Number Nine: Chapter 14

THE LAND OF OZ


FADE IN:

EXT. HIGHWAY – DRIVER’S VIEW – DAY

IT’S A DREAM (from Neil Young’s Prairie Wind) slowly fades as THE PAINTER (same album) slowly comes to the foreground. The land is changing from the sandy desert of Third Mesa to the windblown plains and farmlands of Oklahoma and Kansas.

Green to green, red to red
Yellow to yellow in the light
Black to black when the evening comes
Blue to blue in the night

INT. PICKUP – RUBY’S VIEW – NEARING SUNSET

Close up of JAKE, eyes on the road, driving, as Ruby studies him.

It’s a long road behind me
It’s a long road ahead
If you follow every dream, you might get lost…

Fade out THE PAINTER. Fade in REVOLUTION 9.

Number nine, Number nine…



They were rolling down Highway 160, as fast as the old Ford could take them without shaking their bones loose, the desert flatlands giving way to soft hills and dales, the browns and reds of the earth to the greens and yellows of grass, trees, fields of wheat, corn and alfalfa, from the random richness of nature to the ordered markings of man.

The route would take them through Ulysses (the civil war hero and president who authorized the genocidal wars on the Lakota and Nez Perce) and Hickok (the legendary lawman and gambler who served as a scout to Custer’s 7th Calvary), where they would head north through the Buffalo Game Reserve to Garden City, Kansas, home of Ruby’s grandmother and the land of her childhood dreams.

Ruby had no childhood – not really. Her father left when she was a girl and only years later did she remember how abusive he had been. To this day there were chapters she would not fill. All but erased from her memories, events would emerge as scattered images like a reflection in a broken mirror and dive back into deep shadows before the meaning could be grasped. Her mother was always obsessed with the wrong kinds of men, drugs and alcohol. Ruby survived to her teenage years when she broke out of her shell, the self imposed prison of her emotions, to claim her space in the world. She was pronounced incorrigible and shipped off to her grandparents in Garden City. By the time she finished high school and set out on her own, she had lost contact with her mother, her father, her stepfather and everyone else with a family connection – even her grandparents whom she loved more than life.

Since her grandfather died several years back, her grandmother was the only family Ruby had and now, with the prospect of death in her mind and its shadow on her trail, she felt a burning desire, after leaving Third Mesa, to take her in her arms, to hold her once more, to look into the mirror of time and to rekindle the dying flame of family.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” said Ruby.

“What’s that?”

“When I picked you up back in California, I could have sworn you were broke.”

Jake laughed. “I won a bet in Vegas.”

“That was you, the royal flush?”

Jake nodded. “In hearts.”

“Why aren’t we on a plane to Aruba?”

“I only had a dollar,” he explained.

“Figures,” Ruby reflected. She studied him as if he was a player, to see if she could read him. “You like to gamble, Jake?”

“Like the white man says,” he smiled, “all Indians love to gamble…only I hate to lose.”

Ruby’s mind was racing ahead. There was a riverboat casino that ran from St. Louis to New Orleans. She had seen pictures and dreamed of a cruise down the Mississippi with all the comforts, flash and excitement of Las Vegas. They could build a stake to lay down a claim in the Easy.

“You’ve got to believe, baby,” she said. “Believing is everything. I’ve seen a man knock down a bull, a crow fly like an eagle, and a little girl stare down a beast the size of a bear. The power of belief is everything.”

Jake knew at a glance Ruby was on a roll and there was no stopping her. She had a plan and she would stick to it like moths to a lonely light bulb.

“We head over to St. Louis, catch the Mississippi Queen and head on down to New Orleans. We hit ‘em on the Queen, hit ‘em in New Orleans, head on over to Biloxi and him ‘em again. The sky’s the limit, baby, and we’re rolling nothing but sevens!”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

“No, Jake, I’m serious. You have to believe.”

He gave her time to examine him like a mystified doctor until she grasped the depth of his sincerity. There was no need for persuasion. He was with her as long as the spirits approved. Even then, if it should ever arise, he would never leave her until she was safe. It was a delicate balance: assuring her safety and honoring her instincts.

“I believe in you, Ruby. I believe.”

Jake and Ruby: nothing could stop them. They had the magic of destiny and the medicine of the crow. They were a force of nature, undeniable and pure. Like Bonnie and Clyde, Cisco and Poncho, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, they were bound for glory on the road of adventure and nothing but nothing could stand in their way.

“Got a wide open road and a wide open sky! Got the four winds blowing through the cracks in my mind! Got moonbeams shining in my wide open eyes! Mercury’s in the house of wonder and my baby’s got a crow on his shoulder! What more can a woman ask?”

She edged over to Jake, put her arms around his shoulders, pressed her body against him and tickled his ear with her breath.

“What do you say we pull in to the next motel? Grandma can wait,” she whispered.

Rounding a slow curve, Jake happily obliged, checking into cabin number nine at the inevitable Sleepy Time motel. Life was good. The muses were dancing, the graces playing and the gods were in their rightful places.

They spent the sweet hours of night making love and the rest of the time playing poker over chips and beer. Ruby taught him all she knew: Tell signs, markers, who to play against and who to play with, when to play slow and when to go for the kill. She came to the conclusion he had natural talent. Some folks are born with the gift and Jake was one of them. He was hard to read, easy to misread and hard to play for a fool.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked as he settled in the grip of her embrace.

“I’m in love with you,” he replied.

“Have you ever been in love before?” she asked.

He had known love before but it burned in his heart. It was a love that took root in his gut and haunted his soul. It was more than a year since her passing but not a day passed without a glance, a smile, a word, the sight of a yellow moon, or the turning of a page reminded him of her. In so many ways, Ruby reminded him of her. Love reminded him. Passion reminded him. The softness of her touch and the pull of her loins reminded him of her. Everything reminded him until he prayed to let go, to let her memory be washed away, to let her love be buried in the sea of yesterday.

“I’m in love with you now,” he said and said no more.

Ruby let it go. She knew what it was like to have painful memories summoned against her will. She was familiar with the need to bury the past. Friends had often said she should confront her ghosts, her demons, her dark memories. She should let them out in the open and slay them like dragons. But what if the dragons consumed her? Maybe some day she would take their advice but not today. For now she would keep them hidden away and channel the pain into something useful – singing and dancing and living life without regrets. If it was good enough for her it was good enough for Jake. Maybe it was the key to the bond that held them together.

They slept a few hours, awoke with clear minds, and covered the last stretch of asphalt to grandma’s house and the Land of Oz. Ruby was glowing. The radiance of her spirit made the bright Kansas sun pale and tepid by comparison. Destiny’s child, Alice in Wonderland, Dorothy and her ruby red slippers, the magic and wonder and beauty of believing.

On the road to Garden City, at the turnoff to grandma’s house, they were greeted by four crows on a telephone line, scattering in all directions as they passed. Jake looked at Ruby but saw that she was already gone, on a journey of memories. In her life in LA or Las Vegas, she never mentioned her family. She told her friends she was an orphan, transferred from foster home to foster home from Chicago to Seattle. She never spoke of her childhood and no one ever pressed her.

The bond between Ruby and her grandmother was profound yet foreboding. Ruby had a keen sense of fear. What was she afraid of? Afraid of losing her last connection to the bloodline? Afraid of not belonging? Afraid of losing the innocence of unconditional love? Afraid of being captured by love and losing her independence, her inimitable free spirit?

She remembered dancing over lawn sprinklers on hot summer days, playing with imaginary playmates, opening her eyes to see her grandmother’s loving smile through the kitchen window. She remembered rag dolls, the breakfast of champions, malto meal, hot chocolate, cowgirl coffee, fudge brownies and oatmeal cookies. She remember falling asleep, dreaming of boyfriends and wild adventures, safe in her grandmother’s arms.

Ruby smiled in reflection and tears suddenly streamed from her eyes. Jake pulled over and held her until the trembling subsided.

“Something has happened,” she said.

Jake already knew. He saw the shadow of death surround her like a thick mist in a dark forest. Ruby did not believe in death. She believed it was only a passage, a doorway, a simple transformation of the life spirit, a turning of the great wheel or the endless cycle of eternal existence. She believed that good people would be blessed in transformation and bad people would be cursed. She knew that her grandmother would be blessed but she yearned to see her one last time, if only to say thank you and goodbye, if only to tell her she loved with every piece of her shattered heart.

When they pulled up to the old farmhouse, there were cars parked in the gravel driveway, children playing quietly in the shade of a willow, faces long with grief and through the window Ruby’s long lost mother, painted in sorrow.

They walked into the shadow of mourning and Ruby’s mother gasped, taking hold of Ruby’s hands, whispering, “She’s been asking for you.”

She walked to the bedroom door as the world turned gray and slowed to a crawl, as if prayers could hold back time and the hand of god. She swallowed the bitter pill of fate and bit down hard on her lower lip as if pain could ease her sorrow.

She saw death in her grandmother’s eyes. In that moment, she was gone and Ruby saw the light. A fluttering butterfly, a soaring bird of prey, rounding its way to heaven’s gate, and the smiling, radiant face of love.

“Maemah,” she whispered. “I love you.”

“Sweet child,” her grandmother said. “I love you with all my heart.”

Her hand reached out to grasp Ruby’s and then she was gone. Her mission complete, her last act of love a final goodbye to her favorite child.

It was beyond Ruby’s control and beyond her comprehension. She made peace with her mother, listened to stories of affection, and heard someone say, “There’s no place like home.” She had found her way to the Land of Oz and the eternal dream of belonging but she did not belong here and she knew she never would.

“Where’s Jake?” she asked suddenly.

“He went for a walk about an hour ago,” someone said.

Ruby found him sitting in the bed of the pickup, back to the cab.

“What are you up to, Sailor?”

Jake was in a daze, swimming in a sea of chaos, particles of random energy, molecular disarray, spirals of starlight, concentric circles of self-consuming thought, mind over body, body over mind, the fire of all existence like a magnet to his soul.

“I was watching the stars and it occurred to me,” he replied. “Maybe Einstein didn’t discover relativity. Maybe he invented it.”

Ruby laughed until she cried and wiped away the tears. The workings of his mind were the greatest mysteries of all.

“Thanks for that, Jake.”

“You have a choice,” he said. “You have a home and family.”

Ruby looked at the house of her grandparents, a house that was once filled with love and kindness, and caught the glancing eye of her mother.

“You’re right about that, Jake,” she replied, “but it isn’t here.”

She took the wheel as Jake jumped in the passenger’s side, and they drove off into a warm, silent Kansas night. Fate took its turn and the adventure continued.

Ruby turned the radio on and hit the dash with her fist.


FADE IN:

EXT. HIGHWAY – DRIVER’S VIEW – NIGHT

THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD comes to the fore as headlights shine on the dotted line.

Many times I’ve been alone
And many times I’ve cried
Any way you’ll never know
The many times I’ve tried

But still they lead me back
To the long winding road
You left me standing here
A long long time ago
Don’t leave me waiting here
Lead me to your door…

Fade WINDING ROAD. Fade highway to black.

We hear softly: Number nine, Number nine, Number nine.

Fade out.