Oh Boy!

In the fortnight after Ruby inked her tattoo in '74, I went to the dentist. I remembered it because immediately I entered the waiting room, there loafed Ruby glaring at me, planted in the corner.

"Are you stalking me?" the brunette arched her eyebrows and interrogated as she folded her arms.

My hand covered my mouth.

Oh boy!

Ruby made me testy.

I rubbed my palms uncomfortably as we had crossed paths at two places already over the past week. Accidental meetings around town, though when she wisecracked stalking, she made me wonder if I stared at her on these occasions.

The previous week, I noticed her at a record shop where she looked relaxed, browsing the aisles solo. She didn't hang around when she noticed I started doing the same. It appeared she left promptly once she saw me; I suppose she had her reasons. Though as Ruby exited, she flipped a cocky wave in my direction.

The next day we met, I considered it even more random. Teenagers don't frequent garden nurseries, as a rule. My excuse, I followed a request from my dad to purchase plants for my mum's upcoming birthday. I entered the nursery holding a piece of paper to buy a primrose and a cream polyanthus. As I veered towards the garden centre's counter, I encountered Ruby leaving the nursery.

She cradled two small potted indoor ferns about stomach high, looking extremely pleased with herself. When caught off-guard, the minx raised them higher, peeping between them. I watched her high cheeks redden, the ferns swayed in her trembling hands, and her head lowered to avoid eye contact. We passed without a word.

In the dental waiting room, annoyed at Ruby's use of stalker, I flung myself down, making the chair wobble. I chose the seat as far as possible away from her. No other patients waited; Ruby and I were stationed at opposite corners.

The wall of dental hygiene posters failed to hold my interest as I desperately tried to avoid glancing at the minx. I peeped as the brunette leaned closer to the magazine table. For me to stand up, walk over and grab a magazine would have been akin to entering her territory. She reached out quickly, selecting the top periodical. I scrutinised her as she flicked through a National Geographic. The minx closed it with swift disinterest and tossed it across the coffee table.

"Stop chewing your nails," she admonished.

Ruby gave me attention — different from the sort I wanted.

"Bad habit!" she said.

Her voice amped up in her secondary assault.

I craved a magazine to hide my face. I stopped chewing; she shamed me to a halt. My hands - they embarrassed me. I eventually clasped them and sat them on my lap. I gathered enough composure not to dive them into my school pants. I didn't want the brunette joking about pocket billiards.

She verified her petiteness in her college uniform. I attempted straight shoulders into the high-backed plastic chair, my knees together. My fricking knees knocked, so I preferred to peep at Ruby's legs, her thighs simply together. Her legs appeared shorter out of jeans. No school grey hosiery; she detested the school stockings just like Coral.

Suddenly, she stretched her legs out and locked her hands behind her head.

"Why are you here?" she snapped.

God, I hoped I hadn't glanced at her legs repeatedly!

I should have questioned her first.

Having passed, as I often did, the brunette had the advantage. I explained I had chipped a front tooth.

"Unlucky," her pithy response.

She added, I felt the unnecessary insight — "I don't think you make your luck, either!"

I scratched my neck despite having no itch. My school shirt had the top button undone, yet my collar felt constricting. I risked glancing at Ruby's legs again.

She shook her head, I think now, bemused at my shyness.

Unable to anticipate the verbal missile she might launch, I hunched my hands around my knees.

Ruby completely gobsmacked me as she stated, "Even a minx like myself can't account for having a soft spot for a floundering puppy."

Her hands tensed on her school skirt before sliding down its creases. They nearly clenched. I watched, fascinated, as she steadily straightened her slender fingers and drummed her toned thighs.

I overlooked her shard of openness, focussing on the wrong word.

Minx propagated in my head — the brunette wore the tag like a badge.

My body tightened as my jaw slacked.

Goodness, my conscience told me, use her name. 

My selfish centre retaliated; she called herself a minx! 

I stumbled to select a question to ask Ruby.

Should I ask about the record bar, the dentist, or the nursery?

I said, "Why were you at the nursery?"

This appeared to be a safe, inoffensive question. I hoped she wouldn't reply sassy.

"The obvious," Ruby snapped with swagger, like I missed what should have been staring me in my face.

Maybe I missed something.

She launched flippantly, "Boy, you have a lot to learn."

The light bulb flashed in my head.

I daydreamed about Coral while she pursued my golden girl with planning and action. The penny dropped: One of the indoor plants had to be for Coral! Ruby would go through the motions and pretend to like greenery.

I grasped why she blushed at the nursery!

What wouldn't Ruby do to get into Coral's verdant personal garden? 

She whipped her head, swishing her ponytail delightfully.

Ruby propped up, tucked her feet under her chair and stated, "You like being around girls, yet you don't know how to talk to them!"

The dental assistant, the young blonde Raine, appeared, called her name, and Ruby followed her.

With Ruby out of sight, I quickly grabbed and flicked through an old Geographic. My appointment turn came soon enough, and my tooth was polished.

I remember later looking at my nails on the tram ride home, ragged and revolting, chipped and torn.

I locked my hands under my thighs.

Ruby was right; stop!

I preferred to hanker rather than dwell on my nails; what gift should I give to Coral? 

I wasn't thinking of birthdays; they were a given.

I sought to provide Coral with a gift beyond a present. 

Ruby and Coral were masters of the regular exchange of affectionate tokens. They reciprocated treats from the start of their friendship in high school.

My mind zigzagged.

Did Ruby's offerings count if they had an ulterior motive? 

Coral naturally gave gifts as part of her nature — easily given and appreciated.

I needed to give heartfelt gifts.

This was lost as I reminded myself to leave my nails alone as my fingers edged out from under my thighs.