couldn’t think of any better way of phrasing it. She was silent as I shoved the gearshift on the steering post into second while pulling away from one of the few traffic lights in the area. I hoped I hadn’t spooked her.
“We were…we were going steady. We were getting along fine.”
I thought she might have been going to say that they were in love, but that was too intimate an admission to a stranger—especially a male stranger. I tried one more time. “Were you having any problems with your relationship?”
“No. No problems. We were getting along fine.”
I decided to let that rest. I said, “I saw Ralph several times a year, mostly during the summer. Sometimes our families would go up into Canada and stay at a lodge on a lake for a week. I got the impression that Ralph was kind of wild.”
“He was a little wild, but I helped to calm him down.”
Or maybe put him to sleep. She must have exhibited more personality with Ralph than she was showing with me. Or did he just like her for her body? I preferred witty chatterboxes, myself. “How long had you two been going together?”
“Since the start of the year.”
“The calendar year?”
“Yes.”
“So you had been going together almost three months when he…”
“Yes.”
She would have been a sophomore and Ralph would have been a junior.
“Did you see him on the day he…died?”
“Yes. We sat together at an assembly that took place just before…”
Her voice trailed off. Usually, classes sat together at assemblies, but sometimes students were able to break away and sit with their friends.
“Where were you sitting?”
“In the balcony.”
“Did you ever see him…do anything unusual or daring in the balcony?”
“One time he took me there and showed me how he could stand on his hands on the edge. It scared me half to death.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him never to do it again.”
“What happened after the assembly was over?”
Ruth was silent. I glanced over and saw a tear rolling down her cheek. Maybe I was asking too many questions. I wouldn’t press her any more.
She wiped the tear away with her finger and said, “I had to go to class. He had a class near mine and ordinarily he would have walked me to my class, but he said he needed to talk to someone. So I went on alone.”
“Did he say who he needed to talk to?”
“No.”
I had one more question. “Did you see him again?”
She choked as she said, “No.”
I couldn’t bear to ask her any more questions about Ralph, but I also couldn’t leave her in this condition. I waited while she blew her nose into a tissue she extracted from her purse and then changed the subject. “So you work with Ed.”
“Yes.” Her face lit up with a wan smile for the first time. She said, “Ed is a riot. He’s fun to work with. And I love his accent.”
“Do you write stories for the paper?” If she wrote stories, she must interview people, and if she interviewed people, she must talk.
“Yes, I write stories, and I type the stories up on stencils, so we can make copies of the paper for distribution. Ed’s not a very good typist.” She actually giggled.
I knew stencils well since I had typed many of them while putting the school paper together at Atherton. They were difficult to work with, required great accuracy on the typewriter, and could be messy while making reproductions.
I said, “I really do write. I wrote for the school paper at Atherton.”
“Oh.”
We chatted about the newspaper business the rest of the way to her house.
***
Dinner at my aunt’s house was a somber affair. Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Jeff had not gotten over Ralph’s death. Ralph was an only child, so the house would have been completely quiet if it weren’t for me. I think that’s why they agreed so readily to let me come and live with them. They saw me as a replacement for Ralph. But so far, I had been a failure in that regard because they rarely smiled.
Uncle Jeff had a job
“We were…we were going steady. We were getting along fine.”
I thought she might have been going to say that they were in love, but that was too intimate an admission to a stranger—especially a male stranger. I tried one more time. “Were you having any problems with your relationship?”
“No. No problems. We were getting along fine.”
I decided to let that rest. I said, “I saw Ralph several times a year, mostly during the summer. Sometimes our families would go up into Canada and stay at a lodge on a lake for a week. I got the impression that Ralph was kind of wild.”
“He was a little wild, but I helped to calm him down.”
Or maybe put him to sleep. She must have exhibited more personality with Ralph than she was showing with me. Or did he just like her for her body? I preferred witty chatterboxes, myself. “How long had you two been going together?”
“Since the start of the year.”
“The calendar year?”
“Yes.”
“So you had been going together almost three months when he…”
“Yes.”
She would have been a sophomore and Ralph would have been a junior.
“Did you see him on the day he…died?”
“Yes. We sat together at an assembly that took place just before…”
Her voice trailed off. Usually, classes sat together at assemblies, but sometimes students were able to break away and sit with their friends.
“Where were you sitting?”
“In the balcony.”
“Did you ever see him…do anything unusual or daring in the balcony?”
“One time he took me there and showed me how he could stand on his hands on the edge. It scared me half to death.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him never to do it again.”
“What happened after the assembly was over?”
Ruth was silent. I glanced over and saw a tear rolling down her cheek. Maybe I was asking too many questions. I wouldn’t press her any more.
She wiped the tear away with her finger and said, “I had to go to class. He had a class near mine and ordinarily he would have walked me to my class, but he said he needed to talk to someone. So I went on alone.”
“Did he say who he needed to talk to?”
“No.”
I had one more question. “Did you see him again?”
She choked as she said, “No.”
I couldn’t bear to ask her any more questions about Ralph, but I also couldn’t leave her in this condition. I waited while she blew her nose into a tissue she extracted from her purse and then changed the subject. “So you work with Ed.”
“Yes.” Her face lit up with a wan smile for the first time. She said, “Ed is a riot. He’s fun to work with. And I love his accent.”
“Do you write stories for the paper?” If she wrote stories, she must interview people, and if she interviewed people, she must talk.
“Yes, I write stories, and I type the stories up on stencils, so we can make copies of the paper for distribution. Ed’s not a very good typist.” She actually giggled.
I knew stencils well since I had typed many of them while putting the school paper together at Atherton. They were difficult to work with, required great accuracy on the typewriter, and could be messy while making reproductions.
I said, “I really do write. I wrote for the school paper at Atherton.”
“Oh.”
We chatted about the newspaper business the rest of the way to her house.
***
Dinner at my aunt’s house was a somber affair. Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Jeff had not gotten over Ralph’s death. Ralph was an only child, so the house would have been completely quiet if it weren’t for me. I think that’s why they agreed so readily to let me come and live with them. They saw me as a replacement for Ralph. But so far, I had been a failure in that regard because they rarely smiled.
Uncle Jeff had a job
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