The One

I want to know everything. I want to soothe the wounds of the past and give her all her dreams of the future. When she looks at me, her pupils grow, the dark centers pushing out the ice blue, and I wonder if she’s feeling the same desire.

“They don’t give out scholarships to schools like that unless you deserve it.” I think about what I want to say next. “And I hope you know now, you are beautiful. But I get the being different thing in school. Makes the road a bit rougher, I know.”

“I guess. My brain is worth a lot of money if you add up all the years at Cranbrook then multiply that with the fact I went to Yale for undergrad and my MBA. But, that’s genetics, just like this.” She turns toward me again pointing to the burgundy skin around her eye. “But, as far as the intellect, I can’t take that much credit. School wasn’t that hard. I worked hard in my way, made sure I got everything I could out of it, but honestly, I just got lucky as far as my brain.”

I pause, thinking about my own education. Or lack of, more like it. I think about telling her, but reconsider. Truth is, I didn’t even graduate from high school. Dropped out when I was sixteen, and my teachers had just been passing me to get me through. After that, to my father’s horror, I went to work on an oil rig as the worm. Lowest of the low. But here I am now. I’ve found my success, but it’s been a long road.

Most people who aren’t used to it can barely read what I write. Back when I grew up, being dyslexic wasn’t something anyone understood. Most of my teachers just thought I was stupid and for a long time, I agreed.

All I know is right now, I want her to keep talking, I want to make her smile. And the idea of telling this Yale MBA graduate that I have probably at best a ninth-grade education only serves to enforce the general feeling this kind of woman would have no interest in an uneducated roughneck like me.

“I’m sure they all weren’t like Ruby.”

“I’ve had some friends since I got my degrees, I guess, though there aren’t any I’ll miss, but in school anyone I might have had anything in common with lived on the other side of town. Mom was my friend.” She takes a breath, as if the memory is still painful, then deflects attention. “How about you? You still have friends from high school? College?”

“I don’t have friends really.” I lean my elbow on the console between us feeling the truth of that statement. “I have work.”

Jack is the closest thing I have to a friend, and I think that’s the same for him. We’re a different breed, but if lifestyles were different, I could see him as a friend.

She nods. “Totally. I’ve worked so hard to get where I’m at. My work is my life, and I love it that way. I’d be lost without it. I love my mom, but I’ll never rely on anyone else for my livelihood. I saw what that did to her. It made her rely on people that always let her down. My work, my professional reputation…that’s my world.”

“Not going to do much for your rep being related to oil field trash then, huh?”

She smiles, her eyes sparkling, and I love so much that she’s stopped trying to cover her eye with her hair when she’s around me.

“That’s for sure.”

“Well, my father is a stand-up guy. Well, professionally I mean. So, you’ll have that going for you at least.” I hope she didn’t pick up on the clarification I made. Dad is challenged in the truth department when it comes to relationships, but I’ve got fingers and toes crossed with Gayl, he’s making a change.

“What does he do anyway? It’s so strange, I don’t know anything about him. I mean, my mom told me they went on a date like three weeks ago, then she mentioned him a couple more times since, but I was so busy with my new position and moving I guess I didn’t pay as much attention as I should. Now, they’re getting married, and I know virtually nothing about him.”

“Well, he’s an attorney. Medical malpractice. It’s not sexy, but it gives him nice bank accounts.”

She nods on a chuckle.

“Is that funny Whip?”

“Whip?” She looks over confused.

“Whip smart. Fits you.”

She tilts her head back and forth, shrugging. “Not funny. Just, my mom has a type I guess you’d say. Attorneys are her type. She’s been married five times. Three were attorneys, and I don’t know how many she dated over the years. Four or five more.”

I choke back my own laugh.