The Words Shimmer

by Jenn Matthews

  Sitting in the warmth of the car, Mel considered Ruby as she drove. She was a bit of conundrum: on one hand, a caring and accomplished nurse and lecturer, on the other, an opinionated pain in the proverbial. There were a few moments of silence. I want to know more about her. She chewed on her lip as she tried to think of something to ask. In the end, she went for a safe option. “I have a cat.”

  The soft radio music drifted around them, and Mel’s words sounded loud in it. She watched as Ruby’s eyebrows flicked upwards once, then as a smile settled on her face.

  “What’s he called?”

  “She is called Epione.” Mel clasped her hands together in her lap, one finger reaching out to touch the grey plastic of the handle of her crutches. “She’s named after the Ancient Greek goddess of soothing pain.”

  “That makes sense, considering your profession.”

  “Do you have any pets?”

  “I do. We have a dog called Barney.” An inscrutable grin pulled at Ruby’s features.

  “Great name for a dog. What breed is he?”

  “She’s a girl, and she’s some kind of terrier mix.”

  “A girl dog called Barney?” Mel asked, now understanding the grin.

  Ruby’s low chuckle rumbled about the car. “My daughters, when we got her, were small, and they had seen some film or telly programme, where the dog was called Barney.” She tucked a brown curl of hair behind her ear. “And that was that. Never mind that Barney is a boy’s name.”

  Mel laughed, the back of her head hitting the headrest softly. “That’s a much better pet story than mine.”

  Ruby continued to grin and turned into Mel’s road, directions apparently unneeded.

  “So, you have two daughters?” Mel asked as Ruby easily pulled into her gravel driveway, spun the car ninety degrees to the right, and backed towards her house. Impressive. She switched off the engine.

  “I do. Jasmine and Chloe. Sixteen and Eighteen.”

  “Just growing up, then. Good kids?”

  “Not bad. I worry about Jas. She’s my sixteen-year-old and she wears these terrible outfits. Short skirts, low-cut tops.”

  “Early developer?”

  “She was.” Ruby furrowed her eyebrows and twisted in her seat to Mel. She shook her head. “She’s going to get herself into trouble one of these days.”

  “With a nurse for a mother, you’d think she’d want to be safe,” Mel said quietly. “If I had a nurse as a mother, I’d be terrified of all the things I could catch.”

  That earned a smile from Ruby, and Mel returned it, pleased the joke had gone down well.

  “Chloe’s my little adult, however. She’s eighteen and doing a hundred A levels. All science-based.” The proud gleam in Ruby’s eye was clear to see.

  Beaming, Mel placed her hand on the door handle.

  “Look at me sat here chatting while you want to get home,” Ruby exclaimed, and practically jumped from the car and rounded it to pull open Mel’s door before she had a chance to protest.

  Ruby helped her to her front door, the climbing plant over the porch catching a bit in her hair. She caught a tendril of the plant between her forefinger and thumb. “Could we grow this, whatever it is?” The look in her eyes was hopeful.

  Mel hummed in thought. “I don’t see why not. You like it? It’s a clematis.”

  “It’s pretty.”

  “Then we shall look into getting one.” Mel clambered into her bungalow. “It’ll need something to climb up.”

  Ruby put a hand to her temple and groaned. “I really know nothing about it all. It’s going to be a terrible mess, I can feel it.”

  Mel reached to take her hand from her head. Her fingers were warm, her skin soft. “Hey, you’ve got me to help, and besides, don’t make it a self-fulfilling prophecy. It’ll be great.”

  “Even if I manage to kill everything that’s even remotely green?” Ruby asked, one eyebrow up.

  “I won’t let you.” Mel realised she was still holding Ruby’s hand. She let go. “Anyway. See you. Thanks so much for coming with me.”

  “My pleasure. See you next Wednesday.”

  “Fancy lunch?” Mel asked, one hand on her door, ready to close it.

  “We could do, couldn’t we?”

  Mel closed the door and felt overwhelming warmth spread through her.

  Chapter 7

  November brought with it crisp leaves that swirled in spirals between buildings, rain that soaked everything you owned, and distracted students. Ruby had a headache: whether it was from the drastic change in weather and temperature, or the more in-depth anatomy she was teaching and her students’ inability to concentrate, she wasn’t sure.

  Another seminar about the human body with the same class of first years. Francesca leant her head in her hand and stared out of the window. Ruby gave them a few extra minutes to read the passage she’d instructed them to, then stood up straight and cleared her throat to signify their attention. Twenty-three faces all turned towards her. The twenty-fourth remained directed out the window.

  “Something going on outside?” Ruby gave her the benefit of the doubt, but Francesca only sighed and shrugged, placing one hand flat on her book.

  “No.” Short and blunt, and absolutely not appropriate for an anatomy lesson.

  “Is there a problem?” Ruby asked, trying to sound kind, but she was pretty sure it didn’t come across that way.

  “Problems all over the world. Problems in America, problems in Africa, problems over here.” Francesca shrugged again and smirked around at her classmates, some of whom tittered back at her flippancy. “If you’re asking whether there’s a problem with the lesson, then, yeah, actually, it’s boring.”

  “It may be boring, but it’s necessary. For your course.” Ruby placed her hands together, palm to palm and rested her chin on her fingertips. A lump threatened at her throat. How dare she call my lesson boring. “You wouldn’t get very far with little knowledge of the human body, now, would you?”

  “It’s just IVs and blood pressures and temperatures. And bed baths. I think I know which bits of an old lady need washing.”

  The lump pressed, but Ruby swallowed it away. This is not the time to allow your emotions to get the better of you. “You’ll be responsible for much more than that,” Ruby said, suddenly reminded of Mel arguing with her about the role of a paramedic. “You’ll need to work out dosages of medication, make sure the doctors don’t kill anyone by noticing symptoms early, and you can’t do that without a good knowledge of anatomy.”

  “Whatever, Miss,” Francesca said, spitting out the four-letter word with all the derision of a curse, and the whole class snorted and sniggered.

  Students don’t call lecturers ‘Miss’. The name was very much for school, not university, and Ruby was concerned. This kind of silly discussion had no place in her lessons, and she wished Francesca would simply get on with her work and get the most out of the knowledge Ruby was imparting on them all. They’d need it once they got a job.

  “That’s enough, now.” Ruby tried to keep her voice light. “Let’s turn to page sixty-four.” The rustling of books being manoeuvred was pleasing to her ears, but Ruby noticed that Francesca hadn’t moved.

  “Heads, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes,” Francesca sang, just loud enough that everyone could hear.

  Ruby’s cheeks became hot, and she pressed a palm to one, embarrassed. “That’s enough.” She folded her arms, her heart rate quickening.

  “All right, don’t have an aneurism,” Francesca said with a smirk.

  Everyone laughed, and Ruby felt a little like sliding underneath her table. She huffed and sat up straight instead. Professional. “Maybe you’d like to read the top paragraph on—”

  “I’ve said before, no.” Francesca’s voice had lost the playful tone and now had a dangerous edge to it.


  “Why not? Everyone else is perfectly happy to—”

  “Because I don’t want to,” Francesca said, her own arms folding in a stance similar to Ruby’s. “And you can’t make me do anything without my informed consent, Miss.”

  Ruby left it a few heartbeats before lowering her voice. “Don’t call me ‘Miss’. That’s for school.”

  “Feels like school, being here.”

  Ruby gave up, rolled her head on her neck, and picked someone else to read out the passage. If she won’t co-operate, I’ll just have to ignore her behaviour and spend time with the people that actually want to learn.

  On arrival at the canteen, Mel nearly limped into Ruby. “Fancy having lunch in my office?” Ruby asked, her fingers toying with the strap of her briefcase.

  “Oh, um, okay. If that’s okay with you.”

  “I’ve just had a stressful morning, and I would prefer somewhere a bit quieter.”

  “No, no, that’s fine.”

  Mel followed her at her slow pace down the corridor and towards the biology block. The office, when they entered it, was warm and inviting, with a large painting of a beachscape to one side of her desk and a small sofa with a coffee table.

  Mel caught Ruby eyeing the sofa, which was sunken in the middle and therefore quite low down. “Risk assessing the chances of me getting up again if we take the sofa?” Mel asked, grinning. She indicated her crutches. “I’m getting quite good with these, you know.”

  “No.” Ruby’s gaze met Mel’s and her face relaxed. “I wasn’t,” she insisted, and perhaps to prove her point, she strode over to the sofa and plonked herself onto it.

  “Comfy.” Mel ran her hand over the worn leather of the sofa as she sat beside her. “Very nice.”

  They got out their respective lunch items, and Mel set her flask of coffee on the table. She grabbed a cushion from the corner of the sofa and placed it over her knee, to make a better surface to spread out the foil her sandwiches were in. She could feel Ruby’s gaze on her and turned her head to grin.

  “So, why the change of location? Something bugging you?”

  Ruby sighed. “My first-year class.”

  “Is that the one with the student who’s…an issue?” Biting into her sandwich, Mel leant over the foil so as not to drip on her trousers.

  “That’s right.” Ruby made a long noise in her throat. “She’s getting worse.”

  “In what way?”

  “She’s rude, combative, and today she tried to humiliate me.”

  “Well, that’s not on, surely?”

  Ruby shrugged and stabbed a little too aggressively at her salad. “She refuses point blank to contribute, won’t read out loud, and won’t answer questions properly.” She crunched her salad, swallowed and rolled her head on her neck. “And she won’t stop calling me ‘Miss’.”

  “Oh dear,” Mel said, a small chuckle in her voice. She put a hand to her lips and quietened. “Have you asked her what the problem is?”

  “Oh, several times,” Ruby replied, playing with her salad, poking it around inside her plastic box.

  “And you say she won’t read out loud?”

  “I think she’s rebelling against my authority. Not that it’s really like that at uni, is it? I mean, you know, you’re here.”

  “I am.” Won’t read out loud; disruptive in class? Sounds like my own childhood at school. Sounds far too familiar.

  Mel watched Ruby as she continued to stab and munch on her salad, taking regular drinks from her bottle. She had an inkling what was wrong with this student. The similarities to her own past were stark and a bit frightening. But it’s none of my business. She hasn’t asked me for advice. I’m just here as an ear to moan at. And I don’t mind that at all.

  Mel looked at her hands. The spaces between her thumbs and forefingers were getting sore. Damn crutches. She ate her sandwiches as Ruby continued to complain, happy that Ruby could come to her, and happy that Ruby felt comfortable and relaxed enough in her presence. They knew each other fairly well now; not the details of favourite colours or family histories exactly, but Mel thought she knew Ruby’s personality and what made her tick.

  Ruby was passionate about her subject and wanted to impart that passion on to her students. Ruby was caring and gentle, but also fiery and opinionated—often to the point of rudeness.

  The desire to hide, however, reminded her that Ruby didn’t know everything. She didn’t know of her affliction, of her abnormality. The special glasses she wore, the coloured Perspex she held over a book so that the words didn’t jump around like grasshoppers. She didn’t know about the extra time she was given for exams, the special allowances she had when her assignments were marked. She didn’t know about her diagnosis, if one could call it that.

  Dyslexia.

  Putting a name to it was a reasonably new thing and still didn’t sit well in the list of things that made up Melissa Jackson. I think Ruby’s pretty, and I think she’s intelligent. Perhaps that was why Mel didn’t want to relinquish that part of herself to Ruby. Right now, Ruby thought—she hoped—that Mel was clever and found it easy to learn. Especially considering she was tackling her ECP training, which was hard-going and required academic prowess. At the moment, Ruby saw her as normal, as someone who was just like her. What if she told Ruby of her difficulties and Ruby changed her mind? Mel didn’t even want to contemplate that possibility. She didn’t want to be… less in anyone’s opinion. But mostly she didn’t want to be less in Ruby’s mind.

  Mel finished her sandwich and sucked her fingers clean. She grinned as she saw Ruby’s look of disgust. “Finger food is the best,” Mel said, drinking from her flask and brushing her hands against one another.

  “What d’you think I should do about Francesca?” Ruby looked sincerely upset about her pupil.

  “I think… maybe just leave her to it.” Mel sucked on her bottom lip as she took out her yogurt. “She’ll come around to thinking you’re the bee’s knees when it comes to everything anatomy.”

  Ruby threw her an appreciative look, and Mel hoped right inside her chest that she’d skirted around the issue for now. She’ll work it out on her own. She’s not stupid.

  Chapter 8

  December was colder still, with ice on the ground even in the middle of the day, and on Ruby’s windscreen every morning, without fail. She was enjoying the lunches she and Mel shared, and the permanent swap to her office offered them more privacy to really talk, too. Mel seemed to like it in there: it was more comfortable, and there were less people to knock her as she made her way across the room.

  They’d taken to sitting together in the quiet and chatting. Each week, Ruby thought she should explain to Mel that she was attracted to women—it was only fair; Mel had come out to her weeks ago—but every time she tried, she lost her tongue… or her nerve. Perhaps it was the easy friendship they had settled into, the jokes and light teasing that were now staples in their lunchtime conversation.

  The Christmas holidays came around more quickly than Ruby had ever remembered. As she and her daughters sat down for coffee on Christmas Day, she realised that, although she had Mel’s number, she hadn’t phoned her once since they had finished university. I’ll text her, maybe, to wish her a happy Christmas. Nodding once and determinedly, she sipped at her coffee and watched Jasmine and Chloe open their presents. Barney lay on her back, her feet kicking in the air occasionally, as she languished with a belly full of wet food and dog biscuits.

  Chloe, the more affectionate but less exuberant of the two, sat beside her mother—her lap covered in all the cartoon T-shirts and new accessories she’d asked for—and put an arm around her. “Love you so much, Mum.”

  “Love you too, sweetie.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Mum,” Jasmine echoed, her gaze already trained on the number on the iTunes voucher, typing it into her phone so that she could use it as soon as she w
anted.

  “Open yours,” Chloe insisted, thrusting an envelope into her hands.

  “Oh, it’s not a blooming facial again, is it?” Ruby slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled the contents from inside. Her eyebrows rose as she took in the slim tickets. “Aquarium tickets.” She wasn’t sure whether she felt surprised or amused.

  “You’ve been talking about it for ages,” Chloe said, her corduroy-covered knees bouncing a bit with excitement. “And this way, you have an excuse to go.”

  “But there are two tickets,” Ruby said, holding them up. “Don’t tell me one of my dear sproglets would like to come with me.”

  Barney made a groaning noise, and her ribs expanded as her biscuit coma apparently became too much.

  “Not gonna happen,” Jasmine said, followed by a derisive snort.

  “We were thinking…” Chloe looked down at her sister who was sitting on the floor, now perusing her music options. “Jas?”

  “Why don’t you take that Mel you keep going on about?” Jasmine finally looked up and put her phone down.

  Ruby planted an arm around Chloe’s shoulders and squeezed her. “I’m sure she wouldn’t want to come with me to see a load of fish.”

  “She likes animals, doesn’t she? You said.” Chloe looked like it was the best idea she and her sister had ever had. Even better than the pasta pictures they had made as small kids. “She’s got a cat, so chances are she’ll like fish too.” Chloe shrugged.

  “And you so like her.” Jasmine was smirking, her arms folded over her front, so her boobs squished together above the low-cut neck of her top.

  Ruby rolled her eyes at her youngest and stared back down at the tickets. “I so like her as a friend.”

  “Clearly bollocks.”

  “Language.” Her sharp tone dissipated as she looked back at Chloe, who had a sickly-sweet smile on her face. Ruby rolled her eyes.

  “I know when you like someone, Mum,” Chloe said, her tone careful and kind. “And you definitely like Mel.”