This is where I come for inspiration, and that’s what I need right now. I have no idea how Ruby’s going to react to this bombshell.
A blast of tension digs into my shoulders as we settle onto the wooden bench in the late afternoon sun that shines through the vines crawling up my neighbor’s brick wall. “You know how Claire was always making lists?”
She blinks. Furrows her brow. “Of course. That was the whole point of our last trip. The Quarter-Life Crisis Containment List.” Her lips quirk. “We were going to figure out all the secrets to life early and skip the angst in our forties.”
“Right,” I say and keep going. This isn’t the time for hesitation. “I was cleaning up the desk in her room for Mom the other day and . . .” My throat tightens. “I found another one.”
She sits back fast, her shoulders knocking against the wall. “A list?” She swallows. “Really?” Her pitch rises with a note of hope.
Understandable. It’s not every day you have a chance to hear from someone who’s gone.
“Yes,” I say softly. “And your name was at the top of it.”
She pulls in a shaky breath and her hand drifts up to hover in front of her mouth. She says nothing—just exhales loudly, her eyes wide.
“It’s for me?” she finally whispers.
“Yeah.” I hold her gaze. “And since you finished PT today, I thought this was the perfect time to give it to you.”
She nods, several times, as if needing to reassure herself that she can handle this. But I know she can. “Show me?”
I open my wallet, reach for the paper, but hesitate.
I don’t just want to show her. I want to share it with her. Be there for her as she steps up to the challenge of living her best life.
I dig deep. “Before you read it, I want you to know that Claire wanted you to share it with a friend . . . and I’d like to be that friend. If it’s okay with you.”
“Really?” she asks, incredulous. “But you hate lists. You were always teasing Claire about them.”
“Not always.”
She arches a brow. “I clearly remember hearing her shout that she was going to kill you if you touched her World Domination List one more time.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay, yeah, I messed with her. That’s what brothers do. They tease their sisters. But I knew her lists mattered to her, and I think this one matters more than most.” I take a bracing breath. “And more importantly, I think you need it, and . . . maybe I do too. So just think about it, okay?”
“Okay,” Ruby says, her voice wobbling now. “I mean, you’re the only friend I have who loved her like I do, so . . .”
I hand her the list, finally ready to share it.
She opens the folded paper, takes her time reading it, and then her eyes move to the top and she reads it again, swiping a tear from her cheek as her eyes track across the page. I rub her shoulder, gently circling the knots in her muscles with my fingertips. I can’t not touch her right now—not when I can feel the anxiety building inside her, making the air around us vibrate with tension.
When she finishes her second read-through, she closes her eyes and lifts her face, drying her tears with sunshine. Finally, she turns to me. “I’m not sure I can do this, Jesse. Not right now . . .”
“Okay,” I say, my stomach sinking. I should have planned this better, thought of a foolproof way to convince her. “But if not now, then . . . when?”
“I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head as she carefully refolds the paper with trembling hands. “Once I have the rest of my life sorted out, maybe? I have a ton of illustration work to catch up on for the new menus we’re launching after vacation, plus my greeting cards. Also, my apartment is a wreck, and I promised Gigi we’d go bowling at least once, and—”
“Bowling?” My brows pinch together. “You can go bowling anytime, Ruby. This is your chance to experience things Claire wanted you to experience, to live a better life. Isn’t that what you want?”
“I-I don’t know.” She stands and paces a few steps away.
I follow her. “You said yourself that your last trip with Claire was about beating the quarter-life crisis. Have you beaten it yet? Because from where I stand, it sure doesn't look like it.”
She spins to face me. “Thanks a lot.”
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I mean—” I shake my head. “You just haven’t seemed like yourself. Not for a long time.”
“My best friend died and I wasn’t sure I’d walk again,” she says, her eyes beginning to shine. “Sorry if I wasn’t Suzy Sunshine.”