for what I said?"

"I don't know; all I know is you better find a way, fast."

"Yeah, yeah; but not right now, I've got to stop someone from falling in front of the El over by Merchandise Mart."

"Be careful, and try not to get anyone else mad at you."

"Funny Marissa, but I think I've already exceeded my quota for the day."

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Gary had succeeded in saving the guy, a rather high strung realtor; unfortunately the guy was so grateful that he wanted to sell Gary a house, at a discount of course. Gary finally lost him in the press, but it took a bit of doing. He was still thinking about this morning and decided that just walking over and groveling was his best bet. He headed for Ruthie's studio, rehearsing what he was going to say. His next save wasn't until two thirty, a fire at a sorority house, so he figured he had time.

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Teressa didn't know how to handle it, Camden had never listened to this kind of stuff before, at least not for more than ten minutes, but five straight hours of Metallica, Megadeath, the Sex Pistols and everything else loud and angry that she could think of. Something bad must have happened, and now Ruthie was dealing with it, Teressa only wished that she didn't force everyone else to deal with it as well, but everyone in the building knew what happened when you interrupted Camden in one of these moods. So Teressa just gritted her teeth and waited for the storm to abate. She was wondering if she should not even be trying to work when she saw Gary go by. "Gary, what are you doing here?"

"It's a long story, but I need to talk to RC."

"Not today"

"It's important, he what's with the earbleeding music?"

"That's Camden, come here for a second and I'll try to explain." They retreated to Teressa's studio, and closed the door, cutting off the worst of the sound. "Now this is gonna sound a bit weird, so stick with me. The reason Camden is so good isn't her technique, although that's brilliant, it's because she gets so much emotion into her work. She does that through music. She'll listen to the kind of music that provokes the emotion she's looking for, and then when she's; I dunno, full I guess, she stops the music and starts painting. Somehow she channels the emotion that she's full of into her work. Let me tell you a story. She had a boyfriend when she first came here, and during her sophomore year, he came all the way from California for a formal, God was she thrilled. Anyway, in the middle of the dance, the creep dumps her, seems as though he has a girl back at Stanford or wherever. She comes back here and listens to the most depressing, make you want to slit your wrist music I've ever heard; for twenty four straight hours. Then she stops listening and starts painting, forty eight hours later she comes out of her studio with one paint covered formal dress and the painting that won the Guggenheim for that year. She had focused all of that pain and depression into the painting somehow, and it was incredible. So you could say that what she's doing now is just charging the batteries before she goes to work."

"That's great and all, but I really do need to talk to her."

"Gary, you don't interrupt when she's working, you just don't do it. I'll tell her you stopped by when she's done, but until then, she wouldn't come out or stop even for the Rapture."

"I'll just be extra charming" Gary said with a smile turned to go "and thanks for the information."

"Your welcome, but I'm telling you, leave Camden alone or you'll be sorry."

"Thanks for the warning" Gary said over his shoulder as he headed for the source of the sound. He found the door easily enough, her name was on it and everything. He knocked and said "Ruth, we need to talk." Hearing no reply he turned the knob and opened the door.

He had about half a second to register what the studio looked like before he caught a face full of purple tempra paint, shot from a Super Soaker. Ruthie kept it full and pressured up to discourage interruptions, so far, no one had tried to interrupt her twice. As Gary was clearing his eyes, he heard the sound of her pumping the pressure up for a second shot. Thinking Teressa was right; Gary withdrew his head and closed the door. He headed back to Teressa's studio, trying to clear the paint from his eyes. When he got there, she just started laughing "I tried to tell you" she gasped out between her bouts of laughter.

"Yeah you did" Gary said "I guess it's just my day to be an idiot. You said you'd let her know that I need to talk to her whenever she gets done?"

"Yeah Gary, not a problem."

"Thanks Teressa, I guess I'd better get cleaned up." And with that, he left.