Page 45 of When We Were More
“I was about to retire back then, but I didn’t want to leave you there alone. Mr. Stinson—the good one—was retiring at the same time, and I knew his son would be taking over. I’m not stupid. I’ve been a woman in the workforce my entire life, and I would like to think that women are treated equally and respected in the workplace nowadays, but I can’t say that’s completely true. It is better, but it’s not fixed. I delayed my retirement because I didn’t want to leave you alone with that new management. I don’t mind Jeff in general, but he’s not his dad, and he doesn’t make decisions the same way his dad did.Mari and I always knew you were going places. I wasn’t going to get outta Dodge until I was sure that no one there prevented you from doing that, simply because you’re a woman. Since Mari couldn’t be there with you, I was.”
Ruthie shrugs like it’s nothing. It’s not.
I stare at her in silence for a minute. Hell, this woman takes joy in being a thorn in my side every day, but then goes and sacrifices several years that she could have been retired in order to protect me. My eyes blur with tears. One sneaks out over my lower eyelid and rolls down my cheek. I quickly swipe it away with the back of my hand.
“I’m not broken anymore, Ruthie. You didn’t have to stay. You’ve given up those years of retirement for me. Thank you.”
Ruthie swats at the air and tsks.
“I know you’re not broken anymore. That fuck face you married couldn’t hold you down, and neither can Sir Douchebag and his friends in the tiny dick club.”
Shannon starts laughing, and it’s one of those laughs that’s infectious. I laugh as well, and then Ruthie joins. Anytime one of us begins to settle, one of the other two gets us going again.
Shannon’s practically wheezing as she tries to get words out. Finally, she says through breaks in her laughing attacks, “I’m sorry, the whole fuck face comment got me.”
Now I’m crying again, but they’re tears from laughing hard, and those are good tears.
“For me, it’s th-the tiny… dick… club. I’m guessing Sir Douchebag is Will?”
“Sure is,” Ruthie exclaims.
The server drops off our bill, looks between the three of us, and smiles. She laughs as she walks away. When we’re finally getting control of ourselves, I sense someone next to me, and I glance up.
Holy shit. Henry is standing there with his brother, Harrison, whom I remember from the bachelor party. Today, they’re both wearing suits, and if I thought Henry was attractive in everyday life, Henry in a suit is a woman’s wet dream. Wait a minute, can women have wet dreams? I’ll have to check that on the internet. Great, Ruthie’s got me thinking inappropriately now, too.
“Perhaps we should sit at this table, Harrison. These women seem to be having a blast. Plus, I want to hear who is in thisclubthey’re talking about.”
For once, Ruthie is silent.
“Hello, Matilda.” Henry’s eyes are fixed on me, not paying attention to the other women at the table. “This is my brother, Harrison. I thought I should introduce you.”
I manage to squeak out a hello, and Harrison returns it with a simple, “Hi,” then looks away.
Henry finally turns and looks at Ruthie and Shannon. “I’m Henry, Matilda’s fr?—”
“Contractor. He’s my contractor.” It comes out sounding obnoxious, and I don’t miss when Ruthie’s eyes light up, like she’s heard a secret.
“Well, aren’t you two tall drinks of water?” Her words come out breathy.
“Oh my God, Ruthie, you did not say that, did you?”
Henry laughs and properly introduces himself to Shannon and Ruthie, without my interruption this time. Harrison seems to be warming up a little and says hello as well.
While they’re doing that, I put my credit card with the bill and slip it to the server as she’s walking by.
“We were leaving.” I direct my comment at Henry.
“That’s too bad. We could’ve joined you. We finished a meeting with a potential client, and both needed to get some caffeine and a little food in us.”
“Oh, sure, that makes sense. You’re in a suit.” I fiddle with my hands, a nervous habit.
As if I have no self-control whatsoever, I allow my eyes to roam up and down his body. I’m embarrassed when I catch it happening, and I quickly stop. But when I look at his face, he’s grinning when my eyes land back on his.
“My eyes are up here, Matilda.” He says it in almost a whisper, but it’s obvious Ruthie hears when she cackles like an evil witch.
“Whatever, you egomaniac. We’ve gotta get back from our lunch break?—”
“No, we still have twenty minutes,” Shannon offers. I shoot her a glare, but she smirks back at me. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Jesus, she reconciles with her husband and suddenly she wants to play matchmaker.
