Long Winding Ring Story

Chapter 2: The Smuggler

I checked my pocket for the dozenth time. The small box was still there.

Oh hell. Airport security screening. Even though this was back in the days before we got the new improved security that TSA promises and delivers, I would still get searched. it was as inevitable as tides and moon phases. I was gonna get the wand.

I quickly turned my back and shoved the small box deep in my backpack. Then I rehearsed how I would handle it if they wanted to search the bag and open the box.

Eventually I was cleared. Even more eventually, my girl and I were strapped in the cigar tube that would launch us all the way across the country. The box was safely back in my pocket. Yes, I went to the bathroom and put it back in my pocket. No way was I going to be separated from that shiny chunk of rock. Too many crows would be envious of it. To much was riding right there in that little box.

"Are you ok, honey?" My girl asked pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Huh? Oh I'm fine. I just hate airports. You know that."

She kissed me. "Well you just seem distracted. This will be fun. I cant wait to see the whole famdamily"

She always says it like that, "whole famdamly" I wondered how I would feel about that in 20 years.

I drifted back over the past couple weeks. There was, of course, the crazed tearing apart of the house trying to find that ring I had stolen. "Have you seen my dolphin ring? I know it was on the bathroom counter"

"Why no. I haven't. Let me help you find it"

Jesus. I sounded full of shit even to myself. She looked at me a bit oddly. Oh hell. She knows. In moments I would be wailing that the body was buried under the floor.

But I didnt.

A couple days later I was back at the store, wrinkled reciept in hand to pick up the ring. The salesman handed me the box and I was ready to snatch it from him and run. I had actually taken it turned to go when he stopped me. "You should look at it before you leave."

"Oh. Uh. ok"

"I want you to be sure it is what you want"

The subtext was that he didnt want me claiming I got an empty box. And well, he was right. He was a little miffed too, because I hadnt given him the chance to present it with the box open. Poor manners on my part. Shit, I was wound tight.

My hands shook as I lifted the box lid against the weight of the spring, as if it were cautioning me "are you sure? Are you sure you want to open this?"

There it was. It rested perfectly in the velour lined box. Under the lights the stone shot hot pricks of light. Anyone else who saw it would think "oh how nice" but to me it screamed beauty and weight.

The box felt like a small boulder in my pocket. A large chunk of responsibility and change. I walked back to my truck as if I had a pocket full of very unstable explosives.

I jacknifed in my seat on the plane "Oh shit!" came out of my mouth like a misfired gun. My girl jumped, her head snapping up from her magazine "What? what? Did you forget something?

"Oh no. uh. I just remembered something at uh work. I can call tomorrow or something. It's ok."

"Well stop it. You scared the hell out of me."

I sat back. I had just realized that I had no backup. I was so focused on the ring that I had not even thought to get another christmas gift for her in case I chickened out. Oh hell. In all the time I had made strange modifications to my bikes, I had always left myself a path to return the bike to original shape if my experiment didnt work. I had forgotten that basic rule. I had screwed myself into a corner.

I reassured myself that I could get in some shopping in Pennsylvania. Surely I could find something.

I kept repeating that to myself every fifteen minutes. For four hours.

I knew it was a lie.

No sooner had we arrived when the whole trip became a whirlwind of events. She has a large family. And a large circle of friends. There were dinners, parties, get-togethers and events. On the run from dawn to late in the night.  There was no way I could get away. Not without casting myself in a bad light or giving myself up.

As each day dwindled toward toward December 25th, I lay in bed at night and stared at the ceiling. I was a sleep deprived, nervous wreck. Oh and I slept alone which was probably for the best.

Why alone? Well even though we had lived together for some time, her family, her parents in particular, were rooted in tradition. That meant I slept in her brother's room, while she shared her sister's. Every evening when we came home or went to bed, we would say goodnight at the end of the hall before we went to separate rooms. And every time, her dad would for some reason feel the urge to use the bathroom at the other end of the hall.  We were amused by it. But neither of us raised a fuss.

The clock sped by during the day and crawled at night.