Chapter 35
35
CHUCK
On the way to the beach, the jungle air is thick and heavy, clinging to my skin like a damp towel. Ruby and I are picking our way along a narrow trail, supposedly headed toward some scenic overlook. An endless sea of jungle green feels like it could swallow us whole, surrounding us on all sides and reaching several hundred feet into the air, almost like being in a tunnel.
"Watch your step," Ruby calls over her shoulder. "There's a root?—"
Too late. My foot catches, and I stumble, arms windmilling. I manage to catch myself before face-planting in the muddy trail. My dignity isn't so lucky.
Ruby's trying not to laugh. "You okay there, graceful?"
I straighten up, brushing the dirt from my hands. "Just testing the trail's stability. You're welcome."
She pats her heart. "My hero."
We continue on, the sounds of the jungle surrounding us. Birds I can't name are calling to each other, and something that sounds suspiciously like a monkey chattering is in the distance.
"So," Ruby says, ducking under a low-hanging branch, "I realized I don't really know a whole lot about you, besides the whole hockey star thing. Like, what’s your family like?"
I shrug, following her lead. "Not much to tell. I play hockey, I—ARGH!"
I walk face-first into an enormous spider web, complete with its eight-legged resident sitting right in the middle. I flail wildly, trying to get the sticky strands off my face.
Ruby's full-on laughing now, doubling over as I do my best impression of a man being attacked by invisible ninjas.
"It's not funny!" I sputter, still pawing at my face. "Is it on me? Tell me it's not on me!"
She manages to catch her breath long enough to check me over. "You're clear. No spiders, just an endless web of humiliation."
I glare at her, but it's hard to stay mad when she's looking at me like that, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. See if I protect you from the bugs tonight."
As we start walking again, I realize I want to answer her question. I want to share my story. There's something about her that makes me want to open up, despite my usual instincts to keep things surface-level.
"My parents are loaded." May as well cut to the chase, I figure. "Like, stupid rich. Old money on my mom's side, new money on my dad's."
She’s quiet, letting me continue at my own pace.
"Sounds great, right? Except they were miserable. Are miserable. They fought constantly, screaming matches that would shake the whole house. Mom's a functioning alcoholic, always with a glass of wine in hand. Dad... he worked long hours. Probably to avoid being home."
I risk a glance at Ruby. She's watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"They didn't really know how to be parents, you know? Their solution was to just... buy me stuff. Whatever I wanted, I got. New hockey gear? Done. Car for my sixteenth birthday? No problem. It never ended. Sounds horrible to complain about, I know. Poor little rich boy, right?"
We stop walking. Ruby reaches out, her hand on my arm. The touch is light, but it somehow grounds me.
"It doesn't sound horrible," she says. "It sounds lonely."
Her words hit me like a body check, knocking the air out of my lungs. I've never put it into words before, but she's right. That's exactly what it was. Still is, if I'm honest.
"Yeah," I manage, my voice rough. "I guess it was. Is."
She’s quiet for a moment, her thumb absently tracing circles on my arm. It's oddly comforting.
"You were given everything," she says, "except love."
And just like that, it's too much. The vulnerability, the understanding in her eyes, the gentle touch of her hand, it's all too intimate, too real. I pull away, taking a step back.
"Anyway," I say, forcing a laugh. "That's the thrilling tale of Chuck Newcomb's childhood. Not exactly superhero origin story material, huh?"
Ruby frowns, picking up on my discomfort. "Hey, I didn't mean to?—"
"It's fine," I cut her off, probably more sharply than I intended. "Ancient history, right? Come on, we should keep moving if we want to make it to that overlook.”
I start walking again, maybe faster than necessary. Ruby hurries to catch up, and I can feel her concern.
"Did you know," she says suddenly, her voice a bit too bright, "that there are multiple library classification systems? Most people only know about the Dewey Decimal System, but there's also the Library of Congress Classification, and the Universal Decimal Classification, which is used more in Europe..."
She keeps going, her hands gesticulating wildly as she delves into the intricacies of library organization. It's clear she's babbling, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence with the first thing that comes to mind.
And I find it utterly charming.
Her cheeks are flushed, whether from the humid air or embarrassment, I'm not sure which. Her eyes are bright with a mixture of nervousness and genuine enthusiasm for her subject. A strand of hair has escaped her ponytail, and she absently tucks it behind her ear as she continues her impromptu lecture on the merits of various cataloging methods.
I feel the tension in my shoulders begin to ease. This, I can handle. This flustered, passionate Ruby is a far cry from the woman who was dissecting my childhood trauma just moments ago.
"...and that's why the Colon Classification system, while innovative, never really caught on in North America," she finishes, slightly out of breath.
I can't help it. I burst out laughing.
Ruby blinks, looking startled. "What? What's so funny?"
"Nothing," I say, still chuckling. "It's just... you really are a librarian, aren't you?"
She crosses her arms, trying to look offended, but I can see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," I say, reaching out to gently tug on that escaped strand of hair, "that you're full of surprises, Ruby Brooks."
As she launches into a spirited defense of her profession, I find myself relaxing fully for the first time since we started this conversation. Maybe opening up wasn't such a bad thing after all.
And if it means getting to see this side of Ruby more often? Well, that might be worth braving another giant spider web.