The Return of Ruby Rubber

1: On the Rebound

Ruth thought her nose was large enough, so it was with some relief that she found it didn’t get any bigger when she tweaked it. Still not satisfied that the defining feature of her face wasn’t going to rebel against her she flicked it rather harder than she had intended.

‘Ow!’ Ruth’s eyes began to water.

That was okay. That was what was supposed to happen when you got hit on the nose.

Okay, so whatever it was that happened earlier it wasn’t happening now. Good, she had time to get her thoughts in order, try to figure out what was going on. She flicked the switch on the kettle and started rooting through the kitchen cupboards to find that box of herbal tea bags she still hadn’t opened yet.

As Ruth waited for the kettle to boil, she realised she had been unconsciously tugging her fingers, testing each one in turn. She held her hand up and examined it. At first glance it looked exactly how she had expected: her nails were suffering from the rigours of her job and a lack of care; there was still a faded band of flesh where her wedding ring used to be. But it was when she looked closely at the joints of her fingers that she noticed that something had changed.

Back in Secondary School, some twelve or so years ago, Ruth had bruised the top joint of her left index finger when she had caught a netball awkwardly. It had soon healed, but ever since then the gap just beneath the nail had been slightly swollen compared to its opposite number. That is, until today. Bizarrely, Ruth’s finger had straightened itself out, finally after all these years.

The doorbell rang before Ruth got the chance to sit at the breakfast table and enjoy her tea. The only people who ever called at this time of day were salesmen. She’d already been asked if she’d consider changing her windows and her gas supplier in the last month alone. Reluctantly, Ruth marched through the clutter of her hallway to the front door, tea still in hand. Unusually for her, a nervous doubt made her put the chain on before opening the door.

Through the tiny gap Ruth eyed her caller. He’d been facing away from the door, only turning in response to the sound of it opening. Ruth recognised him at once - the bleached blond hair, the nose ring, the denim jacket over the rumpled cotton shirt.

‘Ruthie? It is Ruthie, isn’t it? Can we talk? Please?’

It was the young masseur from the gym at work. Ruth’s first instinct was to slam the door shut and hide, but the hot tea in her hand made her hesitate long enough for her to catch herself. He’d been there when it had happened earlier today. Was she embarrassed that he’d seen her? Was she angry that he hadn’t done anything to help? Finally, the fact that he was here, that he must have made the effort to track her down made her realise something.

‘You made it happen, didn’t you?’ she yelled at him. The masseur winced. Now, to Ruth, the chain on the door was protecting him from her anger. She quickly unhooked it and flung the door open.

‘What did you do to me?’ she demanded.

‘Can I come in? I’ll explain everything, I promise.’

Ruth considered this. What she really wanted to do was thump him and send him packing. But if she did she would never get to the bottom of the weirdness that had occurred that afternoon. And it had seemed such a good idea at the time.

Ruth worked as an engineer at Riverside FM, the commercial radio station that served her hometown. She was responsible for a number of the shows broadcast from there, her day a long parade of knobs, buttons and cables from dawn to the middle of the afternoon. It wasn’t too tough, but the hours did take it out of her. She was never good company at the end of the day, especially on the frequent occasions when an outside broadcast or special event had her working overtime. A few years back, when Riverside was bought out by a conglomerate that owned a number of stations nationwide, there had been vague promises that working practices would be changed for the better. These promises had yet to be fulfilled, but other changes around the workplace had come to pass. One of these was the building of an exclusive gym and sauna for the use of station employees. Ruth had never been a keep-fit fanatic, but after a particularly gruelling day the thought of a massage to help untangle the knots of her too-tense muscles appealed to her greatly. 

Considering how wound up she felt now, she wished she had never gone.

‘My name’s Stuart, by the way,’ said the masseur.  ‘Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little stressed out.’ He was only tiny, his slight figure in danger of being consumed by the soft cushions of Ruth’s sofa. The way he was cowering from Ruth as she towered over him threateningly, that might have been something he’d welcome, somewhere comfortable and warm where he could hide. Ruth’s piercingpiecing glare made it clear that this wasn’t an option.

‘You are unbelievable,’ barked Ruth. ‘What are you doing? Touting for business?’ She began violently pacing up and down the living room carpet, her sudden burst into motion causing Stuart to flinch.

Stuart sat up, his attempt to assert himself losing something as he slid further back into the sofa. ‘Now wait a minute! I came here of my own free will because I wanted to help. I thought you might be a little - I don’t know - weirded out but what happened in the treatment room. I know I was.’

This caught Ruth unaware. She stared at Stuart, earning another flinch for her efforts. He was more nervous than she was. He might’ve known what was going to happen, but he’d still been knocked for six when it did. A yelling match wasn’t going to help either of them. Ruth took a deep breath and tried to take the anger out of her voice.

‘Okay - Stuart? - Stuart, why don’t you tell me if I’m going mad, or did I actually turn into a human elastic band this afternoon?’

À SUIVRE…