My hair is red like the licorice Daddy likes and red crayons and my backpack. I like red. It’s my favorite color. Daddy’s too. He said so yesterday when I told him I love the color red and asked for those red rainboots. He said maybe he could take me shopping for some if I wanted. I hate shopping. Too many people. But he said if I want them, I should really try them on and make sure they are good. So I guess I have to go to the store. I hate when shoes are too tight or too loose. Daddy says I’m picky, which is fine. He says it’s perfectly good to know what you like. So I guess this weekend we’ll look for boots. Daddy will hold my hand or say something to calm me if I’m upset. He never gets mad when I have one of my fits, as the teachers call them. He is nice and makes me feel better.
Stay Safe,
Ruby
September 18, 2009
6:57 p.m.
Dear Diary,
Daddy used to have a picture of Mama in his room, one besides just the one on the fireplace. I took it from his room when he threw it once. It was in March. I was scared but when he went outside to take a walk, I took it and hid it under my bed. I think he knows I took it. But maybe he’s glad I took it from his room. I think it makes him angry. I’m not sure why. I look at it sometimes. I look at the red hair like me. She was pretty, Mama was. I miss her some days when I think about her. I don’t know her but I miss her even though she probably would’ve given me hugs and I hate hugs and maybe I would not like her much. It’s weird to miss someone you don’t know, but it’s kind of like when I miss Santa Claus after Christmas. I’ve never met him, but I miss him.
I asked once what she was like, just a little bit ago. Daddy said girls who are seven shouldn’t ask so many questions. He said it’s Mama’s fault I’m so curious. I guess at least I learned that. Curious. I never realized I’m curious. I like the idea of being curious. It sounds good.
But curiosity did not kill a cat, as my stupid Grandma says. She came over today. She was asking Daddy questions about me. If I’ve been to the doctor. To the therapist. If he’s making me try new foods. She is nosy. Nosy, nosy. Daddy gets annoyed. I can tell. Grandma needs a hobby. I don’t think he likes her coming around. I don’t either. But I also don’t like when I have to stay with her. Sometimes, Daddy has me stay with her in the evenings. I wonder what he’s doing then. He just says he’s going out. Whatever that means.
Some of the things Grandma says are so dumb. They make no sense. Like about early birds catching worms and about breaking legs when I have a speech at school. I don’t know why she does that.
I like that Daddy knows I’m smart even though I don’t talk to people much. My teacher said I am smart but also bad and stubborn. She thinks I’m bad and stubborn because I’m quiet. And because I always remind her of the time, like when we’re almost late for recess or lunch. I just want her to know that we are not on time. You’d think she’d be happy that someone is helping her stay on schedule. Someone needs to watch the minutes turn over, and I am nice enough to take the job on so she can focus on the loud, really bad kids.
After Daddy said I was smart, Daddy said Mama liked rubies. I don’t know what rubies are. Daddy said they are reddish like my hair, which is why I’m called Ruby. Ruby like my hair.
Ruby Marlowe.
Marlowe with an “e” at the end. It’s a hard name to spell. I used to get it wrong sometimes. My teacher got mad when it was wrong and shouted “e” like she was an animal. I saw a monkey on the TV once. It made noises like that. The teacher didn’t like when I made monkey noises out loud at her. I was just trying to show what she sounded like. The kids started calling me monkey girl. I missed recess and snack.
I hate recess, and snack was gross peanut butter. Sticky, sticky. I hate sticky. So I didn’t care.
Daddy was mad when he found out I got in trouble. You need to follow the rules, Daddy said. He wants me to follow the rules. Sorry, Daddy, I’ll try and do better next time, I said.
My hand hurts now, Diary. I’m going to go now and watch TV with Daddy. That show is on tonight with people sending in videos that are supposed to be funny. I laugh sometimes, but not at the stupid videos. I laugh because sometimes they stir memories in me, like the one of Daddy and the ice cream cone and the dog at the fair. That’s a funny one. But Daddy thinks I laugh at the show. He says it’s good to laugh, so we watch it together.
Daddy doesn’t usually laugh, though. He just grins and lets out a bit of a coughing sound.
Stay Safe,
Ruby
September 20, 2009
6:58 p.m.
Dear Diary,
It rained today. I got to play outside in my new red rainboots. Bright, bright red, my favorite color. Daddy watched from the porch as I splashed out front in a big puddle. Mud went everywhere. Daddy didn’t care. He smiled and smoked his cigarettes while I jumped.
I usually don’t like water. Rain is okay and puddles, but not the bathtub. Water scares me. It always has. Daddy has to sit by me when I’m in the tub, and he only can put a little tiny bit of water. He says I’ve always been like this. But puddles and rain are okay. Fun, even.
Smoking is bad for lungs. I tell Daddy that. He should not smoke. We learned at school it is harmful. There are thousands of chemicals and it is addicting and it can kill you. Second-hand smoke is bad, too, but I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about Daddy. I don’t want something bad to happen to him. What would I do without him?
He told me old habits die hard. That saying doesn’t quite make sense to me, but I still don’t think he should smoke.
I splashed and splashed in the puddles. I jumped super high, higher than ever. It made me very happy to jump. My new red boots make puddle hopping a true blast.
Shopping for them was tough. The sales guy tried to touch my feet and I got very mad. I stomped and stomped and cried in the corner. I didn’t want to cry, but sometimes emotions just burst out of me like the volcano our teacher made in science class. They just erupt and I can’t stop them. Some mother with her kids called me a brat, which made me even sadder and I cried harder. Daddy called her a bad word. We went home the first time without boots. But eventually Daddy convinced me to go back. He always helps me see things in a better light. It took a few trips for me to decide on the right pair and the right size. But I finally got them just perfect.
Daddy helped me try on the boots, and once they were on, I nodded. They felt so good and they were red, my favorite color. But you know that.
I haven’t wanted to take them off. I even wore them to bed last night. Daddy didn’t mind.
So I spent the day jumping in puddles and having so much fun in my boots, testing them out in every type of puddle. I didn’t tell Daddy, but when I splash, splash, splashed, I pretended it was the puddles in the garage, the red puddles.
Can you imagine, Diary? How fun it would be to jump in the red puddles in my red boots? It would be so pretty. But then it might be harder to clean. I hope Daddy goes back to the garage soon so I can see him clean. I want to see what he does. How he does it.
I’m tired from splashing. I might go to bed early tonight. I don’t know. I don’t ever go to bed early but I’m sleepy.
Stay Safe,
Ruby
September 25, 2009
6:57 p.m.
Dear Diary,
Today was a good day at school.