The voice was crackling in her ear again, but now Ruby was crying too hard to really appreciate its efforts to be earnest.
“It’s not easy for you. All right, I do believe— It’s the hardest thing you ever had to do. I see . . . But Bill,” she sobbed, “where does that leave me? I thought you loved-— No, I won’t. I won’t get over it. I won’t! I won’t! I won’t! . . . Bill, don’t hang— Bill? Bill!” Slowly, Ruby replaced the phone on its cradle. Good-bye, Bill. She thought the words without speaking them aloud. Good-bye.
Ruby burrowed into the pillow and began to cry. She felt as if she’d never stop. She’d been a virgin when she met Bill, He’d said he loved her, and she’d fallen in love with him, and so she’d gone to bed with him. Many times. And each time he’d assured Ruby of his love. And now this! He was through with her. Just like that! It was over. Just like that!
It was more than Ruby could bear. I'll kill myself! she thought. The idea brought her up short. It frightened her. She’d never even considered such a possibility before. Slowly, she accustomed herself to the thought.
Suicide! Well, why not? What had she left to live for without Bill? He didn’t love her. He’d never loved her. He’d simply used her, violated her body, taken advantage of her foolish innocence, and now deserted her. But she loved him! She loved him so much! She couldn’t go on without him. She couldn’t. She’d rather die!
Ruby knew then that she’d accepted the idea. Suicide! Yes! It was decided. Ruby would kill herself!
But how? All that remained was to decide how. Slowly, Ruby rose from the bed and strode over to the window. She looked out and down the facade of the Marlowe Hotel. Five floors. A long way to the street. A long way down. The people below looked so small. Like ants. How would it feel to jump? What would it be like when she hit the pavement?
But suppose she hit someone below? Some innocent person. Maybe even a child. A child . . . The impact could kill a child. No, Ruby decided, she wouldn't jump. She would kill herself, yes, but she wouldn’t jeopardize some innocent life to do it. She’d choose another way.
Bill! She thought of him again and the tears flowed, blurring her vision. Ruby went over to her dresser, opened the drawer and took out a nail file. Was it sharp enough? She guessed it was. Now, all she had to do was hold it to her heart and fall on top of it.
Ruby pressed the point against her breast. She could just barely feel it through the material of her nightie. Impatiently, she pulled off the nightie and pressed the sharp metal against the bare flesh of her left breast. Was that the right spot? Ruby wasn’t sure. She remembered reading somewhere that the heart really wasn’t on the left side of the chest, but in the center. She shifted the blade and pressed it up against her diaphragm until she felt it nick the flesh. Then she removed the blade and searched the flesh there with her fingertips until she was sure she could feel a faint heartbeat. That was the spot! That pulse! Ruby took the nail file in both hands and pressed the point to the spot upon which she’d decided.
She stood poised in the center of the floor for a moment. Then she pushed hard and forced herself to fall forward. But the blade skidded off her ribcage, gashing the cleft between her breasts, but doing little more damage than that.
Ruby picked herself up off the floor and surveyed the scratch between her breasts in the mirror. Dully, she thought to herself that she really should put something on it before it became infected. She went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet.
This is ridiculous! She slammed the bottle of iodine back on the shelf. If I’m going to kill myself, then what am I worrying about infection for? But do I really want to kill myself? Oh, Bill! Tears blotted out her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Yes, I do! I want to die! And the sooner the better!
Through her tears, Ruby saw the bottle of sleeping tablets on the shelf in the open medicine cabinet. Of course! Why didn't I think of that before? Quick and pain- less! Oh, Bill! Tears blinded her again as she groped for the bottle. Impatiently, she grabbed it and shook out the pills. About fifteen of them. That should be enough. Ruby poured a tumbler of water and began washing the pills down her throat. When they were all swallowed, she went inside and lay back down on the bed, waiting to die. In just a little while now, she told herself, it will be all over!
But that’s where Ruby was wrong. In just a little while, what happened was that it all began. A sharp cramp. Then another. And a third that sent Ruby hurtling toward the bathroom as if she’d been fired by a jet cannon.
She just made it. And as she sat, from the corner of her eye, she could see the bottle of sleeping pills still perched on the shelf of the open medicine cabinet. She looked at the empty bottle on the washstand. The label told her that the pills it had contained had been laxative. In her crying over Bill, she’d grabbed up the wrong bottle. She’d taken fifteen laxative pills. And now the pills were beginning to work. Oh, how they were working!
It was early afternoon before Ruby dared to leave the bathroom. She was weak and trembling, but more than ever determined to end it all. The interlude seemed to sum up her life. The agony she’d gone through—that was all there was. So why not end it now?
But there still remained the question of how to accomplish that end. Ruby thought about it while she got dressed. But she still hadn’t answered the question when she finished. Aimlessly, she left her room and wandered out into the street, still searching for the answer.
She drifted down the block from the Marlowe Hotel, still thinking of the treacherous Bill, her eyes still clouding with tears. A middle-aged woman approached her and stopped directly in front of her, blocking her path. “Is there anything wrong, my dear?” she asked solicitously. “Can I help you?”
“No,” Ruby replied, embarrassed. “I'm all right.” She turned away from the woman, gazed into a storefront, and rubbed the tears from her eyes.”
The woman looked at her a moment, shrugged, and continued walking.
Ruby found herself looking into the window of a pawnshop. Slowly, her eyes focussed on the contents of the window. They came to rest on a large, pearl-handled revolver. Ruby thought about it a moment and then entered the shop.
“Can I help you?” The man behind the counter was young, clean-shaven, neatly dressed, not at all bad-looking. His eyes approved of Ruby. More. They were impressed and interested.
“That gun in the window. Is it--? Is it for sale?”
“Yes. But I’m afraid you have to have a pistol permit to buy it. Do you have a permit?”
“Yes,” Ruby lied. “Yes, I have a permit. But I don’t have it with me.”
“You’ll have to get it and show it to me before I can sell you the gun. I’m sorry.” He looked as if he meant it. “But that’s the law.”
“Oh, of course. I see. Yes. That’s no problem. I’ll just go home and get it and bring it in.”
“That will be fine.” Reluctant to see her go, the young man added his next words quickly. “If you’d like to look at it now, I guess that would be okay. I can get it out of the window for you.”
“If it’s not too much trouble—”
“No trouble at all,” the young man assured her. He opened the window showcase from the inside and leaned over to pull out the gun. “Here we are.” He handed it to Ruby.
“Is it loaded?” she asked, staring at the revolver lying in the palm of her hand.