The Ineffable Ruth Rhodes

14 cologne

vincent

Vincent stared at the arm Ruth squeezed and frowned.

He shook his head, pushing whatever thoughts he was having away, and tossed a Ritz cracker into his mouth.

It was only hours later that the pair realized how long they'd spent working. Ruth was reading over the script one last time when she stiffened.

"Vincent?"

"Hmm?"

"What time is it?"

"11:47."

"Frick," Ruth said, again and again. "Oh, I'm in so much trouble."

"Ruth," Vincent said. He liked saying her name, he decided. Her real name. He'd use it as often as possible. "Ruth, listen to me."

She fumbled for her phone disorientedly, clicking it open and typing a text, Vincent assumed, to her parents. Then her phone started ringing, her Always Be My baby ringtone blasting, and she looked mortified.

"Hello?" she said after answering it, "I know. I know, we've been working the entire ti- No!— Okay, sorry for raising my voice at you—" she held the phone away from her ear and counted to five with her lips, "Okay, please listen. I'll try get a ride if I can, I'm sorry for not communicating with you, that was my bad. I'm at my partners house right now." She listened. "I'm not sure, but I'll ask."

"Ruth," Vincent said slowly and quietly. "You can stay over if you want."

Ruth pursed her lips and her eyes found the ceiling. She took a deep breath, and said, "They said I can stay over if it's easier that way... No, he's a boy... It's my... boyfriend." She lowered her voice when she said boyfriend. "God, of course not... I wouldn't be sleeping right beside him on a bed." She met Vincent's eyes. "Do you have a guest room?"

"Errr, we don't have a guest room available, but I could sleep on the ground. If you're comfortable with that, I mean. Obviously."

"He'd sleep on the ground," she said into the phone. She nodded once, as if her parents could see her. Vincent tried not to smile. It was endearing. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, love you, drive safe, and have a nice night at work."

She ended the call and turned to him, and it was like the pair had both realized how awkward it was now.

"Do you, um." Vincent cleared his throat. "Do you need something to sleep in?"

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble," she said quietly.

He strolled over to his drawers, feeling her eyes burn holes into the side of his head. Pulling out a stale brown tee with some graphics and the smallest joggers he had, he handed it to her. She took it and murmured a thank you, and started walking away, almost tripping over air.

She turned back, looking like a deer with wide but sleepy eyes. "Washroom?"

"Down the corridor to the left and the first door on your left."

As soon as she exited, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. Charlotte came to his head unintentionally, like an annoying mosquito that wouldn't leave him alone. He remembered all the times she'd stayed over and the moments they had together, all of which ended up being memories he wasn't sure were real. He wanted to cry. Vincent moved, bringing a new pillow from his closet and replacing the one on his bed as he put the used one on the floor; he repeated this with his blankets. He didn't really want to think about Charlotte anyway, not when he was with someone he was pretending to date. He wasn't a complete brute— he knew how to respect people.

"Hey," Ruth said in the doorway. Almost all thoughts wiped away as he saw her standing there, in his clothes, with hers in her hand. As they weren't that different in height, his clothes weren't too big, but it still looked like an oversized blouse. His sweats were rolled up God knew how many times and it looked like she tied the waist with a hairband. "Thank you for the clothes."

He almost forgot how to speak. He cleared his throat. "Sure."

"Do you use cologne on them?" Ruth asked bluntly. She seemed to regret the words as soon as they left her mouth, because she closed her eyes for a second, then opened them and blinked. "The clothes, I mean. Obviously."

Vincent paused.

"I'm not saying you smell good or anything—" her hands were waving wildly as she talked, "— I'm just saying your clothes smell good in a natural sense..." her eyes found the ceiling again. "It reminds me of soap and shea butter and fabric softener. Although... I can see how it sounds like I said you smell good, so... I'm just going to... stop talking. Now."

Vincent's lips slowly curled, and he said slowly, "I don't wear any cologne, Ruth."

"Right," she said, like she should've known, "Right. So. I'll just go to sleep then." She ambled uncomfortably to the bed, and Vincent went and turned the light off. The lack of noise wasn't exactly awkward per se, it never really was with Ruth, but he still wanted to find something to fill it.

"Sorry for intruding," she said. "I should've kept track of the time."

"No," he said. "It's fine."

The silence was oddly loud, grating against Vincent's ears like a repetitive song he wanted to turn off. He was well aware Ruth was awake although it was silent, and he knew she was aware too— that somehow made it worse. He opened his mouth to fill up the silence with something, anything, when—

"Do you ever miss your dad?" she asked quietly.

He froze and thought about her question, turning so he was parallel to the bed and facing Ruth's direction.

"No," he said. "I never once missed him."

"Not once?"

"Not once. I guess I missed the dad he never was, or what he could've been, though."

She hummed. "What was he like?"

"He was... very mediocre, I think." he blinked, trying to recall times of warmth from his father, times where he thought he had the best father in the world like everyone else did. "He was kind, but he wasn't anything out of the ordinary. I don't know if I would care if for some reason he had to move away. He wasn't really a father... he was more like someone who happened to live with my siblings, my mom and I." He realized he said a lot and closed his eyes once more. "So, yeah."

"... Did you love him?" Her voice seemed closer.

"I think I did. No matter what their parents do, I think everyone has a bit of love for their parents. It's sad almost."

"And the twins? Mel? Your older sister? How did they react?"

"I'm glad the twins weren't as affected as my mother was... He wasn't really one to engage with his children, so it was just like we happened to live with him. My older sister is rarely here so if she did care, no one would've known."

"Ah."

Her voice was right by him it seemed, and Vincent's eyes fluttered open of their own accord.

Ruth was by the edge of the bed, her eyes on him. Their eyes met. "I wish peace and happiness for you and your family," she said, and he knew she said it instead of saying sorry. Vincent didn't realize then, how much her not saying sorry, an empty word with an empty meaning to him, and instead wishing happiness for him meant. Happiness. Vincent had never really thought about happiness.

Neither of them spoke as they stared at each other, he thought it'd go on like that until one of them fell asleep, so he said, "Goodnight Ruth." and shut his eyes.

"Goodnight, Vincent."