Chapter Text
It’s a hard habit to break: Ruth’s automatic assumption that Debbie is trying to hurt her, either intentionally or unintentionally. She knows Debbie is actively working on that right now, and of course it’s not going to be an immediate fix. Neither of them do easy ; it’s probably a big part of why they’re so drawn to each other.
And, god, it’s not like Ruth is ready to proclaim to the world that she’s…whatever she is. The fact that she can’t even name it for herself says a lot. Bobby told her she was part of his community now, but she’s not sure she believes it.
That said, she is kind of prepared to tell the world that she’s into, specifically, Debbie Eagan, and that Debbie Eagan is into her—because, goddamn, who wouldn’t want to brag about that? She knows Debbie’s not wrong about the fact that making what’s really going on between them public could, at best, put them on shaky ground professionally, and, at worst, could actively be dangerous.
Still, she can’t shake the feeling, from the moment that Debbie yanked her in from the hallway, that the other woman is ashamed to be seen with her. Debbie’s Debbie, and Ruth’s Ruth. And she knows that, beside Debbie, she strikes an unimpressive figure: a hot blonde TV star and a mousy brunette theater nerd. Is it just about the gay thing? Or is it about the fact that Ruth is, at least at first glance, anything but a catch?
If she were a man, would Debbie still want to hide what was happening?
Ruth knows she could—and probably should—just ask Debbie directly, but she doesn’t know what the answer would be—and she’s not sure if she could deal with being nothing other than Debbie’s dirty little secret.
And she’s been forcing herself not to look at it head-on, but she can’t not have it at the back of her mind: Ruth’s in love. And she can’t remember the last time she felt that way. Maybe never. Debbie occupies so much of her thoughts; when she’s not around, Ruth’s constantly wondering what she’s doing, if she’s thinking of her; when she looks at Ruth, or even walks into a room, Ruth feels like her entire body is full of bees. And now that they’ve had sex, well. Ruth is screwed.
She thought she might have loved Russell; but now she knows she was fooling herself. He was someone she thought she should love: kind, patient, steady, smart, and clearly in love with her. And the simple feeling of being wanted, rather than just wanting, was intoxicating.
When she’d called him a few weeks ago to break things off, she felt cruel. But she knew she was doing the right thing. And, in classic Russell fashion, he’d been totally decent about the whole, which only made her feel shittier.
“What’s the use of being a dick about it? If you don’t love me the way I love you, then it’s just… It’s over.”
“I wish I did. I tried.”
“I know. I could see it. I guess I didn’t want to admit it to myself because…y’know.”
She could picture exactly what his face looked like on the other end of the line, a tight grimace lifting the corners of his mustache.
Alone in her room after that awkward farewell with Debbie, Ruth thinks back on that conversation. At the time, it seemed kinder to lie to him about who she had feelings for. But now, she has the sudden desire to confess. She owes him that—the truth, freely given, rather than only when she’s found out.
Debbie said she didn’t want to tell anyone else what was going on between them, but, well. Russell already guessed anyway.
He picks up on the second ring.
“Hey! It’s uh, it’s Ruth,” she says, too brightly.
“Hey, yourself,” he says. He sounds guarded, but not angry. (Unlike every other disaster person she’s gotten involved with in her life, Russell never gets angry.)
“How… How are you?”
“I’m okay, I guess. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Or, y’know, maybe ever.”
“Russell, I. I don’t want to cut you out of my life, unless you want that. And probably after what I’m about to tell you, you will. But I think I should tell you.”
“Well, this sounds like it’s gonna be a super fun conversation.”
She decides to just say it, before she chickens out. “You know when you asked if there was someone else, and I said yes, but that it wasn’t anyone you know? I lied.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “The suspense is killing me, Ruth.”
“You were right when you said that, uh…” Her voice is shaking, but she has to get through this. “It’s Debbie.”
“Oh,” he says. “Ohhhhh.”
The next part comes out in a rush. “We kissed. Or she kissed me? But I kissed her back. And I think it would’ve gone further, but then we snapped out of it and stopped.”
“When was this?”
“Like, three days before I broke up with you. God, I’m such an asshole.” She lets out a long breath. “You can yell at me now.”
There’s a terrible pause before he says, “You’re not an asshole.”
“Of course I am! I’m a serial cheater.” (She’d told him about the whole Mark situation last year, after they’d been on a few dates.)
Russell sighs heavily. “I mean, I’m not saying I love that this happened, but. Look, I’ve got a few gay friends, and I know what they’ve been through. That stuff is hard as shit.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Yeah. People confide in me. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a pretty good guy.”
“Fuck, Russell. You’re, like, the best guy.”
“Kind of hilarious, coming from the woman who just broke up with me, but. Thanks. Anyways, I get it if you didn’t realize you were into her until it was, y’know, right in your face.”
“You’re not mad?” she asks.
“I mean, yeah. Of course I am. A little. But that doesn’t mean you’re, like, a shitty person.” He pauses, then adds, “If it had been Sam, then I would *actually* be mad.”
“If it had been Sam, you’d have my permission to fly up to Vegas and do an intervention.”
They share a laugh at this. Then Russell, wonderful Russell, says, “So… Did it end up going anywhere? With you and Debbie?”
“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” she says.
“Ruth. I’m asking.”
“Okay, then. Yeah. It did. It is. Which is…so crazy? It’s been an uphill climb, but we got to a good place a couple days ago, and…I think we’re both really giving this a go.”
“Wow. So it’s going well?”
“Yeah. But it’s all really new. And we’re both really scared about—her more than me—about anyone finding out. So we’ve had to kinda sneak around.”
“No one else knows?”
“Well…a few people. We’ve both been such fucking disasters these last couple weeks, it was hard to keep it a total secret. But, y’know. People we trust. And…I hope you know I trust you, Russell. I think maybe you’re the only completely non-shitty man I’ve ever met. Well, straight man, at least.”
“I’m gonna get that put on a T-shirt: ‘The only completely non-shitty man I’ve ever met, raves my ex,’” he quips. “Should be a big hit with the ladies.”
“They should be so lucky,” Ruth says with a laugh. “I’m gonna let you go now. But. Thank you. And I’m sorry. Again.”
“Take care, okay? And look me up next time you’re in L.A. There’s, like, a 40% chance I’ll be over you by then.”
After she puts her phone down, Ruth reclines in her bed and considers: If, after all she’s put him through recently, Russell still thinks Ruth isn’t a horrible person? Maybe it’s time she starts believing it herself.