AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"She did. And I can't really blame her. This guy was totally built. He must have been twenty-eight and with arms the size of my thighs." Dexter puts both hands up and mimics trying to encircle this guy's massive leg. "He had a tattoo on one bicep that was like a full version of theMona Lisa."
"Wait, he had theMona Lisaon his arm? That's not what I was picturing."
"Yeah, it was an interesting choice, but my point is, that man's arm was a full-sized canvas. At sixteen, you could have maybe fit one of her eyes on my tiny bicep before having to wrap her face around and into my armpit."
Ruby tries not to laugh at this image because she doesn't want to insult Dexter, but she glances into his eyes and sees that he's completely aware of the hilarity of himself as a scrawny, lovelorn sixteen-year-old boy stumbling onto the woman of his dreams holding hands with a fully-grown man. She smothers the urge to laugh until Dexter breaks into a huge grin.
"I'm cool with it. You can laugh," he says, running a hand through his sandy hair. Ruby watches his every move, admiring how self-assured and funny he is. As she's gotten to know Dexter over the past couple of months, she's been increasingly aware of the way he approaches the world. With everything, whether it's her stories about her marriage, or his outlook on life, Dexter is someone who takes everything in with deep intensity. He listens--really listens--to Ruby, to the news, to the waiter telling them the daily specials, to his thoughts inside his own head (she's definitely observed him doing this).
“Well, I’m not laughingatyou,” Ruby clarifies, still hiding her smile behind one hand. “But I do have to ask how this ended up being the best year of your life when, to be honest, it sounds pretty tragic.”
“Oh, well that’s the good part.” Dexter is hunched over his plate, staying close enough to Ruby that they can have this conversation in lowered voices. “Not only did I see Amanda holding hands with this giant Arnold Schwarzenegger imposter, but as he dropped her back off at the milkshake shack, he leaned in and kissed her—like a full-on, tongue down the throat, eyes closed kind of kiss—and he actually picked her up off the ground by holding both of her butt cheeks in his hands.” He mimes a cupping motion with his hands and Ruby’s mouth drops open.
“I’m still not seeing the silver lining of this dark cloud,” she says, shaking her head so that her hair brushes over her shoulders.
Dexter sits back in his chair. “The silver lining is that after picking up the pieces of my absolutely shattered young heart, I realized that I’d already gone through my first traumatic romantic experience. I was determined that it would only go uphill from there. And I also understood that sometimes things are out of your hands and that you just have to accept them as they come.”
“That’s a lot for a sixteen-year-old.” Ruby pushes her plate aside and reaches for her ice water. “But I have to ask, were you able to carry on with that same determination? Did your love life only go uphill from there?”
Dexter snorts. “Of course not! I’m a straight man who loves with his whole heart. Some of the finest people in your tribe—“
“My tribe? As in other women?”
“Precisely. Some of those women have given me a run for my money, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Why is that—that you wouldn’t have it any other way?”
“Because,” Dexter says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world, “then my life would have taken a different path and I wouldn’t be sitting here with you.”
Ruby flushes, but it’s true; she’s well aware that any slight deviation from your path in life takes you on an entirely different journey. “That’s a solid enough reason for me.”
Dexter pays the bill and they stand, leaving their napkins on the table next to their empty glasses and the leather folder with the signed copy of the credit card slip tucked inside.
“Shall we?” Dexter holds out a hand to indicate that Ruby should lead the way.
They walk out onto Broadway and join the fray of humanity as it worms its way through the city streets. There’s a pleasant afternoon breeze, but the sky is so clear and so pristine that Ruby feels like she can look straight up and see forever.
“What would you say to heading to Fort Tryon Park?” Dexter asks, walking with his hands in the pockets of his olive green canvas jacket. He’s wearing a cream colored cable knit sweater under that, with a pair of worn-in blue jeans and brown boots, and Ruby is struck again by how incredibly attractive he is—so much so that she forgets to notice that people turn their heads and point at her as she walks by.
“Sure, I’d love to,” she says, feeling like a giddy girl who just got asked to go for a stroll by the captain of the football team. It’s a strange reversal of reality, as Ruby is by far the most looked at and well-known of the two of them, but when she’s walking with Dexter, she absolutely feels as ifhe’sthe somebody and thatshe’sjust a smitten girl following him around with a goofy grin on her face.
They hop into a taxi with Banks sitting silently in the front seat next to the driver while Ruby and Dexter sit in the back, and end up at the park in under ten minutes. The driver casts sideways glances at Banks the entire time, looking as though he wants to ask questions, but he doesn’t.
Ruby stands on the sidewalk while Dexter pays the driver and then slides out of the backseat and closes the door.
“Ready?” he says, offering her an arm, which she takes. Banks follows them at a slight distance.
It turns out that Fort Tryon Park is home to the Linden Terrace, one of the highest points in Manhattan, and from that particular spot, you can see across the water to the Hudson River Palisades, with its miles and miles of fiery orange and gold foliage blanketing the surrounding cliffs.
Ruby and Dexter wander over the stone paths, passing under old and mossy brick arches with walkways overhead as they talk about their lives, their parents, and the things they like and don’t like. (Ruby: loves sweaters, fireplaces, the smell of the ocean, margaritas with extra salt, and her children; hates: having the flu, when tragic things happen to people, ratatouille, and the creepy ticking of the clock on60 Minutes. Dexter: loves the color orange, watching spy movies, spicy foods, and Iceland; hates: car exhaust in traffic, being stuck on the tarmac inside an airplane, nightmares, and running into people he knew in high school.) As far as Ruby is concerned, it’s all feeling comfortable and cozy and—dare she even think it?—date-likeuntil they find a bench on the banks that overlook the water. They sit next to one another facing the wash of fall colors in the trees on the other side of the Hudson River and are quiet for a moment, basking in the particular feel of the autumn afternoon sun.
“I’d like to ask you about whether you think Jack ever had an affair before Etienne,” Dexter says, breaking the spell of hazy warmth that Ruby has allowed to wrap around her like a blanket.
“Oh,” she says, feeling her stomach plummet like a roller coaster that’s just crested the peak and gone into free-fall. “Right.”
Dexter shifts next to her on the bench and turns his upper body so that he’s looking right at Ruby, but she refuses to look his way. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to drop that right into the middle of what was otherwise a fun and lighthearted conversation. That was my fault.”
“No, no,” Ruby says, catching herself before she agrees. “We’re here to talk about the hard stuff, and I know that. But you can’t blame a girl for wanting to stick to easier topics.”
