All Over Again - Chapter 30: Chapter 30

Ruth was late.
Ruth was late and she was never late. Not with school, not with her assignments, not even with her damn period. She hated the very idea of having tardiness on her conscious, especially if it was at the expense of other peoples time. If she hated it, then she was nearly positive that other people do just as much as she was.
But her nervousness led to the delay of waking up on time which led to a quick shower, a small slap of natural make-up, and an onslaught of fear. Fear that she looked too casual, fear that she didn't put on enough make-up, fear that she didn't—
She paused.
That she didn't . . . that she would never look Indigenous enough. That she wouldn't look like she belonged, that someone there would make her feel inadequate like the Willow girl did at the bonfire.
Should she have straightened her hair? Were her beaded earrings noticeable enough? Would they care that her lips were bigger? Her hair curlier?
Maybe she shouldn't go . . .
"Ruth, you're making me a fucking nervous wreck," Jana laughed, interrupting Ruth's self-deprecating thoughts. She nudged her with her shoulder to bring her back down to earth and offered up a grape from her bowl. "Didn't you say it wasn't a date?"
"It's not a date," Ruth admitted, biting her lip. "I don't know why I'm so damn nervous. I mean, I haven't been to a powwow in a long time; llet alone with a boy."
Jana snorted. "What are you, 12? Also, isn't he here?"
"Yeah, he got here a few minutes ago."
"Then why the hell are you still standing here?" Jana blanched, nearly choking on her grape. "You telling me that sexy ass man is waiting on you while you stand here eating fucking grapes? Ruth, can you at least act like you have some sense."
Ruth's gaze fell to her knee length black dress and black booties, wondering if she should have went with something else. They matched her medicine wheel-colored earrings perfectly fine, and the thin, beaded belt that synched her mid section. Is it all too revealing? Should she have gone with jeans and a tank top instead?
"Ruth," her cousin said, sternly.
She hesitantly looked up from her black booties.
"You look beautiful. You always do, there's no reason to be nervous about what you're wearing," Jana said, grabbing her hand and giving it a loving squeeze. "Raffo's never given anyone the kind of attention he gives you, not even his hoe ass exes or Mirana. So, believe me when I say that I'm 90% sure he'd still like you even if you walked out in a trash bag."
"Wait—just 90%?"
"Time to get going, Ruthie!" Terry interrupted loudly, pushing her towards their front door. Alarmed, Ruth snatched her purse and cell phone off the couch on the way out. "Don't forget to keep me updated! And remind Raffo that if anything happens to you, I'll call on the strength of every foreauntie and beat his ass."
"What the hell is a—"
"I switched out forefather with foreauntie because aunties can be fucking scarier. Now get the hell out of my house," she opened the door, shoved Ruth out, said she loved her, and then locked the front door on the other side.
Ruth stifled a groan. Before she could talk herself out of going and make Raffo wait any longer, she made her way down the stairs and over to the parking lot. He had texted her exactly five minutes before that he was waiting and to take her time coming down. He probably didn't expect her to take it so literally, but she was really nervous about doing something so publicly with him while she was mentally going through an identity crisis. She couldn't help that she needed extra time in the sanctity of her apartment until she was ready enough to come out.
Unfortunately, and fortunately, Jana made the decision for her.
She made Raffo wait long enough for her.
It wasn't a date, she looked fine in some of her best outfit choices, and this was going to be like any other hang out her and Raffo had. They hung out at school and the courts, right? So this shouldn't be any different.
This is not a date, this is not a date, Ruth kept reminding herself. She just needed to remember that and then everything else will be fine.
She spotted Raffo's sky blue pickup truck easily. She had seen it a few times before at school and though it was an earlier 2000 model, it looked really good. Raffo driving it made it look even better in her opinion, but it was an opinion that she'd rather keep to the grave than tell him. His ego was big enough without her adding more flare to it.
When she approached the passenger side of the door, she pulled on the handle and was immediately greeted with his familiar, intoxicating scent. Her body relaxed at the comforting woodsy spice, reminding her that no matter what would happen at the powwow, that Raffo was still here, caring for her despite not knowing everything about their culture. That he didn't care about blood quantum because he genuinely enjoyed her. It wasn't Mirana or Johnny or Eddie he asked to come with him. It wasn't even Willow or Jana or Terry, who he was friends with.
He asked her. And when he turned his head to greet her, she took a mental screenshot of his face, saving his smothering surprise to memory.
"Well damn, aiukli," he smiled, his brown eyes alight with warmth. Her cheeks were practically on fire as she shyly slid into the passenger seat. "You look amazing."
"Really? You don't think it's too much? I'm sure most people are dressing more casual than this," she babbled, fingering the hem of her dress.
"It's not too much," he reassured her, dismissing her concerns. "Look at me, I probably look even more formal."
He was wearing a buttonup dark gray shirt with the sleeves rolled over his forearms neatly and a pair of casual jeans per usual. His medallion seemed to work well with the color, and the spilling of his hair over most of his chest and shoulders completed his look.
"Okay, you look a little formal," she admitted with a giggle. "But a really good formal. Like really good."
The familiar cocky grin almost made her rescind the compliment—not that he'd let her take it back after she was so open about it.
"Please don't ruin it," she groaned before he could.
He laughed loudly over the roar bringing his truck to life. She asked him why he was in such formal wear for a casual day, not suspecting anything of it. But the shift in his seat and the clench of his hands on the steering wheel while he drove surprised her almost as much as his answer did. Raffo never liked to talk about himself and his family, so the fact that he did so willingly, she didn't know what to think.
"My grandmother used to have me wear a dress shirt whenever we'd go to a powwow. It gave her an even bigger reason to show me off to her friends and their granddaughters," he chuckled, shaking his head. His tone was rougher with the memories filling his mind.
Used to.
"Your pokni," she recalled.
He spoke of her once before when he played his guitar because she was the one who had given it to him. Whoever his grandmother was, she was a key figure in his life and he still grieved her, just as she still grieved her grandfather. And the longing in his voice made her own heart ache.
Raffo nodded his head solemnly. His hand subconsciously reached up and rubbed at the medallion resting on his chest. "She was the one who taught me everything I know. Our language, our history, how to play the guitar to sing our songs, everything."
"Did she make you that?" Ruth asked softly, watching his thumb stroke over his necklace.
He didn't have to look down to know she was referring to his medallion. "That's why I wear it all the time. In memory of her."
So her observation was right.
"Sounds like she was an amazing woman," she admitted warmly.
"She was," he agreed, his voice tight. "I haven't been to a powwow since . . . well, I'm sure you know."
Since her passing.
"And how long ago was that?" she asked quietly. She didn't want to pry, but she wanted to know more about him. And this was part of it.
"Four years. I was seventeen."
She didn't like how sad his voice got and wanted to soothe him in any way she could. Watching other people grieve tore at her insides like a shredder with a block of cheese.
"I wish you got more time," she murmured, reaching over to wrap her fingers around his arm. "But I'm glad you got to have seventeen years worth of memories with her. It sounds like she was an incredible woman."
Raffo moved his hand from the medallion to place it over Ruth's, giving her fingers a light squeeze. "She was."
She didn't know why the next few words came rushing out of her mouth, perhaps a combination of not wanting him to be alone in his grief and wanting to get it out herself, she said what was on her mind.
"I lost my grandfather a year ago," she spoke up quietly. He looked over at her just as silent, and all she could muster was a small smile. His encouraging squeeze kept her going. "I didn't get the chance to make up for years of lost time like I wanted which makes grief just so . . . weird. You can mourn someone you had for years, a person you've seen a handful of times in your entire life, and maybe someone you didn't completely know. I mean, I saw him when I was younger, but my grief didn't make any sense to me for a long time."
"You loved him just as much as anyone can love another person. Pain shouldn't be measured," he murmured, switching hands so that he could grip her hand better. He pressed a generous kiss to her knuckles. "I wish you got more time too. So much more."
Their similarities and opposites may have been strangely coincidental, but it only brought a comfort to Ruth. To meet someone who understood her in more ways than one, and be able to relate to her level of reality. So when she smiled at him, there was more than one emotion there. Happiness, relief, sadness, and a blossoming infatuation that teetered on wanting to run deeper if given the time.
The rest of the drive was spent in a comfortable silence. They didn't talk much more for the sake of appreciating the quiet, but they listened to Redbone together and kept their hands clutched comfortably. Ruth's eyes would drift occasionally to Raffo, watching appreciatively as he drove with one hand on the steering wheel, his shoulders relaxed above his straightened back, and his thumb drifting over the back of her fingers absentmindedly. She took in everything, wanting it saved to that new memory file of hers. These were moments she never wanted to forget.
By the time they arrived to the grounds, Ruth was almost shocked by how busy it already was. Their luck with parking was slim, but after driving around for ten minutes, a car pulled out and they were able to pull in. Ruth's excitement at seeing the ceremonial dancers all dressed up was enough to have her ripping her hand out of Raffo's to bounce out the car.
His chuckle drowned somewhere behind her joy, and when they met each other at the back of his truck, a wild grin was stretched across her full lips. He ran his gaze over her again, eyes marveling her alluringly.
"Come on! What are we waiting for?" Ruth exclaimed anxiously. Before even thinking about whether or not it was a good idea, she gripped his hand in hers and dragged them forward.
They only made it a few feet before it registered in her mind what she was doing. She immediately dropped his hand in shock and turned around, eyeing him widely. Did she overstep already? "Sorry."
Raffo only shrugged. She didn't even have the chance to ask him if she could hold his hand before he leaned forward, slipping his fingers back between hers. "It's okay," he murmured.
Ruth's heart squeezed as she tightened his hand in hers. "Okay."
Holding hands and some kisses here and there never hurt anybody.
And when they finally arrived to the busy grounds, she was glad he was holding her hand. Well, more so relieved than glad, but the two go hand in hand. Because as soon as they arrived, beautiful women with raven colored braids, high cheekbones, and soft brown skin would swing their pretty eyes over to him. Even the mothers with their full families couldn't help a glance or two every so often, and though Ruth was sure of herself with him as her partner for the day, she still couldn't help the clench of uncertainty in the pit of her belly.
They were beautiful, in traditional wear or regalia's with such friendly smiles and heavy glances that she questioned her differences. She questioned the coil to her hair again, the curviness of her body, the lack of knowledge on certain traditions. She didn't know how to make her own regalia or know how to dance Fancy Shawl and the Jingle Dress Dance. Instead of having her hair braided up, her curls were cascaded in ringlets around her, untamed with gel or hairspray.
But it didn't matter.
Because Raffo still had eyes for her.
And only her.
"This place is—wow," Ruth breathed, gazing around at the different vendors, dancers, and food tables around them. The drumming chants of the elders weaved through her ears from the speakers above them, and somehow, they relaxed her.
"I can't believe I haven't been here in four years," Raffo said, shaking his head. He led them deeper into the crowd and stopped at different vendors to see what they were selling out of curiosity. A few of the people he knew from attending before with his grandmother flocked about him, excited to see the young man they hadn't seen in four years. One woman in particular who was selling beaded jewelry came barreling from behind the tent.
"Oh, Raffo! You've gotten so big!" An older woman with glasses and shoulder length gray hair cried at the second stop. Her feeble arms wrapped around his waist securely with no intention of letting go and he chuckled lightly, hugging her back as best as he could without dropping Ruth's hand.
"Still look the same, ain't it?" he grinned as she pulled back.
She quickly shook her head, dark eyes gleaming with happiness. Her hand pressed against his cheek affectionately, giving the skin a few pats. "It's so good to see you, honey. We been askin' where Koya's pretty boy's been at every year."
His smug glance in Ruth's direction made her fight to roll her eyes. She pinched his finger instead.
"Oh!" the lady exclaimed again, looking to Ruth and noting their obvious hand holding. Her smile was wide enough to reveal a silver tooth glittering on the side of her mouth, and the sight charmed Ruth. "And who is this?"
Raffo rose his eyebrow down at her, silently encouraging her to speak for herself. She jumped right on it, pleased that he was letting her do it herself.
"I'm Ruth," she greeted warmly. "Ruth Semple."
The woman beamed brightly and wrapped her up in a friendly hug, eager to meet a friend of Raffo's even if she didn't know who they were. The familiar scent of cedar and herbs wafted up into Ruth's nostrils, coaxing her into relaxing her shoulders and lightly hugging the woman back.
"You can call me Carrie. Raffo's grandmother and I were friends for a long time," she said, her smile dropping a little when she moved back. Her gaze fell back on Raffo's stiffened body, her head tilting. "You two eat yet?"
"Not yet," he admitted, shoulders easing. "We just got here."
"Oh," Carrie frowned. "Then what the hell you doing here for? Go out and enjoy yourselves! Get some frybread from Auntie Dee and find a place to watch the dancers on the grass. They look really good this year."
"Just wanted to see you first," he charmed, offering a smile that made even Ruth blush.
"Well come back and see me later before you two go," she urged.
After voicing their agreement and shuffling out quick 'see you later's', Raffo led Ruth away towards the Auntie Dee's NDN Taco stand. Auntie Dee was even cuter and older than Carrie, fussing about around Raffo and then Ruth right after. Their tacos were filled to the brim with traditional meat, beans, and toppings, before making they made their way to an empty spot on the grass. Women in colorful shawls had already begun their dance by the time they finished sitting down and getting situated.
Ruth was hypnotized by their foot work and how their shawls fanned out like eagle wings with the scoops and movements of their arms. She loved their perfect foot movement to the sound of the drums and wished she could dance like that. Her mother wasn't a First American, and even though her father was, he couldn't teach her to dance Fancy Shawl or how to dance the Jingle Dress Dance. Their move to California had only pushed her further away from who she was.
But being there, in that moment, only increased her appreciation for Raffo bringing her and allowing her to experience this with him. She hadn't been to a powwow in a long time, and he hadn't been in four years since his grandmother. They were the perfect duo for a nice day in the sun, eating delicious frybread tacos, and watching traditional dancing while listening to powerful chanting. The drums were a beautiful bonus.
She hadn't realized she had gobbled down all of her taco until she was reaching for another bite and came up empty. Frowning disdainfully, she placed her plate beside her.
"Good, huh?" Raffo asked amused. She looked over at him and found his plate to be empty too. "No one can make frybread like Auntie Dee."
"Yeah. It's almost as good as Victor's mom, I'm sure," Ruth grinned and Raffo mirrored it with a deep chuckle.
"You're probably right," he teased.
Falling back on his palms, he relaxed into the earth. His hair shimmered in the sun, his brown skin soaking in the warmth of the heat, and his biceps bulging mouthwateringly. They were sitting so close to each other, it wouldn't take much to just scoot over and rest against him. Just for a second while she let her food settle below her belt.
So she did.
It started with her scooting her shorter body over until their legs were flush against each other, laying stretched out before them, and then her head falling to his chest. Though Raffo jumped with surprise at first, he eventually relaxed and wrapped his arm securely around her, using his arm to support her back. His thumb on her waist relaxed her body enough to melt against his.
"You sure you don't mind this?" Ruth asked curiously, glancing up at him.
Much to her surprise, he turned his head and pressed his lips to her temple. "I don't mind."
Why did he have to be so fucking cute?