All Over Again - Chapter 19: Chapter 19

"Ruth," Shantelle snapped into the phone.
"Yeah, mom?" Ruth mumbled, her gaze preoccupied with the words on her screen.
Shantelle hated when Ruth was distracted. She always commanded her complete attention if they were to talk on the phone like a drill sergeant for the army. But with it being a Friday night and Ruth finishing her homework early for the weekend, she thought she could turn her attention to her story for a bit. She was on a time crunch after all.
"Ruth Semple are you listening to me?"
"Yes mom, I'm listening," Ruth sighed.
"Don't give me that fucking tone, young lady," she warned, her tone dark. "I sent you out there and I can bring you right the hell back."
Ruth closed her eyes. "I'm not-"
"I asked you a question before you ignored me."
"I'm sorry, mom. I swear I'm not trying to ignore you. I'm just in the middle of a big homework assignment," she lied.
Shantelle huffed out, her voice increasing with irritation. "You bring up those grades?"
Ruth frowned, but filled her in on the chemistry test she passed and the lab report grade until her mother was satisfied enough with what she heard. Shantelle said little of anything else except to ask how her cousins were doing as roommates. She liked the girls well enough, but when she called, she only worried about Ruth and what Ruth had going on. No one else mattered to her except Koi Semple.
Whatever life Shantelle had grown up with, she wanted to leave it far behind. Including the people in it.
By the time the phone call ended, and after Ruth said hello to her dad, she felt an overwhelming tightness of exhaustion in her chest. Shantelle had sniped out all of her energy, per usual, and now she didn't even have the will to write anymore for the night. Rubbing at her temple, Ruth was about to throw herself across her bed, eager to relax the stress in her twitching eyeball, when her phone buzzed again on the desk. She mentally groaned, wondering what the hell her mom could want now. Didn't she already accomplish making her feel like shit?
Griping to herself, she picked up her phone and looked at the screen.
Ruth sat up straighter in her chair, her heart suddenly leaping into the base of her throat. An excitement flooded through her fingertips as she quickly unlocked her phone and peered closely at the image Raffo, or Sasquatch as his contact said in her phone, had sent to her.
Though they talked Wednesday, she hadn't heard from him since. No text, no call, no randomly running into one another. Nothing. She didn't mind it, though. She knew he was busy with his double major and her with her own shit going on. But that didn't mean she wouldn't periodically think about him and hope he'd put her number to good use soon.
And that moment made it all worth it.
Because the message he sent to her was a picture of him holding his guitar on a bed with the words:
Sasquatch: U already know how night five is going.
Ruth's heart fluttered at the picture of him, and she took a creepy moment to herself to glance over his photo. Beautiful silks of hickory fell across his chiseled face, having slipped out of the half-up, half-down knot behind his head, and the tips of the shorter pieces dipped into pools of liquid brown. He wasn't smiling in the photo, instead grimacing slightly to show his exhaustion, and his eyebrows were raised. Her gaze tried not to fixate on the bronze skin stretched out underneath his white tank top. Despite being tired, he still naturally looked amazing.
But she knew what him playing the guitar meant. Raffo was having a rough night with withdrawals and needed a distraction to prevent himself from smoking something. Well, two distractions if he texted her. She successfully pushed away the pleasure at knowing he reached out to her instead of someone else, convincing herself that he was having a rough time right now and she needed to be there for him.
Ruth: Yikes, looks pretty rough. What song are you gonna play?
Ruth's nail nudged itself between her clenched teeth in anticipation. He responded two minutes later.
Sasquatch: Not a damn clue
A smile ghosted over her lips, faint and sweet.
Ruth: Is this you asking for some suggestions? Cuz if so, I have a ton
Sasquatch: Fire away
Ruth: Wait- quick question before I do
Sasquatch: Shoot
Ruth took a deep breath, nervousness jittering in her typing fingers. She had nothing better to do that night anyway, and the thought of seeing Raffo play the guitar tore away at her more than she'd like. Can you blame a girl for being curious?
Ruth: Does this mini concert get to have a mini audience? They're my song choices, so I feel like it's only fair ya know😌
There was a longer pause this time, as Raffo didn't answer right away. Nor did he answer within the next five minutes, and Ruth spent that whole time internally freaking out for being so bold. The wheels in her mind were turning and turning until she overcooked a thought for too long and burned what little confidence she had away. How could she be so stupid? Who was she to force her compa-
Her phone buzzed.
She held her breath and glanced down at the screen.
Sasquatch: Meet at the hoops in thirty? Bring your writing too
She breathed a sigh of relief.
Ruth: See you there, Sas
The night was cooler that evening, despite how warm it was that entire day, so Ruth hadn't thought twice about throwing on a hoodie to go with her leggings. Before she left, she briefly wondered if she should do something with her hair since she had no desire to put on any makeup, but she decided stuffing her unruly curls in a messy bun would have to do, completing her casual look.
It was just Raffo, anyway. She didn't have to put in any effort if she didn't want to. She shouldn't want to. It wasn't like she ever cared about her looks before . . . so why would she then?
Ruth spotted Raffo immediately after parking her car in the dark lot across the way. Sitting on top of a picnic table with his back curved to her from bending over to tune the acoustic guitar, he looked beautiful under the gleam of the white street lamp. Streaks of silver from the moon flashed like lightning along the bronze ripples of his skin, his tank top showing off the taunt muscle she rarely got to see from him. The navy blue sky practically had her believing his hair was opal, though the twinkling of the stars confirmed this to be impractical, as they flashed across the chestnut in his strands.
When she glanced down at the time on her phone, she realized he must have gotten there early enough to set up and be comfortable because she was actually five minutes early. Granted, he must not have lived far if his sister had walked over by herself, but it was still comforting to know that he wasn't late. Waiting for him in the dark wouldn't have been fun.
It didn't take long for Raffo to look up at her nearing presence. The moon must have fallen in love with him, for the sight of his features nearly blew her away. It didn't matter that his black eye was still healing, though the bruising was more yellow and slight brown than dark purple now. That man could start wars with a face like that. With his Cupid's bow lips, sharp cheekbones, and dark eyes framed by elongated lashes.
He nodded at her when she sat on the bench below him and stilled his movements on his guitar, as well as the restlessness in his moving legs. Now that she was closer, she could see how well loved his instrument was. With only a few scratches on the body, there seemed to be nothing else wrong with the aging thing. She wasn't sure how long he'd had it for, but it looked like it must have been awhile at least.
"Hey," he murmured first, watching her get settled as she chose to straddle the bench instead so she could get a better view. Her laptop was tucked safely under her arms.
"Hey yourself. Nice guitar," she complimented.
He gingerly caressed the neck, his gaze lightyears away as he stared unseeingly at the instrument. "Thanks . . . a̲ Svpokni gave it to me a few years ago."
There was a rough longing in his voice at the mention of his grandmother that made Ruth frown to herself. Though she could obviously sense there was more to it than that, she knew he was in no state to be pushed for curious answers. He wanted a distraction and she was already doing a shitty job of it even though she barely said four words to the guy. She needed to spin this around somehow. Find a common ground again.
"Looks like you kept it in great condition for her," Ruth murmured, and when his gaze flew over to look at her, she saw that he knew.
An emotion full of understanding passed between the both of them, their relation with grief intertwining them together in a club no one ever wanted to be a part of. But at least neither were alone in that, and they found a sense of comfort in it. He didn't need to explain, and neither did she.
Raffo strummed his fingers over the strings softly to warm up, his eyes falling to Ruth's laptop instead. Something close to tenderness played on his features at the sight of it and she knew if she didn't suggest moving onto his music now, she'd want to just stare at him all night. And she'd rather die than embarrass herself like that.
"So what songs can you play? Should I stick with slower stuff?" Ruth asked, clearing her throat.
Raffo shrugged his broad shoulders, an easy smile touching the corners of his lips. "Anything you want."
She pursed her lips. "Even Elton John?"
"You don't want me to play your favorite song?"
"You remember what it is?"
"Of course," he scoffed. "I haven't forgotten."
Butterflies took flight in the pit of her stomach and she had to bite the corner of her lip to keep from smiling too wide. "I'll save that one for a rainy day. I think I know what I want you to play."
He rose an eyebrow, but nodded his head anyway, encouraging her to continue.
"I want "Your Song" by Elton John."
Raffo's lips twitched in amusement, but he didn't question it. Instead, he fixed the guitar's body on his lap so it rested a little better against his chest, balancing the instrument on his right thigh. His fingers worked the tuning keys to get them exactly where he wanted them and hunched just the slightest over the tan body.
Before he could even warn her, he began to play.
And much to her surprise, he started to sing along with it too.
Ruth wasn't sure what she was expecting, but surely his deep voice caressing the words perfectly wasn't it. She was transfixed the moment his fingers brushed the strings, the sound duplicating Elton John's piano with a strung instrument, so when he sang to her . . . she flew with the wind.
She transcended to a place between space and time.
His voice, soft as a feather and deep as a drum, pushed her further and further away, his singing raw and beautiful. So beautiful that she didn't understand how Elton John could reclaim this song as his own after hearing Raffo Leflore take it away. Though he kept his gaze trained on his guitar, her insides were tearing to shreds, unintentionally imagining that he was singing it for her than to her.
His coos were haunting:
And you can tell everybody
This is your song
It may be quite simple
But now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is
While you're in the world
Ruth's chest ached. Though he never told her that he was much into performing or that he'd be interested in pursuing a career as a professional musician, she knew he could make it if he wanted to. Raffo's talent didn't deserve to be bottled up for the world to ignore. He could break barriers as an Indigenous artist, and Ruth wanted that desperately for him.
He was too amazing. When he sung to you, he really sung to you. Every puncture of a lyric hit your soul like a fly on a windshield; sudden and all at once.
Periodically, she'd find herself staring at his throat as he sang, watching it bob with each soft word. He made sure to keep no part of his voice or guitar out of tune, landing each part of the song flawlessly.
So excuse me forget
But these things I do
You see I've forgotten
If they're brown, or they're blue
He glanced up from his guitar strings long enough to hold her eye, his expression as soft as his voice. He gauged her reaction, watching as her gaze widened at the intentional changing of the lyrics, and before he could stop it, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Anyway, the thing is
What I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes, I've ever seen
Ruth's smile was wide and dazzling, rivaling diamonds and stars.
Though Ruth barely noticed it, Raffo's fingers faltered for half a second. But he still continued on like it never happened, watching her as he sang the last quarter of her request.
Much sooner than Ruth had wanted, the song came to a close.
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is
While you're in the world.
His fingers strummed out the last bit of the chorus, their eyes locked on one another securely.
There was a brief moment of silence.
A static tension flittered in the air around them and a warm buzzing that lit her body to life from the inside out. She tried to blink away the ringing of quietness in her ears, but found nothing could ever do again. Not after hearing the sound of his soothing voice and missing the fine sound of an acoustic guitar.
She tried hard to focus on saying something to him, needing him to know how amazing it was. How perfect he sounded, how incandescently raw he looked, and how badly she wanted him to keep singing to her. For the rest of forever would be a good start.
"Wow," Ruth finally breathed, awe slipping into her voice. She couldn't even be embarrassed about it either. Not when he offered her such a wonderful performance of one song. One song that he gave an entire new meaning and appreciation to. "That was really good."
The corner of his lip quirked up at the compliment, his eyes trailing along the contours of her beaming face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I mean, I don't even think good covers it. You were phenomenal," she admitted, a warmth spreading throughout her body. Though she didn't compliment people often, she thought he definitely deserved it. That was . . . just . . . everything.
Much to her surprise, his smile stretched out wide enough to touch the other corner of his lip that time, a shy gleam glazing over his eyes. They sparkled like crystals, glittering in stones of dark citrine as he stared at her with a kind of softness that made her teeth clench. His fingers strummed the guitar during their stare off, stroking the chords with a light touch, and once again, she was hypnotized by him.
Something comfortable simmered within those dark flecks, and she watched as tension eased from his body. No longer did he seem jittery or antsy. He had achieved exactly what he came to the basketball court to do, and she was glad she could be there for it. She couldn't even remember life before hearing Raffo sing.
She hadn't realized the two of them were shifting a little closer, their faces moving and eyes blinking, until she took in a deep breath of air to focus. His alluring stature made her delirious, and she needed to get a damn handle on herself if she wanted the night to last a little longer.
"Raff, you can really go far with that. Singing, I mean," she added.
Raffo's eyes sparkled at the new nickname, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he offered a small chuckle. "Be the next one-man Redbone?"
Ruth shrugged her shoulders, laughing lightly with him. "Why not? You'd have made Lolly Vegas proud."
Though she could tell he appreciated the compliment, his smile dimmed a little, his gaze unseeing as he glanced back down at his grandmother's guitar. "It's just a hobby. To be a musician, you'd have to be able to leave, be flexible in changing who you are, and be comfortable in the light. I can't do any of those things."
"You can't leave Oklahoma?" Ruth questioned, frowning.
A shadow passed over his face. "No, I can't."
Why? Ruth wanted to ask, but didn't. The word burned on her tongue and she knew it would haunt her until she knew the answer. But she didn't like the sudden shift in mood and wanted to work back towards carefree Raffo who just shared a part of him with her.
"Well, I think you did Lolly proud, anyway. And I trust him with music, so you have my vote of being a star already," Ruth said, smiling and hoping. Hoping that she didn't fuck up again tonight and he'd loosen back up to her.
It worked.
Raffo's wide grin mirrored hers. "Yakoke, Semple."
"Anytime, Leflore."
And she truly meant that.
Raffo's eyes fell on her laptop and he nudged his head in the direction of it. "So you gonna tell me about this first place story or what?"
The rest of Ruth's heart crumbled. And just like that she spent the next few hours going over what she had so far, reading off a few bits she was proud of and critiquing what she wanted to get rid of. Raffo quietly listened the entire time, giving her his full attention after putting his guitar down. Though her cheeks would warm occasionally, not used to someone staring so intently at her as she read and explained the developments of her story since they last spoke about it. But she listened to his input, jotting down a couple of his ideas to fix any plot holes and asked if he needed more background on any of the characters.
Neither of them were ready for their night to end just yet, but they knew it had too once the hours got too long. So Raffo swung his guitar over his shoulder with the strap resting close to his neck and twisted his hip to crack his back. Ruth ignored the patch of bronze skin that peaked out from under his shirt and stood up as well with her laptop under her arm.
"You don't have to walk me to my car, by the way," she said for the third time. "There's no one around this late and it's just right over-"
"No," he finalized, his gaze firm as he regarded her. "No matter where you are, Ruth, you should be careful walking by yourself. Especially this late."
"I took jiu jitsu a few years back," she tried to interject playfully. He was still frowning. "I can take care of myself."
"Ruth . . . "
"Really, Raffo. It's okay."
She didn't get it.
Raffo breathed out roughly. His hand fell to the skin behind his neck underneath his hair and rubbed at the area harshly.
"Look, Ruth, I get what you're saying. And I'm more than sure that you could take care of yourself," his lips twitched, but the frown ultimately won out as he gestured towards her car. Sighing softly, Ruth led the way to the car and allowed him to continue talking. "We're living in a shitty world where it shouldn't be this way. You shouldn't need anyone to walk you to your car no matter what time of day it is . . . but you, Ruth, especially shouldn't-"
Raffo stopped talking to recuperate his thoughts, taking a breath again. An emotion that Ruth couldn't register flashed across his vision when she turned to look at him and he stuffed his hands into his pockets as if he hated talking about his emotions. He didn't like letting people in, Ruth knew that from the girls.
But she appreciated when he would occasionally let her in, especially as of lately.
"You're a blend of the two most missing women in America," he finally forced out. "I don't want you to be another statistic, another native woman who they don't search for. Even knowing jiu jitsu you never know if someone is just as strong as you are or if they aren't alone."
His voice hardened, anger easily slipping between his clenched teeth. Though Ruth knew he hated being vulnerable, she saw him struggle to lower his guard enough for his worry to ring a bell in her head. And though he struggled getting it out, she completely understood what he was trying to say. And as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. It was dangerous to be Indigenous and/or Black in America, especially without the media to cover the disappearances. The chances of getting a detective to care about their cases enough to solve them was slim, and having the nation search for her if anything were to happen was even slimmer.
Raffo was right. They were living in a shitty world where you shouldn't need to feel so alert walking to your car. But until the world sends all the creeps to a deserted island to fend for themselves, it will always be that way.
And for times like now, she appreciated that he was thinking of her in that way.
"I'm just saying I don't want to see your face on the news unless it's because you're getting a movie deal for your book after you win," Raffo finally finished, sending her a private smile to soften the severity of his words.
Ruth's chest tightened at the care in his voice and she grinned back. "Fair. Alright, Raff. I promise I'll limit myself from walking alone at night."
"Think you can try to limit it to not at all?" he teased, though she could hear a bit of hope and seriousness behind the question.
"Don't know about that," she admitted. "But I'll try."
"Good."
Once they got to her car, she looked up at him and offered to give him a ride. He declined politely and pointed off into the nearby neighborhood with his forefinger. "I live close by. I'm good walking home."
"You sure?" she frowned.
"I'm sure. You should get going before it gets too late. Drivers get nuts around here."
She mentally agreed. Some of the drivers there were unbelievable.
"Okay . . . well, um- thank you for tonight, Raffo," Ruth said, stuffing her hands into her sweater pocket. She needed that night more than she'd like to admit. "For the song, listening to me talk your ear off, all of it. I'm really glad you texted me to meet up."
Raffo nodded his head, his smile tender. "Thanks for coming last minute. You're lame ass plan seems to be working."
They both shared a hearty laugh as she winked. By the time they were done chuckling, they were both smiling at each other like idiots. A rare sight for Ruth, but she enjoyed it all the same.
"But seriously. Thank you," he told her, the corner of his lip slipping into his mouth. He watched her intently, like there were words on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to get out, but he couldn't figure out how to do it. Or maybe she was just reading too much into it.
Either way, Raffo Leflore was an absolute dream. Especially when he reached out a hand towards hers and gave her fingers a supporting squeeze. She almost choked on her spit when he let her go as the spark of warmth left with it.
"Anytime, Raff," she finally forced out, clearing her throat. "Really."
Slowly, Raffo retreated from her car, his gaze stuck on her and her brilliant smile. The warmth in his expression was something she was barely getting used to from him, but she damn well hoped it would stay there forever. "Chi pisa la chike."
"Chi pisa la chike," she called out, lifting her hand in a quick wave before climbing into her car before she embarrassed herself any longer.
Oh my gosh, Ruth thought to herself, leaning back against the headrest as she groaned quietly. What the hell, Ruth. What the actual hell.