was to Finland—and they were each used to the other disappearing mid-chat. Such was the nature of internet friendship.
Marjaana: Where’d you go? Do you have deadlines n shit?
Ruth: Yeah
Marjaana: …
Marjaana: I’m gonna call you
Ruth: Please don’t call me
Marjaana: AHA! You are hiding something
Ruth: Suck a toe
Marjaana: Tell me.
Ruth stared at the phone. Surely one of the upsides of being an anti-social shut-in was not having people interrogate her about things?
And yet, if it wasn’t her sister, it was Marjaana. If it wasn’t Marjaana, it was…
Evan. Her friend. Her friend who had come over for dinner every day that week and kept his hands completely to himself.
The snot.
Ruth knew that she would regret it, but still, she typed out the words.
Ruth: Maybe you *should* call me.
It took all of five seconds for the video call to come through.
“Jesus,” Marjaana said, blinking rapidly. As always, she was flawlessly made up, and her false lashes waved like exotic, charcoal fans. “Have you done your hair?”
Ruth patted her single braid. “No. I’ve just been remembering to wrap it at night. You know, so it doesn’t frizz.”
Marjaana stared. “Why?”
“I… I’m trying to… grow it?”
“But it’s already long.”
Ruth gave what she hoped was a rueful smile and shrugged. Shrugging was her favourite nonverbal weapon. People usually interpreted it to mean whatever they wanted, which was always convenient.
But Marjaana’s eyes narrowed. “Are you wearing lip gloss?”
“No,” Ruth said with complete honesty, because it was tinted lip balm. Gloss, after all, would get in the way of kissing.
Which was irrelevant, since no kissing had occurred that evening, and clearly never would.
“Are you alright?” Marjaana asked innocently, wrapping a wave of turquoise hair around her tattooed finger. “You’re behaving so strangely. I just can’t think what’s gotten into you, Ruth.” Her eyes widened.
Ruth tried to imagine how that speech would look written down. Where the emphasis would be, what images or emojis or GIFs might accompany it. She decided, after completing the English-to-Internet translation, that Marjaana was being sarcastic.
“Fuck off.”
Marjaana grinned. “Tell me, since I cannot possibly guess. What’s keeping you offline lately? Making you request a phone call?”
People always seemed to do this—be painfully direct. Get to the meat of an issue quickly. Ruth preferred a good half hour to mull things over, to prepare her speech precisely and predict every avenue the conversation might take. To be ready.
But then, Marjaana didn’t judge by weird, unspoken standards that Ruth had no access to. Marjaana took people as they were. So maybe preparation time wasn’t needed.
Ruth said, “My neighbour keeps making me dinner and he’s very attractive and I think that we’re friends.”
Marjaana blinked. “You say that like it’s a problem.”
“He, um…” It would be so much simpler if she could say, He kissed me. But Evan had somehow done both less and more than that. “Earlier this week he… came onto me, I suppose?”
Marjaana’s little nose wrinkled. “And you didn’t want him to?”
“I did want him to. I really fucking did.”
“Ohhhhh.” Marjaana grinned wide. “Still not seeing the problem. Unless you threw up in his mouth. Guys hate that.”
Ruth blinked. “Pardon?”
“Never mind.” Marjaana flapped a be-ringed hand. “Continue.”
“Well…” Ruth slid her braid over her shoulder and coiled the end around her finger. “It was good, but then I panicked a little bit, and I said we should stop, and he stopped. And then he said sorry. And now he’s being all normal and friendly and nice and whatever.”
Marjaana nodded. “Which is a problem, because you want him to be—"
“Normal and friendly and nice, and also on top of me.”
“Then why did you stop him?”
Ruth shrugged helplessly. “Because I remembered what a fucking terrible idea it was, and then I felt like I was choking.”
“Why is it a terrible idea?”
Ruth bit her lower lip, tasted the lip balm, and stopped. “You know why.”
Marjaana really was her best friend, after all. She knew everything.
But she didn’t nod or make some hum of understanding. Instead, blonde eyebrows arched, she said, “I know you had a bad experience in the past, but I don’t think that should affect this. And I don’t think it is. I think it’s something else.”
Ruth frowned. “Something else like what?”
“Tell me,” Marjaana sighed. “What is this neighbour like?”
Well. There was a dangerous question.
“He’s… he’s lovely. I mean, he’s kind, and thoughtful, and he lets me think, and he always has something funny to say. I don’t know. I just like talking to him.”