The Long Fall Ch. 02

*****

Ruth is carrying two brown paper bags of groceries. It would be far easier for her if she'd use plastic bags. Her keys dangle from her fingers, and I think she may drop them because her attention is so much on the stairs, and on juggling the bags, that she doesn't even notice me until she's a couple of steps past the landing.

"What's wrong, John? What happened?"

"Nothing, Ruth. Nothing's wrong. Everything's okay."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you."

She stops. Except for her eyes, Ruth does not move a muscle. She seems terrified. "Why?"

"Because..." I'm not sure how to put it. "Because I need more than a friend. I need you. I want us to try to be a family again."

But Ruth begins shaking her head before I'm even finished. Then, finally:

"No!"

What's happening? She begins rambling, crying, babbling. She shakes her head the entire time she's talking, a 'no' with each shake, like some metronome. "No! No! No! You don't get to do this! Oh God, no!"

I don't understand. Ruth swings her arms back and forth with every "no," and on the last one she heaves both grocery bags to the walkway. Glass shatters, and there are crashes, and tearing sounds, and cans banging around. Milk, and some red liquid, and egg yolk spatter over the walkway. Cans roll everywhere.

"You can't do this!" Stop screaming Ruth! They'll think I'm attacking you. She runs her hands, both of them, through her hair and over her face, and she's crying, not just little bitter tears but great, gulping sobs. "You can't!" I'm trying to talk. "You can't!" She takes one, two aimless steps and her foot comes down on a can and she stumbles to the wall. She almost falls. "Don't toy with me! Don't!"

I thought she'd be excited. I thought it would make her happy. I had these visions of being with her, all ecstasy and trumpets and choruses of angels, at least that's how it felt, though what it looked like was just we two standing nowhere special, nuzzling each other. There were no details of scene, no place, no objects that stood out, not even our children. I should feel guilty. It was sappy on the face of it, but I thought she wanted to come back.

"Ruth..."

"No! You don't get to wait...oh God...until...I'm resigned to being alone and then come waltzing back into my life!" She's wiping her face with her hands, over and over. "You can't do that! It's not fair!"

A pity, you say, this kind of irony, and I agree, because now I know that, however much I want to despise her, I can't not love Ruth, or not want her, or not miss her. I'm so tired of life as a locked room, and I just can't stand to punish us with aloneness any more. It doesn't work at all. A pity, but it's the wrong time to give in to pity. I wade through the mess on the walkway. Egg yolks, flour, milk, red liquid, cans. Everything but the cans sticks to me. The bags cling to my feet. "Ruth. Listen."

She puts her hands against my chest and won't let me get close. She's still crying.

"What happens when you change your mind again?"

"That won't happen. Never. Never." I take her hands. "Never. It can't happen. I won't let it. We'll go to counseling together. As long as it takes. Come home."

At that she grabs my lapels and pulls her face to my chest. I hold her and she shudders and buries her face in the front of my shirt. I reach all the way around her. With her crying and her faced pressed into me, I can hardly make out what she's saying.

"You can't ever change your mind. Please don't. I'll die. I will."

We're not in a romance. We aren't Prince Charming and Aurora. There are no trumpets or angels, and neither of us is waltzing anywhere. We're two ordinary people, holding each other on the trash-covered walkway of a nondescript apartment building, with the mess of shattered groceries all over our feet, and I can't tell you how lucky I feel.

Ruth has finally gotten control of herself. She wipes her face on my shirt again. She looks up. The storm is passing. She wipes her face with both hands yet again, and dries them on her slacks. "I knew I'd lost you for good, that I ruined everything. I couldn't make it better. I'm so sorry." She takes my face in her hands. Even damp, they're hers. "I've missed you so much."

I pull away, to be able to look her in the face better, but she pulls me close. "Let me hold you. I just want to hold you."

Then, finally, we're holding each other, our faces together, nuzzling, kissing, murmuring, and I don't want it to end. Was it ever like this? It's been so long. I have an idle thought that we should clean the walkway.

*****

No the family hasn't died. Not exactly, and not completely. I still don't know where it is going. I hope our little family unit will heal. I think it will. Ruth once learned to trust me again. I think I trust her, but who knows what's growing in their cellars? I don't know, but I'm trying. I'm more than trying. I'm committed to our being together, so I think we'll be okay. Even not knowing the last act, I'm happy she's here. I'm more than happy. At some point, I swear I heard them, the angels, the trumpets, the whole symphony.

But what if I found she'd done it again? What if I caught her? A while ago she gave me one of those intimate looks, and I remembered her giving it to Bill and saw her hand caress his cheek. What if ... stop it! I don't want to have those thoughts, and I don't need them! They're what's lurking in my dark corners. Paranoid fears, I banish thee! There. That should work for now. We're together. We're going to rebuild a life, a stick at a time.

I don't know about the larger family.

Ruth is asleep. I keep my hand on her, touching her here and there. Yes, she's really here. She's even naked. We made love and she drifted off right afterward, during afterglow. It was healing sex. We were each trying to make it special for the other, and it worked better for her than for me.

"Ruth?" I brush her shoulder.

"Huh?"

"You should get your nightgown on. We may have visitors later."

"Oh. Okay, honey."

"And I have a couple of things on my mind."

"Uh-huh? Wait." She turns on her bed light and gets up on an elbow. "What is it?" She's rubbing her eyes.

"I need to make some calls tomorrow. To family members."

"Mm-hmm." She puts a hand on my arm. "Did you think I wouldn't agree?"

"That includes Bill."

"I'm glad. I didn't know how to bring him up."

"It's about time we became brothers again."

There's a pause. "Dr. Parker says I should avoid seeing him. Ever."

"We'll deal with that. There has to be another way."

"Then I'll talk with him too. So we can become whole again."

"I'm glad." We kiss. "And also Jolene. I need to tell her we're back together."

This time Ruth is quiet. Finally, "I don't think I can talk to her...just yet."

"I know. But I have to. I owe her that much. And who knows? If it worked out for us...?"

We kiss again. Those lips. I can't explain the wonder of them. Since Ruth is still naked her breasts are hanging there right in front of me, too, and of course I love how soft that skin is. And the skin of her stomach. And her sweet, dark hair, and her thighs, and it's time to make love again. She caresses me back, the way she knows I like it, and I imagine her caressing my brother. It's such a strong image I have to lie still for a moment and breathe through my mouth until it passes. I hope she can't tell.

So, no, the family's not healed, and there's work ahead of us. We'll begin to deal with it tomorrow. I'm hopeful.