The Ineffable Ruth Rhodes

32 promised

vincent

Vincent watched as Sage threw his mini football at his wall, again and again.

"So," Sage began, catching the ball fluidly, "Are you going to talk about your feelings or are you going to keep watching me throw this football at the wall?"

Vincent looked away. "You should join the football team. You know your way with that thing."

Sage laughed. "Maybe I will. Now—" he sat up finally, black hair disheveled— "What is it?"

"It's about Ruth."

"Really? My God, I thought it was about Charlotte." Vincent gave him a flat stare, and he held his hands up in defense. "My bad, too soon."

Another flat look.

"Too late...?"

Silence.

"Anyway, what about Ruth?"

"I think," he began, "She wants to end things."

The smile slipped off Sage's face. "Oh? Why is that?"

Vincent grabbed the football from his friend and began fiddling it in his hand out of nervousness. "She doesn't want to talk to me, won't look at me. I don't know, it's like she's pulling away."

If there was anything he wanted to be fake out of their relationship, it was her drifting away from him. Plus the timing was just...

"Have you tried talking to her about it?"

"It's..." Not even a real relationship. "Complicated."

"Uncomplicate it," Sage said simply, and went back to tossing the football at the far wall.

Vincent frowned. "How's Sumaiya, by the way?"

Silence, and a pause.

"Do you know what happened?" he asked after a while.

"No," he said. "It's none of my business."

He hummed. "She's dealing with a loss."

"God, I'm sorry," he said. The bags under his eyes made it clear he was doing his best to support her. "How are you both?"

"She's... well, it comes and goes. I'm fine, too. Her parents are doing their best."

Vincent opened his mouth to reply when his phone rang loudly. His eyes widened at the caller ID.

"It's Ruth," he whispered to Sage, putting a finger to his lip. His friend nodded once as he answered.

"Hello?" God her voice. He could listen to it all day, even through the phone.

"Hey, Ruth. What's up?"

"Let's end this."

Vincent's face must've crumbled, because Sage's eyes filled with worry and he leaned in, mouthing what?

"Let's talk about this in per--"

"No," she said, a little quickly. Too quickly. Something was going on. "No. I can't..."

"Why?" he whispered, his voice sounding broken and foreign. He felt sick. "Talk to me."

He didn't realize Sage nod to his door, excusing himself.

"I can't be with you."

"Rule seven," he said.

"I can't stand you, Vincent."

"You don't mean that. I know you don't." By now, he was used to her saying things she didn't mean— but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"Please, just..." her voice was barely a whisper. "Make this easier."

Then a thought came to Vincent's mind.

A crazy and desperate and impossible thought.

It wasn't nice.

It was selfish.

But it was an opening.

"But you promised me," he started. "You promised you'd go to Ale's wedding with me."

"I--"

"You promised me and my family. You said you'd be there."

There was a long pause, and some ruffling, before he heard her sigh heavily. "Okay. You're right."

"Thank you."

"Sure."

The line dropped.