Ruby Rose and the Red Hood

Red

           When she walked in the back door, I could tell we were going to fight. Finding no sense in skirting the issue, I asked her straight up:

           “Where were you?” She was avoiding my gaze, and my eyes drifted down to her boots. Muddy, with clods of muds still stuck on the side.

           “Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled back. She was skillfully avoiding my gaze, her eyes darting from her shoes to the floor to the door. I could tell she wanted nothing more than to escape this inevitable conversation.

           “Were you in the forest again?” I waited for the answer that I knew was coming. The silence spoke volumes.

           “Why do you keep going back? You don’t know what dangers are out there. There could be poisonous spiders, or you could be deathly allergic to one of the plants. It’s not safe, and you’re too young to be out there alone.”

           Her jaw tightened. I stood, arms crossed, blocking the hallway to the stairs where I knew she would run to and lock herself in the attic bedroom we shared.

           “Ruby Rose, are you even listening?” She rolled her eyes at me. I could see defiance in every twist of her curly hair, every pout of her red lips. “Do not roll your eyes at me.”

           “Why do you even care?” she yelled. Her green eyes flashed with anger that I was so used to seeing at this point. “You’re too busy caring for that old hag. You don’t even care about me!”

           “Your great-grandmother is not an old hag. If I hear you refer to her that way again, I’ll…” I paused. Living out in the country meant that electronics didn’t even work, and we had moved in at the height of summer vacation. Any potential friends were on vacation.

           “Or you’ll what, Mom?” Her sneer was as insulting as the glares she gave me nightly at the dinner table, the sighs in bed as we lay staring at the ceiling. “Take away my phone? Keep me from going out with my friends?” Dripping with sarcasm, her words only confirmed how different life in Granny’s house was.

           “Watch your tone,” I replied, almost instinctually. She was right; there were very few punishments I could dole out here that would have any impact. “Go to your room and think about your actions.”

           My grasp at what little authority I had was dually noted by my defiant daughter. As I stepped out of the way, she only stepped closer to the back door. Staring each other down over the old wooden table I used in the kitchen to make food, we were in an old-fashioned showdown of stares. Ruby was a headstrong, independent girl with a fiery temper and fiercely loyal personality. I had never doubted her safety in our hometown, where she was surrounded by friends. But out here, all alone, I wasn’t so sure of her.

           “Why should I do that, Mother?” The stress on the last syllable was the first strike. “You dragged me out here to this godforsaken place, with no electronics, no contact with the world, and no people anywhere close to my age, and you expect me to sit in the parlor all day? Like some good little girl?” Strike two. “I can handle myself out there. There’s nothing dangerous about the forest, and I’ll go if I please. Cause what are you going to be about it?” Strike three.

           “You will not go into the forest again, understand? I don’t care what you think about this house, or the situation. I’m tired of listening to you complain. You can from the front fence to the back fence. No further. Not into the woods. Do you understand?”

           “Why?” A simple little word that held a torrent of meaning behind it. I could feel my face getting as red as fire, and my pulse was racing through my body.

           “Because I said so!”

Ruby Rose

           I pushed past my mother and ran upstairs to the attic bedroom we shared in this old house. Slamming the door behind me, I pushed the old chest in front of it and bolted the door. Even if the hinges failed, I wasn’t going to let my mother get to me.

           I sank onto the fraying, faded old carpet. My eyes let slip the tears I was holding back, but I brushed them off. I looked around at the old bedsheets covering decades of memories. I hated it here.

           It was bad enough that my mother barely trusted me. She always had to know where I was and what I was doing and who I was with. Anybody that I became friendly with that she didn’t approve of might very well have been dead to me. She only trusted the girls I had grown up with, whose mothers she knew well and approved of. We were all in eighth grade, but I felt like they acted more like silly elementary schoolers than maturing young ladies. Always worried about boys and cooties and their appearance. I played along, because I knew that was the only way to keep my mother happy.

           But even my perfect appearances couldn’t keep my mother from ruining my life. When her granny needed help, she had to pack us both up and drive us across the country to an old-fashioned town with no internet, no TV, and no one even close to my age. She had cancelled my summer camp, even after I had begged her to let me stay the one week before it started at Kacie’s house. No, she wanted someone to suffer with, and so I was forced to spend my days re-reading the shelf of fairy tales that were the only thing my ancient great grandmother thought were “appropriate” for my age. I couldn’t talk to my friends, or watch videos, or video chat with my secret boyfriend.

           I got up from the floor and sat on one of the stools I had fished out from the piles of junk stacked around the attic. Sighing from the boredom of trapping myself, I opened the nearest trunk to categorize yet another set of belongings. I hated this chore more than I hated doing the dishes or making the bed, but it passed the time.

           The lid creaked open on its rusty hinges, stirring up a cloud of dust into the corners of the slanted ceiling. I started to pull things out. A whole set of wicker baskets, some moth-eaten and some still intact, saved by the gingham lining. Then a tray full of silverware, dirty from their long slumber in this coffin of souvenirs. Pulling that out, all I found was a folded piece of red velvet. I pulled it out, shaking out the creases. It was a cloak. I turned it around to admire it. It was large, with armholes on the sides. A ribbon held it together, and it was the same shade of red as the satin lining. I went over to the yellowing mirror and held it up to myself. It looked about my size.

           A knock at the door startled me out of the mirror. “Ruby, open the door.” My mother’s shrill voice came through the old wood. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

           “Go away,” I yelled back.

           “Ruby, I mean it. You’re meant to help with dinner.”

           “I don’t want any.”    

           “Ruby…” There was a plea in my mother’s voice. I knew she only wanted me to help as a buffer for my great grandmother, whose sharp eyes noticed everything my mother did wrong. Whatever. Mom could deal with her alone tonight. She deserved it.

           “Go away,” I retorted, looking back at myself in the full-length mirror. I heard my mother’s steps retreating down the stairs as I swished the cloak around. This would look absolutely beautiful on me. I wondered whose it had been, and why they had ever given it up.

           The thought hit me like an express train during rush hour. What if I wore this cape as a jacket and explored the woods more tonight? There was a slight twinge as I thought about it. I knew disobeying my mother was wrong, but I didn’t really care. She was overbearing and way too protective, with silly ideas of who I ought to be. Some good little girl with perfect friends and a perfect life who does whatever her mommy says. I was through listening to her. I would do what I wanted. Besides, what could she do, take away my phone?

*

           My mother was so wound up in the fact that my great grandmother had nearly choked on dinner (great grandmother’s words, not mine) and was so distraught, that she didn’t even notice anything different about me. I could hardly believe I was pulling this off, and Mom had no idea. After everyone had gone to sleep at 9 p.m., I snuck downstairs and out the back door, cape in my backpack. It was the perfect weather for a cape, with a crisp night air that warrants an extra layer or two.

           I don’t really know what drew me to the forest. There was something about the mystery of it that made me want to search it. I had a flashlight, extra batteries, and a few snacks I had managed to sneak past my mother. Just because I had to live in that old house did not mean I had to eat like an old woman.

           The forest, which had seemed so pretty in the daylight, lost some of its charm when the night was dark. I looked around every corner, but there wasn’t much to see. Trees, scattered here and there. Bushes and foliage made everything look like the overgrown greenhouse at the museum. I wandered along the path for a bit, turning off the flashlight and staring at what everything looked like in moonlight.

           The thing is, it was kind of fun at first, plotting to deceive my mom, sneaking out when I knew I wasn’t supposed to. But the “magic” of the forest lost its charm real quick when all I found was an old pathway that apparently snaked through the woods. And I wasn’t about to go wandering that in the middle of the night. I did not want to get caught. That was the goal.

           I had just about got to a point where frolicking in a red cape in the middle of the night had lost its charm, and was about to head back to the house, when a voice came from the bushes to my right.

           “Hello, little girl, lost your way?”

           I looked over to see a wolf, bent over and using a walking stick, staring with its yellow eyes from the bushes.

           “No, I know where I’m going. Thank you though.” I started to back up, trying to sound confident. I’ll be honest, I was still processing the fact that a wolf just spoke to me. And it was upright leaning on a cane. Nevertheless, I was smart enough to know you don’t let strange people…or wolves…know if you’re lost.

           “Oh,” the wolf said. I could nearly see the gears turning in its head. “Well, would you like to come with me? I have a nice warm fire. Perfect for a chilly night like tonight.”

           “No, thank you. I’m meeting a friend.” The white lie slipped through my lips faster than I had time to think. I had seen a video online about Rules for Traveling Alone, and that was one of the excuses you were supposed to give when someone asked you to come with them. In the city it might have worked. In the woods, it seemed less likely.

           “Oh,” the wolf repeated. I could see that I was puzzling it. Which I think was a good thing. I don’t actually know; I don’t have experience with talking dogs. Except the “I wuv u” ones online.

           “Well, I don’t really know what else to tell you,” the wolf admitted. I was starting to get panicky. When strangers open up to other strangers, its usually a manipulation tactic. “I haven’t really talked to many people in the past, oh, thirty-odd years. I don’t reckon you’d be interested in coming with me to, uh, smell some roses, would ya?”

           “No, thank you.” I was trying so hard to keep a neutral face, but inside my emotions were stewing. Fear was nearly gone, probably lurking in the outer edges. Annoyance was taking a front seat, joining curiosity. And of course, somewhere in there, a laugh was brewing. Whether nervous or genuinely amused by this wolf, I couldn’t tell.

           “What do kids these days like?” the wolf asked, leaning against a tree. “Back in my day, just a talking wolf promising to accompany them to grandma’s house did the trick. Course, you look like you’re running away from there.”

           I looked at the wolf, trying not to reveal anything. I was hoping the dark could hide the subtleties of my face.

           “You know, my granddaughter was just telling me her forest got this newfangled thing. Spiderswebs? No…Interwebs? Something like that. She says you can look stuff up, and there’s a whole lot of stuff on me in there. I’d be mighty interested to see what it says, cause half of the people around here got it wrong to begin with. Like how I’m related to that wolf with the pig problem. I ain’t never met that sucker in my whole life. And besides, he was working in the housing black market back in the day…”

           The story was rambling. The look in the wolf’s eye was just like the one any old person I’d ever met got when they’re not really attuned to this world and are living in their memories. If I could back up a few more steps without him noticing, I might have just enough of a head start to make a dash for the house. I inched backwards and he didn’t seem to notice.

           “…and of course I was more in the business of little girl hunting myself. So gullible, in a little red cape. Thought she’d made a friend. But I wasn’t no friend…” Just a few more steps. “She had her cute little basket with the gingham, but I could smell those things her momma made for her. Lands sakes, it smelled good. And you know, I thought she was kinda cute, in a delicious sort of way. Kinda like…” I took off running. I could hear the old wolf realize what I had done, but my youth gave me speed and I made it to the house with seconds to spare. Bolting the back door tight, I realized I had never been more grateful to see this old house before.

Red

           I never understood the change that came over Ruby Rose that summer. She turned from the sulkiest teenager to the most helpful young woman seemingly overnight. I never thought to question it. I was just grateful she was finally listening. Together, we made Granny’s last days the best ones we could.

           Ruby Rose pulled me aside the night of her wedding, when she got married to the boy she had been dating before that summer. They were high school sweethearts, college lovers, and I knew she had picked a good one. They were going to spend their honeymoon in the cottage in the woods, unplugged from technology.

           “Momma, I never did tell you this, but you remember Great-Granny’s last summer? I should have listened when you said not to go into the woods. I snuck out one night, in your red cape I found in the attic. And you’ll never believe who I met? I found your wolf!”