Christine holds Ruth’s hand as they walk down the street together. New York isn’t really her town; she prefers the ebb and flow of Washington or the warmth of Southern California. But Christine is determined to have a good time. She owes Ruth that much.
She had been surprised at the first contact, when the message had been left on her machine. She was even more surprised when the person waiting for her on the bench was Ruth Evershed. She didn’t think Ruth would remember her, not in any significant way. After all, all they had in common was Tom.
Tom. She squeezed Ruth’s hand briefly as his name flickered through her mind.
Ruth had been more confident than Christine remembered. She walked like she belonged, like she was actually supposed to be meeting ex CIA agents. She drank in all the details and colours of the world around her, and refused to tell Christine why she had left England.
Christine stumbled, a little, as Ruth propelled her backwards through the doorway. She didn’t notice, as Ruth’s fingers pulled her shirt away from her waist, slipped her tongue between her lips.
Christine gasped as Ruth wraps her arms around her, as her mouth seeks out all the sensitive places. She can’t help but wonder what has gotten into Ruth, what has changed her in this way. Or has she always been like this, and Christine was too busy to notice.
“Why did you look for me?” She asks, wrapping her fingers around Ruth’s.
“I thought you might make me happier.”
“Did it work?” Christine turned on her side, searching Ruth’s face.
“I’ll let you know when I’m sure.”
Christine knew it wasn’t certain, that there would probably be a time when Ruth would pack up and move on, that they were only suspending the moment. She knew that Ruth wasn’t fully committed to whatever they had, that there was a million things running through her mind, that Christine was just a pleasant distraction.
But Ruth squeezed her hand and swung it a little as they drank in the sights. And Christine couldn’t think of a better place to be.