I said, “Where is the ring, David?”
When he returned, the ring was inside a cheap black jewelry box.
He gave a strained little laugh. “This is ridiculous.”
“Bring it here,” Elaine said.
He looked at her, jaw tight. “I was going to give it back.”
Elaine didn’t blink. “You had three years.”
When he returned, the ring was inside a cheap black jewelry box. Not the velvet heirloom box Elaine remembered. Just something plain and forgettable, like he had wanted the whole thing to become.
He had not lost it.
Elaine opened it.
The ring was there, untouched.
He had not lost it.
He had not sold it.
He had hidden it in a drawer and let me carry the story for him while he enjoyed the credit for being patient.
That was when things really sharpened into focus in my mind.
With our friends, he acted like we were basically married already, too evolved to care about paperwork.
