Page 40 of Life After Me

David

Ruth rang this morning. She was highly apologetic because she hadn’t managed to get her car to a garage for an estimate yet. She’d been working longer shifts at work to cover leave and sickness, and she’d been struggling to find the time.

I told her it didn’t matter. The work on my car was going to run into the thousands, so I would definitely be putting a claim in.

At first the company tried to say that it wasn’t worth repairing, but it was a good car with low mileage, so I’d managed to argue the case with them.

I have to admit I was hugely relieved. I didn’t want to get rid of Jenn’s car yet.

It was nice talking to Ruth, though. The funny thing was she seemed more interested in asking how I was feeling than blaming me for the accident. She kept apologising for the inconvenience she thought she’d caused by not getting an estimate on her car yet.

‘The guys at my garage are really good,’ she’d told me cheerfully. ‘If I drive my car up there, they’ll have a look at it for me while I wait.’

‘They sound better than mine. Who do you use?’

‘The ones round the back of the old river industrial estate.’

‘That’s the middle of nowhere,’ I complained on her behalf.

‘Which is half the reason I’ve not been able to get the car there. I need my car for work, and anyone I’d usually ask for a lift is already on double shifts too.’

‘I’ll give you a lift.’ The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I wished I could take them back. Why had I just said that? Idiot.

‘Your car looked worse than mine.’ She laughed and the sound was contagious even down the phone line.

‘It is worse. It’s going to take a week just to get the parts in, so I’ve got a hire car. Turned up yesterday. I wouldn’t have thought this situation could get any more embarrassing, until that thing arrived.’

‘Really?’ Ruth sounded like she was trying not to laugh.

‘Yeah. It’s one of those tiny little things that looks like a normal car with its back end cut off. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, it’s bright orange.’

‘It can’t be that bad.’

‘Oh it can.’ I laughed. ‘It practically glows in the dark and is covered in adverts. I’m driving a luminescent orange billboard.’

Ruth laughed again. ‘So what are you up to today?’ Her question caught us both off guard. ‘I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. I only called to let you know I hadn’t had time to get to my garage yet.’

‘It’s all right.’ I shrugged. ‘I had contemplated going shopping to fill up the fridge, but I don’t think I can handle the thought of being seen driving the glow-in-the-dark orange on wheels. Besides, now I’m waiting to see if you’re going to accept my offer of a lift.’

‘I really don’t need a lift. I can just take my car up there and wait while they look at it.’

‘How long will that take?’ I already knew the answer.

‘Just a few hours.’

‘It doesn’t seem fair you wasting half your day off waiting for your car to be checked over. Especially when it’s my fault,’ I argued. ‘How about I meet you up there and run you back to town. It won’t take that long.’

‘And how will I get back?’ she asked.

‘I’ll drop you back when it’s ready.’ The answer seemed obvious to me.

‘If you’re sure...’ Ruth still didn’t sound convinced.

‘I am. In fact I insist. It’s the least I can do. If you can manage the embarrassment of my loan car, that is.’

‘I think I can probably handle it.’ She laughed.

* * *

I pulled up to the garage almost at the same time Ruth pulled up in her battered car.

I winced again when I saw the size of the dent I’d caused.

She waved at me through the driver’s window, and a few seconds later the door opened and a pair of green, high-heeled sandals dropped to the ground, followed by feet that were bare apart from pink painted toenails, and long, lean, tanned legs. How had I missed those legs before?

She wriggled her toes into the sandals, and stood and stretched luxuriously in the sunshine, and for a second I was treated to a tantalising glimpse of tanned stomach as her T-shirt rode up a few inches.

I gulped. Bloody hell, she was good-looking.

Pain swamped me almost before I’d finished the thought.

How could I be so disloyal to Jenn? I shook the thought off and climbed out of my tiny orange mockery of a car as Ruth disappeared into the garage.

By the time she’d reappeared, I’d got myself back under control.

‘Hey.’ Ruth sauntered over and peered at me from over the top of her sunglasses, and something stirred in my stomach. She was really pretty. ‘Thanks for doing this.’

‘You’re welcome.’ I smiled at her as I opened the car door, and peered down at the shoes she’d just put on, wondering again how women walked balanced on such precarious-looking heels. ‘So, do you often drive barefoot?’

‘Yep.’ She grinned. ‘I love my heels, but I can’t drive in them. And I’m too scatty to remember to leave flats in my car. I spend my working life in sensible shoes, so enjoy these when I can. Why?’

‘Just wondering. So, where do you want to go?’

‘Well, if you drop me off in town, I thought I’d wander around the market for a bit.’

‘Sounds good. I could do with picking up a few bits myself.’

‘Well, then I guess we’ll do that, and then I could buy you a cup of coffee to thank you for the lift. Unless you’ve got other plans.’

‘Make it a drink in a pub garden and you’ve got yourself a deal. It’s too nice a day to be indoors. We might as well make the most of the sunshine before autumn well and truly sets in.’

We wandered around the market for a while, before settling in a pub with a nice garden.

I stared at the bags on the ground and realised that I’d actually had fun.

I hadn’t been expecting it, but Ruth was really easy to talk to.

She had a wicked sense of humour. We’d spent the morning laughing and chatting like old friends who’d just been reunited instead of strangers who’d only met that week.

Ruth reappeared. ‘Two lager shandies and a couple of packets of crisps. I took a guess that you’d be a cheese and onion type of guy.’

‘I don’t remember crisps being part of the deal.’

‘It seemed a fair reward for rescuing a damsel in distress. Even if your trusty steed is luminescent.’ She grinned and stretched, and I found myself struggling not to enjoy watching her.

‘Hardly. Last time we met I’m pretty sure I was the one in distress, and you were the one patching me up.’ I took a mouthful of my drink. ‘So what type of nurse are you? Community?’

‘Not exactly.’ Ruth took a sip of her own drink. ‘ Aaaah , that’s better. I’m palliative care.’

‘Like . . . dying?’

‘Not always, but yes, often it is end-of-life care. Bit of a conversation killer, usually.’

‘No, no. Not at all.’ I leaned forward, genuinely intrigued. ‘How on earth did you get into that field?’

‘I’ve always been a nurse, but the end-of-life care? I guess you could say my husband got me into that.’ She followed my guilty glance to her left hand. ‘I lost him five years ago. Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.’ She grimaced.

‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Thanks. He was a great guy. I still miss him.’ Her eyes became wistful. ‘Anyway, that’s how I ended up in palliative care. The nurses who looked after him towards the end were so good. They helped me to bring him home and look after him there so he could be at peace and relaxed and happy.

‘They took us both at the worst point in our lives, and they accepted us like that. Having someone verify your feelings, and let you know it’s all right just to feel, is incredibly powerful.

They kept us both in good humour, and even made us laugh.

’ She shrugged. ‘They were angels. Before I met them, I didn’t know how Chris, that’s my husband, or I were going to cope.

But they made it bearable. Better than that, they made it beautiful. ’

‘Beautiful?’

Ruth nodded. ‘Helping someone get ready to die can be one of the most fulfilling things you can ever do. Death is always sad, but what most people never realise is that it can also be peaceful and beautiful, and even healing for the people who are left. Chris’s nurses helped me see that.’

‘So you decided you wanted to do that for other people?’ I asked softly.

‘Exactly.’ Her eyes flicked up to lock on mine. ‘Most people don’t understand that, but I think maybe you do.’

I shrugged in reply. ‘I think most people spend their lives trying to avoid thinking about death.’

‘But not you?’

‘I used to.’

‘So what changed? If you don’t mind me asking.’

‘My wife was killed in a car crash at the start of this year.’ The words hurt less than I’d expected them to.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Ruth’s eyes were gentle and full of sympathy, and her fingers were warm as they squeezed mine. Just her touch was comforting. She must be really good at her job.

‘Thanks.’ I pressed my lips together to keep them from trembling.

‘So what was she like?’

‘Jenn? Oh she’s wonderful. Warm and full of light. People just loved her.’

‘And what about you?’ Ruth’s hand still rested on mine. ‘How are you doing?’

The question took me by surprise, probably because it seemed so genuine. ‘I’m... I don’t know. I’m getting there I guess. Most of the time.’

Ruth nodded. ‘I remember that. As clichéd as it is, time does actually help.’

‘Yeah. I guess maybe it does.’ I took another gulp of my drink. ‘So, this conversation’s getting a little depressing. Fancy a change?’

‘Sure. Kids?’

‘Me? Yeah I’ve got two. Matthew and Charlotte. They’re both grown up and long moved out. How about you?’

‘A daughter, Lisa. She’s off to university this year.

To be honest, I’m dreading it. The house is going to be really quiet without her.

’ She took another sip of her drink. ‘Anyway, that conversation has the potential to be very depressing as well, and I’ve had too nice a morning to think about miserable things. ’

‘So what do you want to talk about?’