Ruby Goes to Town

I was leaving the veterinary clinic yesterday. This feral cat viral conjunctivitis thing is wearing me down. Obi Wan, the remaining kitten from the Star Wars rescue litter, is still fighting the universe over the health of his left eye. It is so much better, and no longer in danger of needing to be removed, but to bid Obi a fond farewell and see him into his new life, we gotta get that eye spic ‘n span. Hence, I was leaving the vet with another 10-day supply of not inexpensive, specially compounded antiviral meds when I heard the unmistakable sound of a car backing into my own vehicle. Crunch. It made a crunch; in case you needed an onomatopoeia.

Her name was Ruby. That’s what I have named her for the purposes of this story, at least. While my instinct was to cry, pray, then call my husband, I soon found myself face to face with the villain who hit my car. The scene played out calmly. I studied my bumper. No discernable damage. Ruby, a likely octogenarian, wondered if I could show her the car she’d hit so she could leave a note for the person. I stood up and faced her. She wore a light blue striped seersucker blouse and white slacks. Her stark white hair was cut in a jaunty bob. Her bubble gum pink nails were polished to match her lipstick. “Oh,” I said. “It was me you hit.” Ruby wondered aloud if it were really my car she had struck when backing out of her parking spot. Perhaps it had been the car next to me instead. “No ma’am,” I stated firmly yet sweetly. “It was me. Of that, I am sure.” I still couldn’t find any damage at all. My husband, who joined us via Facetime, also couldn’t find any damage. Ruby and I sat about the task of exchanging pertinent info, just in case damage materialized later on, as damage often does. That’s when Ruby, the unlikely villain with clip on sunglasses over her spectacles, surprised me.

“Dear,” she said in a shaky voice, “are you a woman of faith?” I was taken aback. “Ma’am?” I said. Ruby continued, “What I mean to say is - are you a believer?” Mind you, my brain was still in shock from realizing that my new to me used car, my baby for only a few months, had been struck down in her prime in a veterinary parking lot at a strip mall. For a moment, I translated her question into the 60s song by The Monkees: I’m a believer/I couldn’t leave her if I tried. Next, I thought of Justin Bieber and his fan base, the Beliebers. My heart was begging me to listen, but my brain was laughing hysterically. Ruby pressed on. “Do you believe in Jesus, dear?” I stopped cold in my tracks. “Ruby,” I said. “It takes a lot of nerve to back into someone’s car then stand in a parking lot and ask them about Jesus!” For the first time in our encounter, Ruby looked scared. I continued. “Ruby, I’m proud of you, impressed even! I often struggle with public faith pronouncements and you just slayed that one!” She smiled.

The two of us stood in a parking lot, one of us the accidental aggressor, the other a startled victim. We talked about where we live in Forney, our churches, our lives. Ruby is a widow of many years, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys that life. She lost her grandchild recently. She finds it hard to comfort her daughter when she is grieving so badly, too. I told her about my daughter and how my mother and I finally found that balance, that common ground, only for me to lose mom to Alzheimer’s. I wrapped one arm around this sweet woman, then the other. I felt her sigh into my shoulder, the ragged breath of tension smoothing out. I smelled the distinct scent of Chanel No 5. I got into my car as Ruby walked down the sidewalk and into the nail salon. “Wait,” I said to myself. “I thought she was leaving. Isn’t that how she backed into me to begin with?” During that contemplation, my phone rang. The hubs thought of a million other things I needed to check on before I left the scene. So, I sat there, him saying test this and try that and check these. I went on about my afternoon, though Ruby stayed close in my thoughts, like a seersucker flag flying softly in the back of my mind. It is odd, the people we run into when we least expect. What a blessing they can be.