Free Stolen by Daniel Palmer Page B

responding to the drug.”
    Ruby’s face lit up in a way I hadn’t seen since the day I proposed to her, down on one knee, on the roof deck of a restaurant overlooking the Charles River.
    “That’s . . . that’s good news,” Ruby said, her voice lifting with excitement.
    “That’s good news,” Lee concurred, her serious expression breaking into a slight smile.
    “So what now?” I asked.
    “Now we keep doing what we’re doing,” Lee said. “Our plan of action is working, and we should stick with it. I’m still of a mind to schedule you for the node dissection, because there could be microscopic cancer left in the nodes, but this is definitely a positive sign.”
    The plan of action was, of course, for Ruby to digest more of the illegally obtained drug, Verbilifide. When we first sought Dr. Lee’s medical advice, I had no doubt that she’d come to the same diagnosis and same recommended course of treatment as Dr. Adams. It was just a matter of going through the initial testing all over again. Throughout it all, I remained in awe of Ruby’s strength. A lesser person would have broken under the strain. Goodness knows I wouldn’t have been surprised if Ruby’s blood work revealed some sort of Amazonian lineage.
    We left Dr. Lee’s office with that clichéd extra kick in our step. Ruby, smiling in a way I hadn’t seen in eons, was light on her feet and quick with a laugh. I felt extra alive and fully aware of our good fortune. Grateful, that was the best word to describe how we were both feeling at that moment. We were so incredibly grateful for everything, absolutely giddy with euphoria. For a brief flash we weren’t weighed down by the guilt of what we’d done, the crime we’d committed to get to this point. Rather, we were elated. I kept thinking about what Dr. Lee had said.
    Our plan of action is working. . . . Nodes are definitely responding to the drug .
    My heart filled with hope and joy, and I thought back to the day I first developed feelings for Ruby. It wasn’t love at first sight for me, more like smitten at ninth sight, because it was on the ninth day of our college history class together that—in a blink—I became spell-bound by Ruby’s dazzling smile. Everything about that moment is frozen in my memory: the way her strawberry blond hair draped like a fine silk cloth over her shoulder, the green sweater she wore that made her eyes sparkle, the freckles that skirted across her cheeks. I’m probably one of the few people in the world for whom the Peloponnesian War evokes lustful thoughts.
    I was sitting behind Ruby, yes, listening to the lecture, yes, taking notes, when she turned around to ask me a question. I had noticed her the first day of class, of course, but I’d never had her smile at me before. I got lost in that smile, forgot all about the Peloponnesians and their bloody conflict. When she smiled at me, the only thing I wanted to learn more about was Ruby Dawes.
    After class I asked her out on a date, pizza at Captain Nemo’s in Kenmore Square, and she promptly agreed. Over cheese slices we talked about school, my passion for climbing, and her love of the outdoors. The subject of parents came up, and so we bonded over having both lost our fathers. It wasn’t a heavy conversation, more like we’d been friends for a long time and there was comfort in rehashing our realities.
    She knew a lot about music. I credit her with introducing me to some old school bands: the Pixies, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Guided by Voices, and Jane’s Addiction. She considered herself alternative on the inside, because the way she dressed, sporty casual, didn’t fit the image of a brooding, darkly dressed, cutting-edge music aficionado.
    We left Nemo’s and went back to my apartment, which at the time I shared with two Italian exchange students, who were trying—sadly, without much success—to master my native tongue. We hung out in my bedroom for a while, talking about things people who are