The Plant

March 10, 1981

Dear John,

I imagine-no, I know-you must be wondering why you haven't heard from me much over the last three weeks. The reason is simple enough; I've been feeling guilty. And the reason I am writing now instead of calling is that I am a coward. Also I think, although you may not believe me when you read the rest of this, which is the hardest letter I've ever had to write, because I love you very much and want so much not to hurt you. All the same I suppose this will hurt and knowing I can't help it makes me cry.

John, I've met a man named Toby Anderson and have fallen head over heels in love with him. If it matters to youand it probably won't-I met him in one of the two English Restoration drama courses I'm taking. I held him off as best as I could for a long time-I very much want and need you to believe that-but by mid-February I just couldn't hold him off any longer. My arms got tired.

The last three weeks or so have been a nightmare for me. I don't really expect you to sympathize with my position, but I hope you'll believe I am telling the truth. Although you're on the east coast and I'm three thousand miles away on the west, I felt as if I were sneaking around on you. And I was. I was! Oh, I don't mean in the sense that you might come home early from work one night and find me with Toby, but I felt terrible all the same. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't do my yoga positions or the Jane Fonda Workout. My grades were slipping, but to hell with the grades-my heart was slipping.

I've been ducking your calls because I couldn't bear to hear your voice-it seemed to bring it all home to me-how I was lying and cheating and leading you on.

It all came to a head two nights ago when Toby showed me the lovely diamond engagement ring he had bought for me. He said he wanted me to have it and he hoped I wanted to take it, but he said he couldn't give it to me even if I did until I talked or wrote to you. He's such an honorable man, John, and the irony is that under different circumstances I am sure you would like him very much.

I broke down and cried in his arms and before long his tears were mingled with mine. The upshot of it all was me saying I would be ready for him to slip that gorgeous love-ring on my finger by the end of the week. I think we are going to be married in June.

You see that in the end I took the coward's way out, writing instead of phoning, and it's still taken me the last two days to get this much down-I've cut every class and have practically put down roots in the library karel where I should be studying for a Transformational Grammar prelim. But to hell with Noam Chomsky and deep structure! And although you may not believe this either, each word of the letter you're reading has been like a lash across my heart.

If you want to talk to me, John-I'd understand if you didn't but you may-you could call me in a week... after you've had a chance to think all this over and get it into some kind of perspective. I am so used to your sweetness and charm and kindness, and so afraid you'll be angry and accusatory-but that is up to you and I'll just have to “take you as you are,” I suppose. But you need that time to cool off and settle down, and I need some time, too. You should receive this on the eleventh. I'll be in my apartment from seven to nine-thirty on the nights of the eighteenth through the twenty-second, both expecting your call and dreading it. I won't want to speak to you before then, and I hope you understand-and I think maybe you will, you who were always the most understanding of men in spite of your constant self-deprecation.

One other thing-both Toby and I are in agreement about this: don't take it in your head to just suddenly jump on a plane and “wing your way into the golden west”-I wouldn't see you if you did. I'm not ready to see you face to face, John-my feelings are still too much in flux and my self-image too much in a state of transition. We will meet again, yes. And dare I say that I even hope you will come to our wedding? I must dare, as I see I have written it down!

Oh, John, I do love you, and I hope this letter has not caused you too much pain-I even hope God has been good and you may have found your own “somebody” in the last couple of weeks-in the meantime, please know that you will always (always!) be somebody to me.

My love,

Ruth

PS-And although it is trite, it is also true: I hope we can always be friends.