Long Winding Ring Story

Chapter One: The Thief

My wife and I had been dating for three years. Living together for a year. It was November or so. We were planning to visit her family in Pennsylvania for the holidays. I had just finished a contract gig installing a network and computers for a local business, so I was flush with cash. But I didnt know what to get her for christmas.

But beneath that was a feeling. It was in the air. My girl was getting itchy. She wanted the whole shebang or none at all. Nothing was said. It was just a feeling. A change in specific gravity. An emotional barometer change. The storm was coming. The question was, did I want to flee the weather? Or did I want to stay and feel the wind and rain on my skin?

Slowly, like pulling a big, silvery fish to the surface of a lake, it became clear to me. I could not picture my life without her. I could see our lives together, but the other hallway was dark. I couldnt see what was down that way. But was I willing to pay the price? Would I regret paying it? I had never let anyone close to me. Losing someone I loved at a very young age had damaged me, possibly permanently. I never wanted to go through that again.

With my nerves and emotions drawn tight and vibrating I found myself in an antique jewelery store looking at rings. I found a beautiful, ornate antique ring. Very expensive. but it wasnt right. And I was still unsure.

I sat on the thoughts for another couple of weeks. THe tension was thick. She knew something was bothering me. But it isnt her way to press. She just patiently waits for me to find the way to let it out. I found myself watching her hands. Wondering what size she needed. I put her rings on my pinky finger to see how a new ring needed to fit so I had a measurement. But that still wasnt right. When I did that, I couldnt breathe. My heart physically hurt. My hands shook. And I had no one to counsel me. I didnt want anyone to know. My best friend was a man who was very bitter about marriage. I was on my own.

Finally. I stole it. I stole a ring of hers and went out on a saturday morning. I drove my shitty truck around for a while. Trying to figure out my plan. Her ring weighed my pocket like a millstone.

Then I remembered a jeweler that my dad had frequented when my folks lived here. I pointed the hood of the old chevy in that direction. Every mile felt heavier than the last. And my old truck maxed out at 55. It was slow agony. I realize I sound like a man walking to the executioner. But it wasnt like that. It was like I was going to go skydiving. The tension of going to the field. Preparing the gear. Climbing in the plane. Thinking "Oh fuck what am I doing?" But knowing it has to be done. It will change my life and be an experience like no other.

I circled the parking lot several times, telling myself I was looking for a good spot. I was really just twisting myself in the wind. I had to do it.

The store was one of those places that is so upscale, it doesnt need to advertise. Word of mouth does the job for them. I stepped inside. Past the guard. Rows of glass cases polished to absolute crystal clarity. Bright lights lit the insides of the cases so that nothing hid in shadow. They were proud of their wares.

I, standing there in my leather jacket, denim cut off on top, long hair to my waist, heavy, battered boots and stained jeans.....I stuck out like a whore in church. I wandered the cases, trying to look inconspicuous, avoiding the eyes of sales people who were thankfully busy. Holy shit was that one really fifteen grand?

I didnt belong here. I needed to go. I had to leave just so I could draw a breath.

"Can I help you?"

I almost lost it right there. If it were possible, my skin would have split wide open right there my sinless body would have ricocheted off the walls gibbering in a high falsetto.

"I uh..am looking...for well. that is...I'mlookingforanengagementringthanks"

The neatly dressed man beamed at me. "Well I hope congratulations are in order, sir" He didnt bat an eye at my size or my garb. This might be easier than I had thought.

He was top notch. He guided me to a case of rings and such, asking pertinent questions. Did I want a deigned ring? Did I want to select stones and have them mounted? What else had I looked at?. What was my budget? The tension in my shoulders eased a bit as I became distracted with the process. I told him of the antique. I told him how I wanted it to be classy but not gaudy. And to myself I thought "And I dont want to get ripped off"

TO my surprise he aimed me away from the designer rings and to loose stones. I ahdnt considered that. Maybe they make more profit that way, I dont know. But what he said made sense. Selecting loose let me examine it for flaws as well as maximize the cost there as a classic setting was very inexpensive.

Slowly my breathing returned as I got lost in the nuances of stone selection. Grades, flaws, fire. Weighing size against quality. Like all things bigger doesnt mean better given a hard cash limit. After a full hour of examining and sorting, we settled on a beautiful stone. Not large, but no chip either. A very bright and fiery clear half carat. it would go in a classic prong setting that would let the stone play exhibitionist when needed.

"So what size ring does she wear?"

"oh." I dug into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out the cheap silver ring I had stolen. "like this"

"Oh perfect! It will take a little while to get it put together. Tuesday, I think. Can we keep this to make sure the size is correct?"

"Well I...uh." picturing us tearing apart the house looking for it..."rather not"

"Oh well we can measure it. But the risk of getting it wrong would be less if we had this in hand"

So I left it. I left her ring and the project in the store's care as I went home with a wad of cash replaced by a simple receipt.

The tension returned.