The Ring. A Short Story.

I hadn’t seen her in almost a year but we had remained close over the years. We’d spent our college years miles apart. Still, we both knew one of us could always pick up the phone and find the other through the bundles of wires that connected our voices. Each time we talked it was if no time had passed. We’d tell our stories about the happenings in our lives. There was never any bitterness for an extended period of not being in touch. And each conversation picked up where the last had ended. We knew we’d always have each other no matter where our lives took us. There were battle wounds from the trials and errors of past relationships. Broken hearts to be mended. Tears to be wiped. But through it all we had each other. That was a given. A given that I guess I took for granted.

We were finally in the same city for a few days. We looked forward to meeting up. We set the time and the place. Fontina’s, the fabulous Italian bistro. 7:30pm. On the dot. For me, a 7:30 meeting time meant 7:40ish. I tended to be fashionably late though it was not always on purpose. But this time I was eager to see her. I arrived at the restaurant at 7:15pm. And immediately called to make sure she was on her way.

“Hi. Yes, we are on our way. We’ll be there in ten minutes,” she says.

I casually dismiss the we pronoun. I’m too excited right now. I don’t see her pull up to the restaurant but as she approaches the door, I grab her and give her a tight squeeze. Here she is. The woman who has been my best friend since 6th grade. We pull away and look at each other. Exchange the quick “how are you’s” before embracing again. She pulls away and puts her hand in mine and pulls our hands closer to my face. And there it is. The ring. I look at the ring and back at her face. She beams with the brightest smile and her eyes just twinkle. This woman is in love, I think to myself. I look back at the ring and tell her congratulations. She reaches her arm around me and we hug again. And it is only this time that I see him. He is standing about 5 feet away allowing us to have our moment. He can’t read my face though. I have no emotion on it. Really, I don’t know what emotion to feel. I release from our embrace and she turns to him.

“Claire, this is Jonathan. Jonathan, this is Claire, my best friend.”

I extend my arm to shake his hand. There is no part of me that even considers hugging him. It's partly because I don't hug anyone who I just meet and partly something that I couldn't really pinpoint.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I say. And I mean it.

Lily had been talking about Jonathan for months now. I think she said they met right after the last time I saw her. I looked forward to meeting this man who had stolen her heart. The kind of man that we used to think we’d only dream about. And now, she’d found him and they were to be married. They were going to build a life together. And there I was hardly happy with my career path and no where near finding a relationship to which I’d care to devote my life. I was at my usual point, coming out of a relationship that I aspired would turn out better than it did. I’d break it off and continue on my search. This time though, I was tired. More tired than all the other times. So worn out from trying. Worn out from the stress. Worn out from putting my heart out there just to retrieve it after it had been trampled on. But my best friend was happy and really, I was happy for her. She was my best friend. I wanted her to be happy. I smiled at her and swung open the door to the restaurant trying to swing away the strange mixture of emotions.

We sat down at a nice quiet table. I immediately ordered a glass of wine knowing that I needed something to calm my nerves. Lily and I chatted and caught up on how work was and whether we were still satisfied with it. She knew that I was looking. I told her I was considering moving closer to where she was. I’d secretly imagined we could live together. But all my plans had forgotten about the fiancé. I didn’t even mention those thoughts to her. It all seemed a little pointless now.

After my second glass of wine and halfway through my fettuccine alfredo, I realized that I had not spoken to Jonathan at all. Lily and I had our conversation. She would talk to him and I overheard their interactions. But I had no idea where he worked. If he even worked. If he had insurance. If he was at all a good match for my best friend. Even then, I didn’t exert myself. I didn’t engage him in conversation. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to get to know him. After all, things were different when he was around. Lily didn’t laugh as loud at my jokes. She didn’t take my not-so-politically correct comments about co-workers in the same non-judgmental manner as she had without him. Maybe I was overanalyzing but something felt different. I felt like I was losing what I once had. A close friend and confidante. A person who loved me no matter what. Someone who was always there as a shoulder to cry on even from miles away. Yet, here we were. Feet from each other and I felt as though we were worlds apart. And her world was moving on without me. She didn’t need me any more. She had someone who would love and care for her no matter what.

As I watched her wipe a spot of sauce off his chin, a deep sadness came over me. One that I couldn’t shake. I picked up my bag and acted like I was looking for my wallet. I couldn’t watch anymore. I closed my eyes and hoped with every part of me that no matter what, this man would never come between me and my best friend. I need her in my life more than she’ll ever know.