The Ineffable Ruth Rhodes

44 tuwo

ruth

"Ruth, let him try the tuwo," Ruth's father said. She peered from him to the bowl of tuwo in the kitchen, raising a brow. He gave her a quick look and she scowled to herself, getting up.

"Sure. Coming."

She got up quickly, wanting to hurry before they said something in her absence.

She rounded the kitchen door with her bowl just as their voices picked up.

"— um, no sir. I don't plan to have childre—"

"I'm back," she said, her voice coming out louder than intended as she dropped the plates on the table. She looked at her father for a long second, then her mother, then back to her love. He was smiling at her. She smiled too.

"This is Tuwo Shinkafa," Ruth said, and she used a spoon to put the ball of rice on his plate. She took another spoon and gave him two scoops of the bean soup, pausing before adding meat. "It's like... rice balls, with bean soup. It's very good. Turkey or beef?"

His eyes widened, "Wah, it reminds me of a Japanese dish my mom always makes." He smiled at her again. "Either or is fine, thank you."

She picked turkey and placed it gently on his plate.

She tried not to watch his expression as he tried the tuwo shinkafa, picking at hers.

He took a forkful in, chewing for a moment. Then his eyes lit up.

"This is amazing." He said, and both her parents smiled. That was what, the tenth time? Ruth was shocked. "My mother would love this."

"Not your father?"

Ruth's heart dropped.

But Vincent only smiled. "He never liked spicy food."

It was like he passed a test. Her parents nodded, and her mom spoke up. "Never trust a man who can't take his spice."

Vincent laughed. "You can say that again."

---

"I'll drop you off," Ruth whispered to him, and he nodded. "Gimme a sec."

She strode back to the living room where her parents were already digesting their food with tea while watching the television.

"So?" she asked, her voice low so Vincent wouldn't hear. "Do you like him?"

Her mother watched the news for a second longer, then turned to her daughter. "You should bring him back next time for pepper soup."

"Do you plan on marrying him?" her father asked, because of course he did.

Her mother gave him an incredulous look. "Chineke me o. Na one of my own children de date people they no wan' marry just for fun. In this house? See me see wahala."

Ruth sighed deeply at her mother's pidgin, heart full. She was so happy.

Her parents liked him.

"Thank you," she said, and her mom frowned with a familiar twinkle in her eye. "I'm coming."

Ruth made way to drop Vincent at home, feeling so full but also empty. Because while she was driving Vincent home, he mentioned that he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could before she left. And she was reminded that in a couple months, they wouldn't be able to even do that.

In a couple months, they'd be nothing but distant and mellow memories to each other. And the whole drive home, she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Fifteen minutes later, Ruth returned home, feeling sick despite the night going well.

Her father noticed it first. He always had.

"Did something happen?" he asked, brows furrowing. "Already? Did he do something?"

Then it all came tumbling out.

"I really don't know if this is the right thing to do..." Ruth trailed off, sitting on the couch to the left of her parents. Her mother looked at her briefly, before fixing her attention on the T.V. again.

It was much easier before she'd confessed. When she was throwing caution to the wind. Because then, it would've been a Remy all over again. They never would've dated, they would've been lovers who didn't know how to love. But now that she had him? She could actually lose him.

She was actually going to lose him. It was inevitable.

And it was her fault.

"What?" her mom asked distractedly.

"What's even the point of this?" she asked, looking between them. "In five months I'm never seeing him again."

"Calm down," her father said, his words of endearment.

"I'm never gonna see him again," Ruth said, and her voice grew clogged. She was going to cry. She wanted Northwestern— she wanted journalism more than anything. But maybe she wanted Vincent even more.

Her mother looked at her father, blinking. "Shebi she can see him again after she finishes her university."

"Ruth," her father said gently, although his expression showed his lack of ability to comfort crying women. "The world isn't that big a place. You can see him after you come back, can't you?"

"Abi," her mother agreed.

Ruth shook her head. Unrealistic. It was unrealistic.

"We're your parents," her mother said finally. "Trust us. You'll see him again."

Her parents' words brought her calmness.

It was fine, Ruth thought. Her parents were right. They'd run into each other again, right?

She told herself that over and over again.

But she still cried as she went to bed.

She cried and cried, until she felt like she was going to throw up. 

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