That part was probably true.
Joey did love her mother. She really did. She had come to understand that her mother had done her best, considering who her own mother was. Joey’s mother had a bad mother, too.
“Joey.” Ruby looked at her. “If you love me, you will do this for me. It’s really the least you can do.”
Joey made her decision.
“Okay, Mama,” she said. “I’ll tell them.”
Her mother let out a long breath. “That’s my good girl,” she said, her face breaking into a triumphant smile. “I know you’ll be great up there. A few tears won’t hurt, either. Really sell it, okay?”
“Okay,” Joey said. “I love you.”
Say it back. Please. Just say it back once.
Ruby sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll believe that when you do this for me.”
Conditional love, the only kind her mother knew.
* * *
Paris finally finds Ruby’s episode of Murderers. It’s in season 7, episode 12. Despite common sense telling her that watching this will not provide the distraction she’s looking for, she hits play and settles into the sofa.
Ruby has certainly never seen this episode, nor has she seen the terrible made-for-TV movie about her called The Banker’s Mistress that aired a year later. But she has to be aware of them both, and there’s no doubt she would hate them. In the gospel according to Ruby Reyes, the most grievous sin isn’t murder. It’s the airing of her dirty laundry.
The first time Joey learned this lesson, she was six years old. She and Ruby had just left a meeting with Joey’s first-grade teacher, who was concerned that she was falling asleep in class. When Mrs. Stirling asked Joey why she was so tired, Joey said her mother’s boyfriend had slept over, and the two of them had made noise all night long.
After the meeting, Ruby slammed the car door and peeled out of the school driveway. When they stopped at a red light, she reached over and pinched Joey’s arm. The pain was sudden and sharp, and Joey squealed.
“You never, ever talk about our lives,” her mother hissed. “What happens at home is between you and me, do you understand?”
“But Mrs. Stirling asked me,” Joey said. “And we’re supposed to tell the truth.”
Ruby pinched her again, and again, until Joey cried.
“The truth is whatever I tell you it is,” her mother said. “You embarrassed me. Don’t you ever do that again.”
From a young age, the notion of truth had always been a fluid concept to Joey. You could take a completely true story, omit a few key details here and there, diminish certain facts while highlighting others, and end up with a completely different narrative. Was the story still true? Yes. It was just a different expression of the truth, designed to tell the story in a specific way to garner a specific reaction.
It wasn’t just the bad guys who did this. It was the good guys, too.
The morning after she met with her mother in jail, Deborah took Joey to meet with the crown attorney to prepare for her testimony. Madeline Duffy （my friends call me Duffy） was a nice lady like Deborah said, but a bit relentless. She had Joey walk her through the events of the night of Charles’s murder a dozen times, making her go over it and over it, adjusting her questions to best prompt the answer she wanted. Then she fine-tuned Joey’s responses until everything was worded exactly as she needed it to be for maximum impact.
“Okay, last one,” Duffy said. Normally Joey wouldn’t feel comfortable thinking of an adult by just their last name, but she was so tired, she’d stopped worrying about it. “I know it’s been a long day, and I’m sure Deb is ready to get going.”
“Joelle’s aunt and uncle will be here soon to pick her up,” Deborah said. “They’d like to get on the road before traffic gets bad.”
“No problem.” Duffy gave Joey a smile. “We’re almost done.”
Deborah patted Joey’s shoulder. “I have to step out to make a phone call, honey. And then I’ll be outside to meet your aunt and uncle when they get here.”
Please don’t leave without saying goodbye.
Deborah leaned over and spoke into her ear. “Don’t worry, I would never leave without saying goodbye. You’re one of my most favorite people.”
I love you, Deborah.
When they were alone, Duffy kicked off her heels and leaned against her desk. “Okay, Joelle. When I ask you this next question, I want you to think about all the married men your mother was involved with and how each of those relationships ended.”