Long Winding Ring Story

Denoument

We again slept in separate rooms that night. Dad "busted" us in the hallway again. Again we chuckled over it. But hey, you have to respect the house rules.

The morning was predictable. Dad literally lept off the couch and shouted "Hooray!". I belatedly asked his blessing. Then I asked for the dowry. He told me to get a shovel, start digging and to let him know if I found anything.

Her mom cried, of course.

I got a Palm Pilot from my wife-to-be. But more importantly, I got my mate.

I was also called on the carpet for my thievery.

A few days later when visiting my family, my mom beamed and said her sons had chosen well.

Predictably, my best friend called me a fool. But he shook my hand all the same.

As I write this in 2007, roughly 6 weeks of days separate me from a full decade from that night. I would love to say that i has been a smooth, happy sail from that day forward. But like all marriages it hasnt been. We learned we would have a son mere weeks later. So there was no big wedding. And like all new couples we had some rough times over the impending birth. We weathered the arguments over money. We survived my becoming a workaholic for a time. We continue to work through my difficulties with being a husband and father.

Through it all, there has been more joy than sadness. More laughter than anger. And that is what counts in the final tally; that the happy column far outweighs the unhappy.

Lat night I watched a documentary on building the Alcan highway. An old feller who was on the crews of combat engineers back then said it best "I wouldnt trade a million dollars to anyone for that experience. I also wouldnt pay one red cent to do it again" Amen. I wouldnt trade that December in 1997 for anything; but I also wouldnt give anything to go through it again.

I came away blessed beyond all hope on that Christmas. My wife, Paige and soon after, My son Maxwell.

Long Winding Ring Story

Chapter 3: Delivery

Christmas Eve. The last day. The days previous had felt calm and relaxed compared to this. I hurt. My joints hurt. My chest hurt. My teeth ached from clamping my jaw. I hadn't slept more than a couple hours at a stretch for a week. I was going to have a heart attack at 32.

This was it. It had to be today. I couldn't stand there empty-handed on Christmas Morning and not have anything to give my girlfriend. Not in front of her family. Not knowing I had the gift she most wanted of anything right there at hand. That would be a deep, tearing lie that destroyed what good I did have in my life.

But I also would not, could not do it in front of everyone. That was a terrifying thought. Screwing that up was guaranteed. It also didn't feel right to do it that way. It isn't fair to her, being placed on the spot like that. No chance to say no

Oh man, what if she did say no? How would that be? Could I take that? Would I feel crushed beyond repair? Worse, would I feel relieved?

Wait, am I supposed to ask her dad first? He's a pretty traditional guy? What if he said no? What then? And could he keep it to himself? Wait, no. I cant do that. She would probably not like me asking another man for permission first. Or maybe she would.

Oh hell.

All day long I followed her around. I kept looking for the right moment. Too many people. Not enough alone time. The light isn't right. She's on the phone. Her dad is talking to me. She has to run to the store. Do it in the store parking lot? Absolutely no way.

That night we were to go to a Christmas Eve party and gift exchange at her best friend's house. It takes me all of fifteen minutes to get ready. She takes a couple hours. I sit. fidgeting. Pacing. Her dad wants to discuss the news of the world. He wants to argue about it. He loves to debate. All I can hear is a Peanuts teacher-voice. I nod and try to be polite. But I cant concentrate. He is disappointed in my lack of interest.

The party was fun. At least I think it was. I am pretty sure it was. I was not quite my self. The friends I was meeting were nice people. My girl would occasionally tug me aside and whisper some of the old time gossip. I liked hearing the back story with her lips brushing my ear ever so gently. but I was outside my skin. I was operating a puppet. The puppet was charming, laughing, engaging. The puppet made all the right movements and said all the right things, while I slowly fell apart.

I drank a lot. More than I should have. And then, a bad thing happened. I have a difficult time imagining a worse event. I had eaten a large amount. I had beer and whiskey. I was trying to make a good impression on her friends. I was trying to find the right moment to make the delivery. I was ready to snap. And then I puked. Right there. On the carpet. Like a stressed dog blowing his training. And I felt that embarrassed.

I wasn't nauseous. I was a bit drunk, but not staggering. More buzzed than really drunk. The string tight tension just buzzed the alcohol away, like drinking beer on a really hot day, sweating it out before it has much of an effect. But I was full. And I was freakishly tense. Someone said something that made me laugh. Really laugh, no faking. it was as if it hit a pressure relief valve. Like popping the cap off a warm bottle of root beer. And there it came. Not a bucket. Not a gallon. Just a quick rush and there it was. Splat. A nice softball sized spatter. On the white carpet.

What do you do? What could I do? Time just halted right there. I felt myself flush scarlet red from head to toe. All I could do was start chanting "Oh my god. I am so sorry" Over and over while I searched for something with which to clean it up.

I was done for. Her boyfriend had just screwed the pooch and done one of the few things that would cause tongues to fly. I had not been so embarrassed in my life. I was white hot with humiliation. The puppet did his level best to keep up with being charming and repair the damage, while I slowly gnawed on my own self. I had no warning. I didnt feel nauseous. I barely even felt buzzed. After that I wasnt buzzed at all.

Eventually, days it seemed like, we went home.

The drive back took forever. As if we had been somehow moved to the midwest during the party without knowing it. The icy roads and naked trees seemed to wind forever. As we pulled into the driveway, I knew. This had to be it. If not in the next few minutes, then I would be forced to do it in front of everyone in the morning. And my brittle ego just could not take that.

Her father was still up when we walked in the door. He wanted to chat. And chat he did. It seemed like forever. I was exhausted. But I had to do this. I had to wait. My hand was wrapped in a tight fist around the ring in my pocket. I had to will myself into letting go of it in case someone thought I had a bad itch or was playing a pool tournament in my pocket.

Finally he said his goodnights and went up the stairs. This was it. We were alone for the first time in days.

"Oh honey I am beat. I need to go to bed."

"um hold on a second"

" Why? I am so tired"

"Uh well we haven't.. well y'know. we haven't had any time together alone for days. Just sit her for a minute."

We sat. The seconds ticked like the slow beat of a drum. Boom. Boom. Boom. I had the ring in my hand, hot and slick with sweat.

"I uh actually..well I uh...I wanted to give you your Christmas present now." I opened my hand. There it was.

She gasped. Time halted again. I really wished that would stop happening.

She slowly picked it up, not looking at me. I could hear the tears in her voice "For real? Really?"

"yes"

She started trembling, still not looking at me. I waited.

I waited.

"uh..so.."

She jumped and breathed a sharp gasp. It was her turn for the stress test, I guess. In the movies, the woman either tearfully and slowly puts the ring on the table and says "I'm sorry, but I can't" Or she leaps wildly, throwing herself on her new fiance. My sweet, beloved slowly wrapped herself around me and pulled me in like a warm blanket "Yes. Of course" and she wept.

We clung to eachother for a long long time. But I no longer minded the tricks time played on me. The anguish, the brittle pain was gone. My skin fit me again. I was whole. I was more whole that I hade ever been.

Wiping her face, she said "Wait. arent you supposed to get down on your knee?"

Crap. I had screwed that up too.

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.

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.