When they returned to Davenport, the couple briefly stepped into Mike's apartment to change out of their formal clothing. Ruthie took off her uncomfortable dress, hoping it would be a very long time before she would have to wear it again. She didn't see why she would...no formal events were coming up that she was aware of. It was warm enough for her to wear the red dress that Mike had bought her when they first started going out in October. How long ago that seemed, and yet it was only slightly more than half a year. She knew that the dress was not really appropriate for Mike's mood, but they did have to move on. Besides, it was getting hot and Ruthie was eager to enjoy the fresh air on her skin.
It was still early enough to drive to San Gregorio beach and enjoy a few hours of late-afternoon sunshine. Ruthie made the suggestion. Mike agreed, not really knowing what else to do. They got there and found a place to park. It had been crowded earlier on, but now people were just starting to leave. Mike and Ruthie walked down the steps, dropped off their clothes at one of the driftwood shelters, and walked out onto the shoreline. The tide was out and a wide, peaceful stretch of wet sand lay between them and the distant waves. Seagulls circled overhead and sandpipers scurried in front of the couple. A soft wind blew against their bare bodies, with just a hint of chilliness in it. Soon enough the sun would be low in the horizon, low enough to look at as it set.
They got to the shore's edge and felt the cold water washing around their feet. Mike took Ruthie in his arms. For a long time they looked out over the Pacific Ocean. Ruthie lifted up Mike's hand and sadly kissed it.
The waves are calling me. I belong out there, my body floating in that water, but that's gonna have to wait. I didn't want to have to wait around...I hate my life...I hate this existence...there's really no point in me staying alive...I don't belong on this planet, in this reality...for me there's no joy and there never will be. I know that more than ever now. But I can't leave, at least not yet.
Ruthie caressed Mike's hand. She was convinced that she did not love him, at least not the way she thought she was supposed to love a partner. The passion, the sexual desire, the joy that a person feels upon seeing their companion, was something Ruthie would never experience with Mike.
And yet, in her own way, she did love him, more than either of them could have imagined. Ruthie knew that whatever her faults, she was all he had, the only person in his life that gave it any purpose. Regardless of how she felt about herself, she would never take that purpose away from him. Their friendship had committed her to living a life that would not be for her, but for him. She promised herself that as long as he needed her, she would be there for him. Fifty days or fifty years...she would stay with Mike until he finally got tired of her. Then, finally, she could seek her own peace: she would follow the ocean's call and vanish into the surf.