He dreams of her that night. Dreams twice of her but only remembers the second. He’s cutting across one of the quads of the school he taught at and hears someone behind him say “Hi.” He doesn’t turn around because he thinks the “hi” was for someone else and he’s late at meeting up with her. The person’s still behind him and says “Hi.” He turns around. It’s Ruth, smiling at him and carrying a large canvas boat bag filled with books. “That was me, before, saying hi,” she says. “How come you didn’t stop?” “I thought it was someone else,” he says, and puts his arm around her and pulls her into him and kisses her on the mouth. “Oops, sorry,” he says. “I thought you were someone else,” and takes his arm away and with his other hand takes the canvas bag from her and holds it. She says “That’s all right what you did with your arm there. Put it back,” and he puts his arm around her again and they walk that way. “The bag’s lighter than I thought it would be.” “That’s because there’s nothing in the books,” she says.
He checks his computer’s inbox about ten times that day, hoping there’d be something from her. Four days after he gets her last email, he emails her. “Hi. See? I’ve adopted the prevalent, or what should we call it — or I call it — accepted email greeting? If I knew how to italicize on this machine, I would’ve italicized ‘I.’ But I’m saying no more ‘dear’ heading and the addressee’s name. Nor will I, from now on, sign off with ‘best’ or ‘very best’ or ‘sincerely’ or such. Just my first initial or name. Don’t want to appear too passé, know what I mean? So tell me, any further thoughts of a movie you’d like to go to, if that’s still on? If you get a chance, let me know. If you’re too tied up to go to a movie or even get back to me, it’s perfectly understandable. I’m the one with all the free time and two daughters out on their own. Very best, Oops, sorry. It’ll take a bit of getting used to. Phil.” She emails him back the next day. “Hi! Apologies for not getting back to you sooner. As you surmised, I’m tied up in knots and nots. What does she mean by that? She doesn’t know. So excuse me for trying to be literary. I invariably fail there. I’m much better at plain speaking and also sticking to the same pronoun. I thought of three movies — it’s a specially fruitful period for movies in Baltimore. But I have the kids all week — Claude is out of town at a linguistics conference — so I want to but no can do. Best. Very best. Sincerely. Simply showing my solidarity sibilantly, and another literary failure. xx, Ruth.” He checks the computer several times a day the next week to see if there’s a message from her. Then he calls, ten days after her last email and she says “Oh, gosh. I was supposed to call you, yes?” “No. You told me to call or write you after about a week.” “Good,” she says. “I’d hate for you to think I didn’t mean it when we talked about going to a movie. But I’ve been so occupied with schoolwork and mom work and housework and even the girls’ homework. Middle school math, for me, is tough.” “Not to worry, really,” he says. “As I said, I’m the one—” “Hey! I just thought of something. I’m giving a reading from my new novel a week after next. The first public airing of it, and if you’d like to, please come. It’s in a new mortar and pretzel bookstore, which has a wine license, so you can drink while you listen. I’d be curious what you think of the part I’ll be reading, and you won’t have to listen to me long. There are three other readers.” “I’m coming. Only my car breaking down could stop me.” She gives the name of the bookstore. “If you Google it, you’ll get the announcement of the reading on its events calendar and better directions to the store than I could ever give. I always get people lost. And Whitney and Harold are having a small drink party before the reading. I know they’d love for you to come to it.” “Not the party,” he says. “I don’t want to get looped and then drive. I’ll have a glass of wine at the store. And the one party I’ve been to at their house, when Abby was alive, took us half an hour to find it. It was evening and they lived in what looked like woods.” “Then give yourself plenty of time getting there and only drink Perrier.” “You’re so nice,” he says, “encouraging me to step out and socialize more — I know what your angle is. And I will, but one event at a time. Something tells me that’s what I should do. So I’ll see you at the reading, if you’re too busy before then to meet me for coffee or lunch.” “Till the day of the reading, I am,” she says. “A ton of half-theses to read and then discuss with the writers. You know how it is. You did the same with me. And though you told me mine, and later my full thesis, were the easiest to read because of all the brief dialog and half my stories were short-shorts, I know it took a lot of your time. I’m sorry we can’t meet sooner. I had a good time that lunch.” “I loved our lunch,” he says. “Loved it. But there’ll be another. “Of course there will,” she says.