strain. Goodness knows I wouldn’t have been surprised if Ruby’s blood work revealed some sort of Amazonian lineage.
We left Dr. Lee’s office with that clichéd extra kick in our step. Ruby, smiling in a way I hadn’t seen in eons, was light on her feet and quick with a laugh. I felt extra alive and fully aware of our good fortune. Grateful, that was the best word to describe how we were both feeling at that moment. We were so incredibly grateful for everything, absolutely giddy with euphoria. For a brief flash we weren’t weighed down by the guilt of what we’d done, the crime we’d committed to get to this point. Rather, we were elated. I kept thinking about what Dr. Lee had said.
Our plan of action is working. . . . Nodes are definitely responding to the drug.
My heart filled with hope and joy, and I thought back to the day I first developed feelings for Ruby. It wasn’t love at first sight for me, more like smitten at ninth sight, because it was on the ninth day of our college history class together that—in a blink—I became spell-bound by Ruby’s dazzling smile. Everything about that moment is frozen in my memory: the way her strawberry blond hair draped like a fine silk cloth over her shoulder, the green sweater she wore that made her eyes sparkle, the freckles that skirted across her cheeks. I’m probably one of the few people in the world for whom the Peloponnesian War evokes lustful thoughts.
I was sitting behind Ruby, yes, listening to the lecture, yes, taking notes, when she turned around to ask me a question. I had noticed her the first day of class, of course, but I’d never had her smile at me before. I got lost in that smile, forgot all about the Peloponnesians and their bloody conflict. When she smiled at me, the only thing I wanted to learn more about was Ruby Dawes.
After class I asked her out on a date, pizza at Captain Nemo’s in Kenmore Square, and she promptly agreed. Over cheese slices we talked about school, my passion for climbing, and her love of the outdoors. The subject of parents came up, and so we bonded over having both lost our fathers. It wasn’t a heavy conversation, more like we’d been friends for a long time and there was comfort in rehashing our realities.
She knew a lot about music. I credit her with introducing me to some old school bands: the Pixies, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Guided by Voices, and Jane’s Addiction. She considered herself alternative on the inside, because the way she dressed, sporty casual, didn’t fit the image of a brooding, darkly dressed, cutting-edge music aficionado.
We left Nemo’s and went back to my apartment, which at the time I shared with two Italian exchange students, who were trying—sadly, without much success—to master my native tongue. We hung out in my bedroom for a while, talking about things people who are attracted to each other talk about, which amounted to just about everything except the one thing we both wanted to do, which was to kiss. When our lips finally touched, I had a pillow between us. I don’t know how that pillow got there, but I decided to keep it there, as a barrier to prevent me from trying to push things too far too fast. It was Ruby who pulled that pillow away.
“It’s okay, John,” she said between our intensifying kisses. “I want you to touch me.”
We didn’t make love that night, or even that month. What we did was get to know each other better. She became my best friend, a soul mate. Our attachment was instantaneous and never wavered. I remember when I first told Ruby that I loved her. It was a spring afternoon, just like the one we stepped into from Dr. Anna Lee’s air-conditioned offices.
“What should we do to celebrate the good news?” I asked Ruby as we strolled down Harvard Avenue.
“I vote for a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a DVR marathon of Ellen,” Ruby said.
It was a little slap of reality. Our combined elation didn’t mean that Ruby’s stamina had improved. Thanks to Verbilifide, Ruby’s stamina had all the staying power of an ice cube in the desert.
“Hot fudge?” I asked.
“With rainbow sprinkles,” Ruby said.
“Done deal,” I said.
“What I really want is a kiss,” Ruby said.
I obliged, with much tenderness.
“I love you, John.”
“I love you, too.”
We both breathed in