CHAPTER TWO:
MANNY AND RUTH
Before it all fell apart, Manny Lopes liked to say that his marriage was due to Providence—Providence, Rhode Island.
That was where he met Ruth Yi at an Ingmar Bergman double feature. The Avon Cinema was showing Wild Strawberries with Autumn Sonata, and Manny had spotted Ruth during the intermission, casually leaning against the low wall at the back of the theater. She was a goddess, majestic of thigh, with long black hair that fell like a horse’s tail down the curving shelf of her khaki-clad butt.
As a small man, Manny had a fetish about big women; as a buff of ’70s Kung Fu flicks he had a soft spot for sexy-scary Asians; so Ruth was Manny’s perfect type: the kind of girl who looked like she could beat the hell out of you. Another guy seemed to be sizing her up, and Manny decided that if he didn’t make the first move he would kick himself for the rest of his life. So he took a deep breath and sidled over, saying, “This is a great old theater, isn’t it?”
“I love it. I come here all the time.”
When she looked at him, her pale moon face eclipsing the red light of the exit sign, Manny realized he was out of his league. She was an Oriental warrior princess, he a Creole shrimp. Far from discouraging him, the knowledge relieved his anxiety: If he didn’t stand a chance, he stood nothing to lose.
“Me too,” he said. “I always thought it would be great to work in a place like this.”
“Yeah. This is what heaven should be like: red velvet, dim lights, soft music, a good movie always about to start…”
“Hot buttered popcorn. What did you think of the movie?”
“Oh, I love Bergman.”
“Me too.” This was not quite true—Manny had no strong feelings about Bergman. He mainly liked going to art films because it suited the intellectual persona he was cultivating, the mythical, idealized Self that he wanted to become: a Renaissance Man, urbane, witty, but no slouch in the physical department. Not someone who could be defined by family connections, wealth, race, or physical stature (of which Manny had none), but rather by the power of pure merit. Manny didn’t know exactly when this inner transformation would happen, but felt sure it must be a cumulative thing—just a matter of racking up enough life experiences. “I especially loved that dream sequence,” he said.
“Oh yeah, and Max Von Sydow is always so good.”
“He is.”
“And I can’t wait to see Liv Ullmann in the next one—she’s amazing.”
“She is, isn’t she?” There was a gap in the conversation. This would have been the point where Manny usually broke off and retreated, not wanting to seem a pest. For some reason he decided to keep at it. “So, are you a student?”
“No, I’m a teacher, actually. K through eight.”
“Oh yeah?”
“But right now I work at a daycare center. It’s just until I can get state certified. What do you do?”
“Well, I came here to take courses at RISD,”—(he pronounced it “Rizdee”)—“but then I decided I didn’t want to go back to college right away. What I really wanted was to travel. So I’ve been saving up money to do that, working whatever odd jobs I can find. Right now I work at a parking garage downtown, and on weekends I do handyman stuff for my landlord, but it’s just until I can find a job overseas. Hopefully something with the U.S. government.”
“That’s cool. You mean like the Peace Corps?”
“No, the War Corps—the military. But I’d be working for them as a civilian. There’s a constant push to upgrade the computer infrastructure on the older bases, so they need lots of independent contractors.”
“What exactly would you be doing?”
“Anything. Everything.”
“Jack of all trades.”
“Master of none—that’s me. No, but I did graduate from technical school, so I figure Uncle Sam can find something for me to do. It’s a two-year commitment, but the pay and benefits are great.”
“Unless you get blown up.”
“Yeah, well. So, are you from around here?”
“My family lives in Mass, but I’m originally from New York.”
“Really? I’m not from here either, I’m from California.”
They talked for a few more minutes, introducing themselves, until the lights clicked on and off.
“Whoops, showtime,” Ruth said.
“I guess so.” Manny spoke before he could think about it: “Do you care to sit together?” Every fiber in his body seemed to ball up.
“Sure.”
“Great.” Trying to appear suave, he gestured down the aisle and said, “After you.”
≥≠≤
A year later, Manny and Ruth were married. It was a simple ceremony, a guerilla ceremony, hastily conducted in a hidden glade of the Swan Point Cemetery, right on the gooey bank of the Blackstone River, with a couple of friends as witnesses and one of Manny’s co-workers (a compulsive dog-racing aficionado and former corrections officer, who had obtained his Certificate of Ministry through the mail) performing the service.
“That was nice,” Manny said afterwards, unexpectedly moved. Pinned to his lapel was a big orange button—their only wedding present. It read: KISS ME, I’M MARRIED.
“It was okay,” Ruth said, scraping mud off her shoes with a stick. “I’m glad it’s over.”
Manny was a bit stung, in spite of himself. Both of them had come from troubled homes and had airily dismissed the institution of marriage from the very beginning, but Manny was also wary of too much ironic detachment—he believed in passion, in living in the moment. It had caused some friction between he and Ruth, who was three years older and by nature more hardheaded.
“Come on, it was beautiful,” he coaxed. “You didn’t think that was romantic?”
“What are you talking about? It wasn’t even real—we only did it for the piece of paper, so that I can be on your health plan.”
“Yeah, but it was more than that. It was the perfect kind of wedding: just us, in nature, without all the pressure and bullshit most people go through to get married.”
“That’s because it wasn’t even a wedding. Nobody I care about was there; I can’t tell my family—that’s not my ideal of marriage.”
“I suppose you wish we’d done it in a church, in front of a thousand people.”
“No. You know I don’t believe in that. I’m sorry, honey, this whole thing just made me feel a little bit like a hypocrite. We did it, it’s done; you’re going to Korea. Can we just drop it?” She gave him a kiss, her eyes shunning his, shunning tears. “You know I love you.”
Manny’s hurt melted. Ruth was just stressing about him going away for so long, and he knew just how she felt. It was insane, if you thought about it. They had barely gotten to know each other, and now…
“I love you, too,” he said.