St. Agnes of Rome was 12 or 13 years old when she was martyred, meaning virtually all of the students who attended St. Agnes High School were older than the institution's namesake. Ruth McGrath found this fact incredibly ironic. Everyone had already failed—the saint whose portrait hung in the lobby of the school was a little girl who won the race in the whole sacrifice-your-life-for-Jesus thing. Not that anyone there was particularly dead set on achieving sainthood. Ruth, having been at this game (the game being attending Catholic schools) for fourteen years, was fascinated by the existence of parochial schools. Most Catholic high school students did not think twice about religion, and yet everyone was plagued by an unidentifiable, underlying guilt in their every move. This guilt had been so ingrained in them—the knowledge that maybe some figure from the sky was watching their every move—that almost no one could recognize it within themselves. Well, maybe it hadn't been quite so ingrained in the students whose. . .extracurricular activities. . .led to the chapel being locked during the day. But nevertheless, everyone was reminded every second of every day that God was watching. Ruth was not a fan.
But Ruth was really good at playing the game. Making sure her skirt hit her knees, having the best grades in her religion classes, knowing the Mass inside and out, altar serving, reading, singing, volunteering. She was the ultimate Catholic young woman. And Jesus was she miserable.
Ruth didn't officially meet Matthew Murdock until PSAT testing sophomore year. She knew he was one of the kids from the orphanage affiliated with the school, and—well, obviously—that he was blind, but that was the extent of her knowledge about him. She hadn't spoken to him—or anyone, really. Playing the Catholic girl game to please all the authority figures in her life did not exactly make her friend material. She had a few friends, but they mostly stuck around her to keep track of her academic achievements and compare them to their own. Ruth and Matthew ended up being the only students with 504's taking the PSAT that year. Ruth had fucked up her cornea a few years back, and reading (and seeing) had been a struggle ever since. Ruth doesn't pinpoint that event as the beginning of hers and Matt's friendship, but it was certainly a starting point for them. Sure, they had spoken that day before the testing and during the breaks, and had spoken to each other several times after that day. But no, Ruth wouldn't call that the beginning of their friendship.
Their friendship began when Ruth pushed Austin Richards onto the sidewalk after she caught him attempting to trick Matt into getting on the wrong bus. Austin Richards retaliated by swiping at her ankles, sending her face first onto the concrete. She took the bus to the orphanage with Matt for the nuns to fix her up free of charge. No one said a peep to the principal, and Ruth and Matt were friends for life.
Until it all went to shit, of course.
Present Day:
For Ruth and for musicians around the world, Fridays did not indicate the end of the work week. It did, however, mean her weekend would be (for the most part) child-free. At 2:45, the bell situated on the wall by Ruth's classroom door shimmied as it wailed out its horrible ring. She never failed to jump—sometimes even yelp—in surprise at the sound. She stopped wiping down the white board and set down the eraser, trading it for her rain jacket before heading to the parking lot entrance to assist with dismissal. The hallway buzzed with the deafening sounds of giddy children, aching for a weekend of video games, TV, and iPads. Students leapt towards her for goodbye hugs as she stalked to the doors, nearly missing the odd look on the face of Carissa, one of the school's paraprofessionals who was also on walker dismissal duty. She was holding the door open a crack, umbrella over her head, as she spoke with a mystery person outside.
"What's up, Ms. Carissa?" Ruth asked as she made it to the door, hands shoved into her pockets as she prepared for a potentially confrontational experience with a parent. That was usually the reason for Carissa's bemused expression.
"Hey, Ruthy. We've got a woman here to pick up her niece, but she's not on file. D'you mind taking her around to the front to check with the office?"
"Certainly," Ruth replied, pulling up her hood and sliding past Carissa to greet the mystery aunt. Her legs felt like jelly when she saw the person in full view. The woman looked like a supermodel with her perfectly styled hair and dazzling red lips. She had on an extra fancy looking coat, one hand stationed in a pocket while the other balanced an expensive purse. Behind her was a man who looked like he belonged to the Secret Service. He dutifully held an umbrella over her and peered at Ruth through dark glasses. Who the hell is this? "Hi, I'm Ms. McGrath, the music teacher here."
"I'm Vanessa." The woman said, slowly and smoothly. "I'm impressed by your school's commitment to security." She added. Ruth wasn't sure how to respond to that, especially considering how glaringly obvious the school's 'security measures' were the bare minimum. "I'm here to pick up my niece, Talia Marianna."
"Right. Let's get you to the front office, then." Ruth said, nodding her head to the left before guiding the woman and her bodyguard in that direction. Despite her best efforts, she could feel the edges of her hair becoming soaked by the rain. She knew it'd be pointless to straighten it that morning. "Your niece is a very lovely girl." Ruth said as they sidled past families on the side of the school. "She has a great singing voice."
"Yes, she has spoken of you and your little choir." Vanessa said. "Do you perform outside of your teaching?"
Man, Ruth felt really intimidated. This woman must've been famous—definitely rich—and Ruth knew she'd make a fool of herself if she wasn't careful. "Sort of. Mostly church gigs. I'm starting a new one this weekend, actually."
"I'd love to hear you sing some time. I'm always looking for new musicians to provide entertainment at my benefits and gallery openings."
Holy Mackerel, a gig like that would pay very nicely. Ruth nearly tripped over the pavement she was so flabbergasted. "I—I'd love that. Um, I can give you my phone number or email."
They had reached the front doors. "I'll ask for it here." Vanessa said, gesturing to the office. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. McGrath."
"You as well, Vanessa." The woman smiled her creepy supermodel smile once more before disappearing into the office, leaving Ruth to stand in the rain gaping like a fish for a moment. She was certain she'd seen that woman before. Somewhere. She knew it. On television maybe?
Well, whoever Vanessa was, Ruth hoped she'd actually get the performance opportunity. Lord knows she needed it.
Ruth had been cantoring at another church before her new music director job came up. The job would pay twice as much, and give her the opportunity to start a community choir. The only downside was that the church was affiliated with her high school—which had long since closed—so she'd potentially have to be subjected to the occasional familiar face. Saturday afternoon Mass went off without a hitch, and Ruth remained optimistic about Sunday. Ruth enjoyed the anonymity of being up in the choir loft with the organ. When she was just a cantor, she had to be on the altar for everyone to see. The congregation applauded her at the end of Sunday Mass when Father Lantom announced the staff change. Elderly parishioners praised her on their way out of the church. She was back to playing the game again.
The church seemed empty when her impromptu receiving line finished up. Ruth had the intention of asking Father Lantom a question about next week's Masses, but stopped halfway to his spot in the pews when she noticed he was speaking to another man in the pew behind him. Her stomach flipped as she caught sight of the man, thinking for a moment it might be him. But it wasn't. It couldn't be. And yet, as she blinked a few more times, closed her bad eye, and practically broke her neck from craning it, the man didn't stop looking like him. Like Matthew Murdock. She hadn't realized how aggressively she'd been staring—so much so that she'd slid into a pew and balanced her leg on top of a kneeler to get a better look. She gasped in horror as her foot slipped, sending the kneeler slamming to the floor, echoing terribly in the mostly empty church.
"Godda—" She began to whisper, before remembering where she was. There it was again. The guilt. The possibility that everyone was right. There is somebody watching.
Of course, she'd very quickly garnered the attention of Father Lantom and the Matthew lookalike. "Oh, Ruth. Beautiful job today."
"Th-Thank you, Father." She replied awkwardly as she pulled the kneeler back up. "I just, uh, had a quick question for you, but it looks like you might be in the middle of—"
"Just friendly conversation. You're welcome to join us over here if you'd like."
Right. She was a good ten pews down from them. She shuffled along, carrying her binder of music and feeling nauseated. It wasn't him. It can't be him. She will not let it be him. And yet it was definitely him. "Um, I was just wondering if you were doing the short form or the long form of next week's Mass? There are a bunch of optional responsorials listed, so I wasn't sure. . ."
Father Lantom smiled, either not noticing the terror in her demeanor or completely misinterpreting it. "I'd like to do the short form. Is that okay with you?"
Ruth laughed awkwardly. "Yes, definitely." And with her question answered, Ruth debated sprinting towards the exit. And yet her feet remained planted in the pew next to Father Lantom.
"Matthew, this is our new director of music, Ruth McGrath." Father Lantom said with a grin. "Ruth, this is Matthew Murdock." Oh, this asshole had to know they knew each other. There's no way.
"We've met." Matt says. A buzz of anger radiates through Ruth at his word choice.
"We have?" She replies before she can stop herself. She hoped it wasn't as noticeably bitchy to her new boss as it was to Matt.
Matt just scoffed in disbelief.
"Oh, look at the time." Father Lantom said, looking at his watch in feigned shock. "I promised Sister Frances I'd do confessions over at the orphanage. I'll see you both soon. Take care." He picked up and was off towards the sacristy in a flash. Asshole.
Ruth turned to leave, but Matt spoke before she could get far enough to escape. "Ruth, wait."
"What is it?" Ruth asked. Her heart was pounding and it was pissing her off. She knew he could hear it.
"I just. . ." He trailed off. "You sounded beautiful."
"I know." She replied unthinkingly. Confidence was never her thing, but she sure as hell would convince him she was. But she couldn't, could she? So, knowing he'd detect her lie, she added, "Thanks."
"It was really nice to hear you singing again."
She could feel the familiar lump forming in her throat. "Goodbye, Matt." She managed to get out before speed walking toward the exit.
She held her breath until she stepped out of the doors, freeing herself from the suffocating gaze of Jesus statues and the Stations. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. . ." She whispered to herself as she stomped in the direction of her apartment.
The audacity of that man! It made her sick.
Fall, Senior Year of High School:
"Listen to the lyrics of this hymn." Ruth said from her seat at her bedroom desk. Matt was sprawled out on her bed, books lying at his feet as he tossed a stuffed animal in the air. He caught it every time.
"Hold on, let me guess." Matt insisted, letting a beat of silence pass. "Christ has no body now but yours."
Ruth squeaked in annoyance. "No hands but yours! How on earth did you guess that?"
"You were humming it under your breath, Bozo. They played that during Communion at the National Honor Society Induction."
"Oh." Ruth huffed, bringing her focus back to the sheet music.
"You know what line is crazy, though?" Matt asked through the silence.
"Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord?" Ruth said with a smirk, only to take a stuffed animal hit to the face. "Ugh, you never miss!" She exclaimed, picking up the bunny and stalking towards the bed. Matt sat up as she got closer.
"Hey, whoa. You can't hit a blind person." He said, raising his hands in innocence.
"You can't hit a visually disabled person either!" She argued through her giggles.
"Oh, please. I'd take your stupid cornea anyday." Matt smirked, wrapping his arms around her waist as she raised the bunny in the air. He flipped her onto the bed before she could strike, causing her to shriek.
"Okay, okay, you win!" She exclaimed before he could do something like tickle her. She sat up, handing him the bunny. "Get back to your homework."
He didn't respond, just smiled in her direction like a doofus. That was the first time she'd noticed him doing that. She remembered shivering a little then, unsure what to make of it.