Both of Ruth’s hands are perfectly placed on the wheel and her eyes dart across the road, constantly surveying her surroundings. It must be exhausting to be so responsible. “What’s the hurry anyway? Today’s your off day, isn’t it?”
“You’re going, like, eight miles an hour. I can bike faster than that.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“I want to get home so I can call Grace.”
“Ahhhh,” she says. “Still pining for summer love?”
“Come on. Don’t give me shit about this.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“You’ve never even really been in a relationship,” I tell her. “Someday you’ll see how much love can suck, and you’ll feel like crap for giving me a hard time.”
She shakes her head. “Doubt it. And I’ve avoided getting involved with anyone for good reasons.”
“Yeah, like what?” I ask.
We reach the end of the school zone, and she hits the gas so hard her tires squeal. I can see that this conversation is pushing Ruth to the edge of her comfort zone. She’ll gladly talk about her future or Saul or their rocky relationship with their parents, but love? Not on her agenda. “Well, first off,” she says, “my options here are limited.”
“I’m hurt,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Secondly, I have enough to worry about. I don’t want anything to distract me from my goals. I’m not getting caught up with someone who might expect me to stay here.”
Someone like me or Saul or even Hattie? We will probably live and die here. I tell myself not to take it personally, but the idea that life here—my life—isn’t good enough for her still bruises.
We pull up to my house as my dad is unlocking the front door. Today was his early shift. His blue pants are covered in permanent stains, and his freckled arms are slick with sweat.
“Hey, Mr. Leroux!” calls Ruth.
Ruth has a little soft spot for my dad. Maybe because he’s pretty much the opposite of her parents.
He turns. “Oh, hey there, girls. Ruth, I guess Saul trusts you quite a bit to let you drive that thing around?”
She smiles. “He’s off with some new guy.”
Dad nods knowingly. “No greater distraction than love.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it love,” she comments drily.
Dad winks at her and ducks through the door.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just—maybe it isn’t the craziest thing to think Grace and I could figure it out.” I shake my head. “I’m not stupid, though. I know she’s not moving here or something, butour options here are limited,” I say, mimicking her.
She scoffs at that. “That’s not what I meant.”
I sigh. “I know, I know. And hey, we always have Vermont.”
A small laugh bubbles up from her chest. “There’s always that.” She reaches behind me and pulls a paper bag from the backseat. “Give these to Hattie. They’re prenatal vitamins. Has she been going to regular doctor visits?”
I stuff the bag into my backpack. “I guess. I don’t know?”
“You should know,” she says.
“Okay, fine, I’ll ask her about it.”
“I don’t want to be pushy or anything, but she, like, is growing a living thing in her body, and that requires medical attention.”
