Page 13 of Bluebell Tides

“Maybe we should take you to a mental institution,” Ruth said. “I can drive you, if you want.”

Quentin spread his hand across her cheek and bent down to kiss her. Ruth’s stomach was filled with warmth. She couldn’t believe that this was the same man she’d met at the restaurant all those months ago. She felt like she was getting away with something.

A part of her ached with the understanding that one day, probably soon, Quentin would meet someone else. He’d have to marry another wealthy girl and move on with his life. But Ruth knew none of that would change the fact that she would have a future Yale degree. Because of Quentin, and as long as she didn’t mess anything up academically, she was set up for life. It was hard to believe.

The girls from her dorm watched in amazement as she prepared to leave the party with Quentin Caldweck. They’d thought they were four girls, just starting at Yale. They hadn’t imagined that one of them was already Quentin Caldweck’s girlfriend.

Over the next few days, Dina, Reese, and Kelly demanded as many details as Ruth was willing to give. Although she left out details of where she was from and how broke she generally was, she spoke about Quentin’s sailboat, the Nantucket parties they’d attended, and how enormous his parents’ Nantucket house was.

“What are his parents like?” Dina asked, eyes wide. “I’ve heard they’re very cold.”

Ruth had heard that as well. “They’re fine, if you know how to deal with them,” she lied.

The truth was, of course, that Quentin had never introduced Ruth to his parents, not in all the months they’d dated back in Nantucket. His father had left the island frequently to tend to matters back in the city, and his mother had an active social calendar of tennis lessons, wine nights, and so on. But the reason Quentin hadn’t introduced Ruth was clear: she knew his parents wouldn’t approve of her. The fact that they’d gone out of their way to secure Ruth a position at Yale was, in that way, mind-boggling. Maybe they saw it as their good deed of the year? A bit of charity?

It was no surprise to Ruth how much she fell in love with her studies. All day, every day, she read books, analyzed books, wrote papers about books, and then dreamed up stories of her own. She attended her professors’ office hours, had arguments with brilliant professors who made her think differently about the world around her, and was soon given even more tasks—tasks that would set her up for a bright future in grad school, if she wanted that. She was told that she could do anything in the world of writing and thinking.

“You can be a professor,” one professor said.

“You can be a writer,” another said.

“You can be a brilliant editor at a publishing house,” another offered.

But Ruth was still in her freshman year at Yale, and everything was still possible. Everything was still in front of her.

Her relationship with Quentin deepened, growing more romantic and complex. Frequently, Quentin bailed on his “real” Yale friends to spend time with Ruth, either in her dorm room, at the library, or at one of their many favorite restaurants. Ruth was pleased that Quentin could keep up with her on most subjects, and they spent hours talking about books and ideas. Sometimes she allowed herself to fantasize about spending their entire lives talking like this. But mostly, she knew to put those dreams to bed.

Quentin’s friends were not entirely pleased about Ruth’s appearance at Yale, of course. The few friends she’d met on Nantucket over the summer were confused to see her, as they’d assumed they’d left her behind in that other life. The fact that Quentin was clearly in love with her didn’t sit well with them either.

Ruth had been right, in that Quentin had had a Yale-based girlfriend last year. That girl—CeeCee—had gone to France with her wealthy family over the summer and assumed that she and Quentin would proceed with their relationship as soon as they returned to Yale. That proved not to be so. Unfortunately for Ruth, CeeCee became a sudden and terrible enemy, frequently making up rumors about her and being snide to her face.

Ruth had never been popular, and she’d encountered people like CeeCee her entire life. But that didn’t mean that what CeeCee said didn’t sting.

Once, Ruth encountered CeeCee at office hours for one of her professors. She hadn’t known they were taking the same class and with the same professor—just at different times of the week. Ruth said hello before CeeCee did, catching CeeCee off guard with her friendliness. The professor was charmed. “I didn’t realize my two most brilliant students knew each other!” he said, smiling through his white beard.

Over the next two hours, CeeCee and Ruth tore through a series of arguments and discussions with the zeal of two professional intellectuals. They hardly gave the professor a chance to speak. At times, Ruth guessed the professor knew there was more to this fight than theory. But she sensed he was having too much fun listening to stop them.

When they left the professor’s office, CeeCee sniffed at her and said, “Good talk.”

“You too,” Ruth said. She felt respect beaming off the woman.

CeeCee licked her perfect lips, then said, “Good luck with the Caldwecks. I don’t mean that sarcastically. I really mean…” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Don’t let them make you feel small. You’re clearly not.” With that, CeeCee turned and walked away from Ruth, leaving her mystified.

8

Fall Semester 2002

Over the following weeks, Ruth struggled to get CeeCee's words out of her mind. It haunted her, echoing in her ears long after her roommate fell asleep. It took ages for Ruth to figure out what, specifically, about it bothered her so much. It was that she knew she would never meet Quentin’s family, not the way CeeCee had, and this fact was beginning to break her heart. After all, she was deeply, deeply in love with him at this point. Of course, she never mentioned this fear to Quentin.

On Halloween night, Ruth and Quentin were out on the streets, holding hands and watching other Yale revelers, many of them dressed in costumes and already blurry with alcohol. Ruth was still sober, saving herself for a party she and Quentin planned to attend later. But Quentin was boisterous and laughing, urging Ruth to go into a little bar at the end of the block for a warm-up drink. Although Ruth was tough, she didn’t like to say no to a little bit of fun with Quentin. They slipped into the little dive and sat at the bar, gazing into each other’s eyes. Quentin ordered them two beers, and the bartender didn’t card them. Maybe he knew who Quentin’s family was, or maybe he didn’t care.

“What are you going to dress up as later?” Quentin asked her.

Ruth laughed. “I haven’t thought about it. I’ve never dressed up for Halloween.”

Quentin was taken aback. “You’re kidding me. Not even when you were younger?”

Ruth didn’t always love conversations about her past. She didn’t like how they seemed to draw a thicker and thicker divide between Ruth’s existence and Quentin’s. But she said, “There was too much to do. Too many little kids underfoot. Halloween felt like just another day.”