Chapter Twenty-Seven
Charlie
When Ruby texts me Tuesday morning, it catches me by surprise. She answers every time I text, but she hasn’t initiated any texts since she apologized. It’s her way of giving me space, but giving people space isn’t her nature, and I’m sure it’s been killing her. Guess she’s fed up with waiting.
The date bet is ending
I killed it
Punched it in its stupid nose and drowned it
Sounds like assault
A salty Ruby? YES
YOU COME IN MY HOUSE AND PUN?
They negotiated for one last shot each.
Then I’m free.
I put my phone down on my kitchen counter without asking any follow-up questions. I’m not always sure what Ruby news will make me miserable.
Last night is a perfect example. I watched the game at Oliver’s house, wondering if Ruby was home at the other end of the complex.
But I hadn’t wanted to know for sure, because if she was there, I couldn't have resisted dropping by to say hi, and if she wasn’t there, I’d make myself miserable wondering where she was.
I don’t have to ask myself how I feel about her giving up dating. Like a boulder got rolled off my chest, that’s how. We could hang out again without her having to edit how much of her life she shares, like these dates. So why doesn’t it feel like the answer to anything?
I’ve been taking this post-confession transition a day at a time. A-day-at-a-time has turned into thirty, and Ruby is still waiting for me to figure out what our friendship will be.
Do I have any idea of how to be around Ruby without wanting her like a bee wants nectar? No. Not a clue. But my life is better for having our shared friends in it, and it’s better for having her in it. She’s worth figuring this out for.
Not sure there’s a right way to start, so I just .
. . start. We’ve done a month of surface-level texting, so I go past that.
I tell her the thing that I’ve been thinking about more and more as I spend time around Oliver, hearing about the growth of his company and how much he loves the work he’s doing.
What if I don’t want to be a librarian forever?
Probably a good thing.
If you were a librarian forever, it would mean you’re immortal.
That’s bad?
You might run out of content
Books, shows
I can’t even keep up with everything now
How would I run out?
RUBY
Are there no movies in the future?
I don’t want to be immortal
I already said that’s probably a good thing
What if I don’t want to be a librarian for long?
. . . Doesn’t sound hypothetical . . .
The average American adult has 34 careers before retiring
That’s not true
No, but it’s a lot
. . .
National Labor Board says 12
How many have you had?
2. Need to switch up soon if I want to hit 12
Part of my clarity over the last month has been about what I love about my job. It’s Ruby.
Everything else I just like. I’ve found myself wondering about what I might want to do instead. Not sneakers. But I’ve started to have some ideas. And there’s no one I’d rather talk it over with than Ruby.
Ruby, who hates change, and I just hinted at another huge one. I guess this is where we start testing if we can be friends on equal terms, friends when I’m not focused on being what Ruby needs, but just on being.
It’s a couple of hours before I hear from her, and she jumps right in.
I hate this idea
But if it’s going to be a thing
Do not pick rock star, lawyer, trust fund baby, genius scientist, or software mogul.
I already have one of each
Was thinking more like fireman or astronaut
Why can I easily see you doing both of those?
I smile as I slide my phone in my pocket. This feels like the first normal conversation we’ve had since the Treehouse. It’s still going to take time, but I’m not going to put any pressure on how many days this will take before we can hang out like before.
Almost like before, anyway.
Madison, agent of chaos, calls the next day to speed up my timeline drastically as I’m driving home from work.
Before I can even ask what’s up, she’s half wailing, half cajoling. “I have a massive disaster on my hands, and I need you to bail me out!”
“If I can,” I say. “What do you need?” Specifically, what does she need from me that Oliver or her roommates can’t help her with?
“Tonight is my last chance to set up Ruby, and I know this is awkward, but I can’t do it, and I need you to do it.”
This of all things? I’d take each problematic point in order, but I hear noise in the background, hospital noise, and her voice is tight with stress. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just . . . ugh. Job and life and school and something came up.”
My concern for her eases. “In that case, no, I’m not setting up Ruby with anyone. Come on, Madi.”
“Not like find her a date,” she says. There’s a pause. “Maybe a little like that.”
“Have you suffered any hard hits to the head recently?” I ask.
“No, but I’d very much like to hit some people very hard over the head,” she grumbles. “I can’t believe I’m about to lose my last chance at this bet. Unless . . .” The wheedle is back.
“Mads, seriously? I’m working on being a good friend to Ruby, but there’s zero chance I’m going to start setting her up with dudes.”
“In this case, you’d be facilitating, not finding her dates. I have a feeling you’re not going to want to leave her hanging when I explain the situation.”
I groan.
“Great! Knew you’d want to help. So here’s what happened . . .”