She looked at the ring. Every so often, she had to look. She still had trouble believing it was there - that it was still there.
She played with its corners and rolled the band in her fingers. It wasn't exactly the cut she wanted and, come to think of it, hadn't she asked him for something smaller, something that would elegantly rest on her finger rather than shout to be noticed? But who was she to complain? How dare she complain. She still remembered the expression on his face as he slid the ring on her finger for the first time. Never before had she seen him smile so uncontrollably, never before had she seen him so happy, so...pleased. She knew how much this had meant to him (at least, that's what he told her so that's what she told herself). "I'm lucky. I really am." The realization repeated itself so often that it was beginning to sound like a reminder.
She fought the impulse to wrestle and wrench this heavy platinum band off her finger; she swallowed the rising words and the urge to yell, absurdly and fully, at this obnoxious diamond. How could she allow this to go on? How could she continue to convince herself that it didn't matter, that it would fade away, that it was all in her imagination, that it could be bought, tamed and owned by this ring?
She didn't doubt that this ring and all its promises and possibilities meant something to him. He had always said that he wanted to settle down; He loved his family so much and he couldn't wait to have one of his own. As she turned the ring around her finger, she suddenly realized that he had never said that he wanted to settle down with her, that he couldn't wait to raise a family with her, that he couldn't wait to marry her.
She paused and looked down at the ring again. And suddenly she realized that she couldn't, that she wouldn't, that she shouldn't, live with this any longer. She had been the girl at the right place and the right time. But she had not, she had never, been chosen by him. It wasn't that this ring was replaceable, exchangeable. She was.
She didn't want to be at the right place at the right time. She didn't want love as if it were a silly loyalty, a universally acceptable and compatible part. She wanted to believe that he had chosen her when he unexpectedly spotted her through the crowds and forced the taxi driver to stop in the middle of the honking and the cursing and the rush hour traffic so that he could catch her name and find out what type of music she liked (and would she think him absolutely out of his mind and out of his league if he hoped that she would go out with a complete stranger?). She wanted to believe that he had chosen her even when every other opportunity had presented itself to him, every bet had been against her, every reason had been for why not to pursue this. She wanted to believe that he had chosen her because she had been the right girl for him, regardless of place, time, convenience and circumstance.
And knowing that none of this was reality and all of this a hope that would not stop tugging at her sleeve and her heart was not worth this ring and all its contractual guarantees and security deposits.
She slid the ring from her finger and decided that she would choose her worth today.
She played with its corners and rolled the band in her fingers. It wasn't exactly the cut she wanted and, come to think of it, hadn't she asked him for something smaller, something that would elegantly rest on her finger rather than shout to be noticed? But who was she to complain? How dare she complain. She still remembered the expression on his face as he slid the ring on her finger for the first time. Never before had she seen him smile so uncontrollably, never before had she seen him so happy, so...pleased. She knew how much this had meant to him (at least, that's what he told her so that's what she told herself). "I'm lucky. I really am." The realization repeated itself so often that it was beginning to sound like a reminder.
She fought the impulse to wrestle and wrench this heavy platinum band off her finger; she swallowed the rising words and the urge to yell, absurdly and fully, at this obnoxious diamond. How could she allow this to go on? How could she continue to convince herself that it didn't matter, that it would fade away, that it was all in her imagination, that it could be bought, tamed and owned by this ring?
She didn't doubt that this ring and all its promises and possibilities meant something to him. He had always said that he wanted to settle down; He loved his family so much and he couldn't wait to have one of his own. As she turned the ring around her finger, she suddenly realized that he had never said that he wanted to settle down with her, that he couldn't wait to raise a family with her, that he couldn't wait to marry her.
She paused and looked down at the ring again. And suddenly she realized that she couldn't, that she wouldn't, that she shouldn't, live with this any longer. She had been the girl at the right place and the right time. But she had not, she had never, been chosen by him. It wasn't that this ring was replaceable, exchangeable. She was.
She didn't want to be at the right place at the right time. She didn't want love as if it were a silly loyalty, a universally acceptable and compatible part. She wanted to believe that he had chosen her when he unexpectedly spotted her through the crowds and forced the taxi driver to stop in the middle of the honking and the cursing and the rush hour traffic so that he could catch her name and find out what type of music she liked (and would she think him absolutely out of his mind and out of his league if he hoped that she would go out with a complete stranger?). She wanted to believe that he had chosen her even when every other opportunity had presented itself to him, every bet had been against her, every reason had been for why not to pursue this. She wanted to believe that he had chosen her because she had been the right girl for him, regardless of place, time, convenience and circumstance.
And knowing that none of this was reality and all of this a hope that would not stop tugging at her sleeve and her heart was not worth this ring and all its contractual guarantees and security deposits.
She slid the ring from her finger and decided that she would choose her worth today.
