Inside the Mind of Isadora

Her Name is Ruby



She’s pensive. 

He wonders if she’s unhappy with the long stem red roses. The florist had assured him that all women loved red roses. 

She seems deep in thought. 

He was hoping for a big smile and the touch of her soft hand on his. Instead, I’m feeling the Cabernet slide down my tightly muscled throat. Dating is difficult, but meeting for the first time in person instead of on Face Time felt awkward.

Ruby wondered if he could feel her angst.

She loathed her name. She was tired of being told it was an intense color. The only thing she felt strongly about was her angry resentment for her mother. She was a prostitute who wore ruby red colors because the men she accompanied prized the color, especially on her curvy body.

Was this a joke my mother played on me?

The name Ruby means nothing to me. It’s the color of blood, a sign of death. A death I would take pleasure in if it just happened to her by chance.

 Yes, red long-stemmed roses from Randolph would have been lovely if she didn’t hate the color.

Smiling, she squeezes Randolph’s hand. “Thank you for the lovely flowers. You shouldn’t have”.

2022©Isadora DeLaVega


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                                                           Image credit: Olga Solodilova @ Unsplash



Author: Inside the Mind of Isadora

Intriguing, sensitive, mysterious, loving, artistic and crackling with excitement for life is a pretty good description of who I am. I just retired from the world of art where I sold my Artfully Designed Handmade Jewelry for 28 years; although, art will always be a part of who I am no matter what venue I choose to express it in.

15 thoughts on “Her Name is Ruby

  1. Pingback: WDYS # 121 -A Roundup post – Keep it alive

  2. Isn’t it odd how a telephone, snail mail, email or even online text relationship that withstands the test of time becomes so fragile during that first real life get together (yeah, I know, I by-passed the whole prozzie-mom-name-color association thing, but it’s the thing to stuck out most to me).

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’ve never had the experience but one of my daughters found someone on a dating site that turned out to be a ‘catfish’ and not the person in the photo. UGH!!! The new style of dating. I’m blessed I do not have those things happening in my life.
      The other part of the story (prozzie, mom, name, etc.) is filler for the real issue: face to face in person meeting. And, her disgust for red roses. An overplayed gift – in my humble opinion. Bravo for getting that. Thanks … 😎

      Liked by 2 people

      • I wasn’t even thinking about online dating and being catfished (perish the thought. I hope things turned out well for your daughter), I’ve been penpaling since I was 14, back in the prehistoric days of hand written letters and waiting a couple of months for a reply from people across the globe.

        It’s funny the mental images we create of people (even when photographs are provided) and how months and even years of establishing a connection through correspondence can be pushed back to the beginning stages during the intial flesh meeting.


        • Yes, it ended when he asked her for money so he could come to see her. HA … the nerve!!!
          I had a penpal from 5th grade onto adulthood. She passed. I loved waiting for the letters. Such a simple thing yet so enjoyable. Aahhhh … life was simpler then.

          I think we did the same thing when we had rotary phones with no way of seeing the person. Our minds created what we thought was but in reality wasn’t … at least, not all together.
          Oddly, I was thinking about seeing a photo of someone but when you meet them they sound like Mickey Mouse: high pitched voice. lol

          Liked by 1 person

  3. Some mothers have a lot to answer for…

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Love this one Isadora 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Ah yes, the red roses were a reminder of a name she hated. Thanks Isadora for joining in. Lovely story

    Liked by 1 person

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