Chapter Twenty-Three
Ruby
The new era begins.
Except “era” sounds long. I’d rather this be a phase. Or a stage?
The new stage begins. There is sourdough. Days that are too long now at the library. A couple of dumb dates. One with a guy named Kirby who sells Kirby vacuums. Another with an electrician who kept making jokes about sparks. Too bad we had none.
Sami’s Grandma Letty comes to town and we all go thrifting, looking for outfits for Eeyore’s Birthday Party. Grandma Letty has decided this is the year she’s going. We amass a pile of tie-dye, sequins, feathery things, and faux fur.
“If we can’t turn these into outfits, I’ll use them for my shows,” Sami jokes when we haul it all out to the car.
That helps the first week pass. Nothing makes work better. It’s not that my job is bad. It’s that I’ve never done it without Charlie, and it’s not as good without him.
The second week, I get a text before the library opens Monday morning.
Hey, Ruby Tuesday.
Greetings, Charlie Bucket.
I clutch my phone to my heart, so happy for this grain of normalcy. That’s it for the day, but it’s an eight percent improvement over a no-Charlie day.
Tuesday, he texts a picture of Dune shelved in the geography section captioned, Some things are the same everywhere.
Wednesday it’s a picture of some flashy sneakers he sells for almost $700 along with a picture of a page from a picture book of The Emperor’s New Clothes.
He’s photoshopped the sneakers onto the emperor’s feet as he parades naked into the throne room.
I only respond, , and I match his tone, which stays light.
On Thursday, he texts a list titled “Top three scenes about lunch, ranked,” listing When Harry Met Sally, Mean Girls, and The Big Sick.
I rewatch The Big Sick to remind myself of the scene, frustrated that I can’t rewatch it with Charlie, and also makes me argue with him about his rankings.
The lunch scene in The Big Sick is excellent but not iconic
Top three scenes about lunch
When Harry Met Sally, The Breakfast Club, Mean Girls in that order
I also try to turn my frustration with Charlie into patience. Being mad I can’t watch a movie with him is about what I need, not what he needs. Or so I tell myself often enough to half believe it.
The week also includes a date with a chef, which is fine, but not fine enough for me to agree to a second, and a date with a chiropractor which is not fine but not a disaster. Just less entertaining than a single text from Charlie. Most things are.
As week three of Charlie’s temporary assignment starts, the girls work hard to distract me with plans for Eeyore’s Birthday Party on Saturday. I refuse to go on any dates that week, pleading that I need a break.
Bad idea. More thinking time means I think more about Charlie, and I think my mom is right. I’d let him occupy a boyfriend-shaped space in my life. That’s a form of use. Using him. Even if it was unintentional. It makes me feel small.
For the first time in months, I feel alone. No, lonely. Adrift, even. But I don’t reach out to Charlie. I answer all his texts, but I’m determined to be an equal friend and not turn him into an imitation boyfriend. It means letting him decide the terms of our friendship right now.
It’s hard. So many times a day, there are moments I want to share with him.
When Mrs. Davenport strikes again and an irritated patron brings me a magazine with a car-shaped hole in the middle of their article.
When I find a pristine copy of El deseo de mi corazón, a middle grade book about a girl who wants to be a ballerina, in the donations.
When I go to our favorite Chinese takeout place and my fortune says, “There will be weather tomorrow.”
It’s not only work stuff. I read about a new Brazilian restaurant I want to try, and I wish I could call Charlie to go, even though Madison loves trying new food too.
We catch one of Sami’s sets one night—not at the club where Mike works.
It’s me, Ava, Madison, and their boyfriends.
It’s fun. But it’s not me and them plus their boyfriends; it’s me plus them and their boyfriends.
I realize that it was like this when I was with Niles. He wouldn’t have come out for their shows, but I never felt alone because Charlie was there, giving me piggybacks when I couldn’t see over the growing Pixie Luna crowds.
I miss that. Having my arms around his neck, resting against his back.
Charlie’s body is so familiar to me. Have I missed why?
He says his feelings for me were always a thing for him.
It makes me wonder . . . How can I not have once missed my physical connection with Niles, not even right after we broke up, but miss it with Charlie from the second I left him in the Treehouse?
Did I not miss it with Niles because I had Charlie? Or is this something different?
I have a nearly overwhelming urge to call him or march into the main branch and holler, “Get over this right now, Charlie Bucket!” because the questions exhaust me.
Friday, I get a text that eases the misery for the first time since the Treehouse.
Eeyore’s Birthday Party tomorrow
Yes
You going?
Yes. Grandma Letty wants to go
Is Grandma Letty ready for peak Austin?
Wrong question
Is Austin ready for peak Grandma Letty?
There you go
Grandma Letty abides
I smile at his Big Lebowski reference, but my heart is beating fast. This is the first thing like a conversation we’ve had since he went to Main. Is this a baby step toward normal?
You good if I crash?
Yes
I answer so fast I’m not sure the thought even fully forms before I press send. It is a baby step!
We work out a time and place to meet, and when I set my phone down, I snatch the box at the foot of my bed and pull out my costume, finally excited about something after these three long weeks without Charlie.
Charlie. I’m excited about Charlie.