The Ring (Not a Horror Story!)

An older gentleman finds his late wife's ring. What memories come from it?

It was a hot summer in 1982, the day I found it. The house that we had lived in was groaning from the foundation up. The heat, well, it sent me back, back to a time before Betty passed. She had cancer. At least that’s what the doctors told me. I still remembered being by her side when she died.

Either way, the day she was diagnosed, she threw one of her favorite rings out the window. Out of anger, or sadness, maybe something deeper, more primal. I wouldn’t know.  I still remember that day.

“Damn it, Harold. I told you!” She raged at me, pacing. “I just… I just can’t do this anymore!” tears started dripping down her cheeks. I went to hug her, but she just pushed me away. “Harold, no. I won’t bring you down. Or Mark.” At the mention of our son, I looked down.

“He needs you, Betty. Be there for him.” My own voice was wavering

“He’s almost twenty!” Betty practically screamed, eyes aflame.

“Betty, listen to me, for god’s sake. He’s your son!” I cried out, attempting to make her see reason.

“I’m sorry, Harold. I just can’t. I can’t let me ruin your time!” Her face was split between pure sadness and red-hot anger.

“Betty, please, just listen to me!”

“No! I won’t!”

“God damn, Betty, do you e--”

“What’s going on?” Mark asked, coming in from the front door. “I rang you guys like five times!” He saw Betty’s face, and my own, and he darkened.

“Go away, Mark.”

“No.”

“Mark, I’ve been diagnosed. You were right. It’s lung cancer.” Her face simply showed defeat.

“Ma… Is there a c--”

“No.” I watched the exchange with sad eyes.

“Betty…” I tried to get through to her.

“Harold, no.” She told me off. Her eyes hardened. “Go, both of you.”

Mark moved and went for the door. I followed. The last thing I saw was a flash of silver flying out of the open window and into the garden.

She tossed it out the window, and I guess this is where it landed. If only she were still here, maybe she could have cleaned it up. Betty was the only one who had a hand small enough to clean rings. That was the record high of the year, in a hot, dry July. It was August when I found it.

It was silver, probably a size 6 or so. I remember when I got it for her. It was on her 57th birthday, and I remember that it was just a little too small. As she got older, she shrunk a little bit, and it fit perfectly. Not my intention but it works, I suppose.

She cleaned it once a month, usually on the first Sunday after church. That ring wasn’t expensive at the time, but by now it probably would be. That old thing could be an antique. I betcha’ I could sell it to that young fellow down at the antique shop. Probably not. It held too much sentimental value.

She took good care of it. Kept it pretty and all, shining like the mid-morning sun through slick grey clouds. It was almost always on her finger, at least after she had lost her thinner, studded gold one. It fell down the drain while she was doing the dishes. That one wasn’t quite as symbolic as I’d hoped. Or, for a wedding band, at least. We never saw it again, after that day.

I remember her singing on the front porch, humming along with the birdsong. She had a knack for that kind of thing. She always had a wonderful voice. Or, it was wonderful to me. For all I know she could have sounded like a beached whale. My ears were never super accurate.

When I found it, that silver ring was doggone’ tarnished, and had a layer of crusted dirt. I could recognize that ring from a mile away. Maybe ten feet, as it was.

I took it to Larry’s Silver Polish shop about two years ago, got it all nice and fixed up.  I hung it from a little hook on the porch, over where she used to sit.

With the changing music styles and the influx of tourists and all, I think I might lose my little sanctuary, as happy as it makes me. My back aches and my eyes are starting to fail. I think that soon, very soon, I’ll get to see her again.

As I lay in bed tonight, I realize:

I can still hear her singing on the breeze.

Author's Note

Not planning on publishing this, but it's one of my favorite things so far! Please tell me how to make it better!