It's Got A Ring To It

by Desconhecido(a)

“I don’t know what I wanted. Figured I would've been fine either way, but now I don’t know. I think, deep down, I was hopeful. The idea of being a family again, it just felt good.” A small forced smile crept across his face. “I don’t know if I’ll even be any good at it. But, that’s that, I guess.”

  It hurt me to see him so depleted. All this time, I thought being pregnant would have meant the end of us, but the way he’d reacted gave me a new resolve. It gave me an idea. Myles perched next to me on my barely used couch that I only ever used for company.

  “Myles, this couch is new, you know. Never been fully broken in,” I patted at the firm cushion, scooting closer to him. “Think maybe you could help me with that?”

  His demeanor loosely shifted, in feigned shock. “Laila?”

  “Yes, Mr. Donovan?” I teased.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “You seemed so down, when I told you we weren’t pregnant. I was thinking, maybe we could get started making one. Have some fun while we’re doing it.” I reclined against the armrest, and confidently, propped my arms behind my head.

  “Oh, is that what you were thinking?” He crawled atop, and lowered the full length of his bodyweight down. Gently, he kissed me, using his tongue to pry open my lips, then we savored the taste of each other’s mouths.

  When I awoke, a loud white-haired man on a television infomercial, with too much spunk, yelled about the superior suction power on some new vacuum cleaner. Still dazed, I watched it suck up marbles while cleaning a myriad of staining liquids. Lifting my head slightly off Myles chest, I could see the clock above the pantry door in the kitchen. It was only ten in the morning. Sunday morning. As I slowly sat up, a crook in my neck cracked loudly. We never made it to the bedroom, and my body punished me for it.

  I stole a quick peck on Myles sleeping lips and bee-lined for the kitchen to make breakfast. Not a minute after I’d cracked the eggs and yolk spread all over my hands, did the phone ring. Out of paper towels and not a clean dishtowel in sight, I resorted to wiping them on my shirt since it was laundry day.

  “Hello,” I uttered in a muffled tone, practically whispering.

  “Have I caught you at a bad time?” murmured a deep throaty male voice.

  “Who is this?”

  “Laila, it’s me. Stop playing around. I know you don’t want to talk to me anymore, but we need to meet.”

  “What do you want, Ethan?”

  “The pearls.” He whispered ineffectually, but it blared through the phone, as if he was covering the receiver with his hand.

  “I’ll mail them to you,” I stated abruptly, ready to click off.

  “Listen, I’ll be on your side of town today around three at that little coffee shop next to the theater. Can you just meet me there? I promise I won’t take up more than five minutes of your time.”

  “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “I know.”

  “But, I’d do the unthinkable to get rid of you for good. I’m really—What is it? You guys have radar, or something? Every time I find happiness, you try to call or find some way of slivering back into my life. Is that what you want, me to think about you? I’m so sure that you need a set of pearls, like it’s a life or death emergency.” Before I knew it, anger seethed in my voice, echoing throughout the room. He’d gotten the rise out of me that he wanted. “Ethan, you need to get a life,” I yelled. I’d all but forgotten that Myles was asleep on the couch. Was. Myles stared directly at me. A deer in headlights, I was too embarrassed to say anything. Plus, I’d been ranting, and who knew how much he’d actually heard.

  “Just be there, Laila,” Ethan demanded, undeterred.

  It’s only natural to want to get that last word in edgewise, but with Myles staring at me, seemingly bemused, I couldn’t quite speak so freely. Still pissed, but mostly embarrassed, I pressed the red end button and returned my attention to Sleeping Beauty, who beckoned me over with outstretched arms.

  Trailing sweet kisses along the nape of his inviting neck up to his supple lips, my hands combed playfully through his mussed morning hair. Even after a long night of blissfully tossing and turning, he was gorgeous—and mine.

  ***

  Outside, the raw light of day blinded my eyes shut. I squinted as I pulled my sweater tighter against the chill of the afternoon air. It was nearly a quarter to three and we hadn’t made it out of the house. Save for food, we would have been hold up in the fort for the day. As luck, and a fierce game of rock-paper-scissors, would have it, I was the chosen one to grab pizza to replenish our famished bodies.

  The thought of Giovanni’s Pizzeria sent the wheels in my head turning. Ethan. The pearls. I could get rid of him for good. Just drop off the pearls and wipe my hands clean. It seemed simple enough. About ten minutes for our order to be ready, and I could drop off the pearls and be back in no time. The pizzeria was two doors down from the café where he would be.

  Hastily, I ran back into the house, past Myles, who was looking quite delectable in boxers, lying on the couch. “Don’t shower without me,” I yelled with sexy innuendo dripping from my words, ducking into the bedroom. The pearls were tucked in the bottom of my underwear drawer, so I slyly nabbed them like some 007 secret agent and stuffed them in the pocket of my sweater. When he looked at me expectantly, wondering what I was doing back so fast, without the pizza, I answered his unasked question, “Forgot my phone,” I lied.

  As soon as the words came out, I felt like a complete fraud. One teensy break from our time held up in the house, and already I’d deceived him. Guiltily, I rushed back to the car in a hurry to redeem my innocence. One glimpse in the rearview mirror spoke volumes about my state of mind. Frazzled and a hot mess. I tried to convince myself that it was just a quick run and it didn’t matter what I looked like, but the idea of seeing Ethan like this did give me pause. Only a brief pause.

  Impatiently, I shifted from one foot to the other, fuming as I waited in line for my order to be taken. Only one register was open and the stubby balding man at the front of the line stared blankly at the menu while five or six of us behind him got an aerial view of the light reflecting off his round head. Finally, the blowhard made a commitment to pepperoni, pineapples, and anchovies, before I blew a gasket. Face to face with the snotty kid at the counter, I ordered quickly while I took in the myriad of his piercings and tattoos.

  “It’ll be about ten minutes for the supreme.” He sucked his crooked teeth, regarding the growing line. In the back of my mind, I calculated the time to get to the cafe and back—time would run thin, but it would be enough.

  Ethan was already seated at the bar facing the front windows when I rounded the corner to the entrance. He didn’t turn to face me or rise from his seat. Just as well. We weren’t meeting to catch up on old times. This was a farewell, severing of ties. I pulled the pearls from my sweater pocket and placed them on the counter in front of him. “Here.” I turned to leave.

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes. That’s it. You have the pearls, and I don’t have anything else of yours, so if there’s nothing else, I have somewhere to be.”

  “I thought we could at least be cordial to each other, Laila.”

  “Ethan, the fact that I showed up here to bring you the pearls is cordial enough.” I continued toward the exit.

  “It’s because I’m moving on without you. You’re angry.” His tone was accusatory and everything in me told me to go through the door and never look back, but he knew how to get under my skin.

  I knew I’d bitten the bait, but I couldn’t miss this moment. Like poetry, I hung the carrot out in front of him. “The world does not revolve around you, Ethan. Imagine that, other people finding happiness and love. And, it doesn’t involve you. Honestly, the audacity.”

  “Love?”

  Predictable. Out of everything I said all Ethan heard was love. He couldn’t bear the thought of me finding happiness without him. I could’ve rambled on for hours, but he would pinpoint the one thin
g that challenged his manhood. His ability to get the girl.

  “What do you mean, love?” he asked again, seeming increasingly more irritated.

  Just to drive it all the way home, I clarified for the sake of his mystified ego. “Yes, Ethan. I’m in love with Myles and he’s in love with me.” The coup de grâce. Instantly my mood lightened. I was his woman in a bottle. He’d kept me on the shelf to open in case of emergencies when his ego needed boosting. His fallback plan with my consent, and I’d snatched it back with something that resembled gumption.

  Ethan mumbled on in response, but I heard nothing. I drifted into the movement in the background. Just beyond him, a sullen Myles surveyed the quarrelsome menagerie on display behind the looking glass. In that moment, there was no one else but the two of us. Ethan was a blurry silhouette shuffling at my peripheral. A non-entity. Myles made no attempt to enter the café or assess the situation and my feet cemented to the checkered tiles. There was nothing more to say or do. It was about trust and I had betrayed his. As he turned, I noticed my wallet in his hand.

  I should have left the moment I saw him. I should have ran until my breath was ragged and spent. Until, I found him and dispelled any notion other than my unconditional love. But, I stood there. Void, in disbelief. It couldn’t be real. I couldn’t lose Myles. The weight of the wall I built, released on my heart. I was wounded from the inside out.

  Slowly, it registered that Myles was gone and an urgency to get him back overcame me. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was panicking. Running through the possible routes home. In a tailspin, a leg behind and the race was already over. Without logic or reason, I made it home. Frantically, I fiddled with the key and the door fluttered ajar—a mocking welcome to deafening silence. Hurriedly, I made my way through the house, calling out his name. Hoping against all hopes that he would be there. The clean house answered me. His cell phone was gone from the kitchen counter. The suit jacket that he’d strewn across the back of the sofa wasn’t there either. In the bedroom, the neatly smoothed and arranged covers left no signs that we had made love there only a few hours before.

  Over a dozen times his phone went straight to voicemail. It wasn’t off, he was ignoring me and I couldn’t really blame him. What did I expect him to do, join in on the secret reunion? Why hadn’t I just told him about the pearls and been honest? Communication and trust, Dr. Reese would always drill into me. “Talk to people, they’re only human,” she’d say, so profoundly. It’s the human nature that I always questioned. I plopped down on the bed with my feet above the wicker headboard, memorizing the settling cracks in the ceiling, as I replayed the day’s events, bargaining with God. We hadn’t talked in a while, but He never failed me.

  God, it’s me. I know I don’t pray as much as I should, but please make things right with Myles and me. I’m ready to love again. I’m finally ready to take the leap again. So, if he’s the one, don’t hesitate. I don’t want to wait another day.

  Nothing happened. I didn’t dare move an inch or make a sound as I waited, in case there was a sign. But, there was no divine whisper. Nothing moved inexplicably. No picture fell off the wall. No breeze swept through the curtains. The phone didn’t ring. Halfheartedly, I thought something would happen. That’s just not the way prayer worked, though. What we wanted never happened in the time we wanted it and it was never exactly what we wanted. It was more like a conversation between old friends and then when some time passed and you go somewhere you haven’t gone, physically or emotionally, He showed up right on time. I had this office job right after college with great benefits and steady income, but I hated it. Only, it was kind of hard when you have to be a grown-up and fend for yourself without a safety net. So, it was either, get comfy in my rut with great insurance, or get uncomfortable rolling the dice on life—fighting for something I was actually passionate about. When the days at the company got increasingly more unbearable, it was Him, showing up. A life barometer, guiding me. When things kept getting worse, it was Him flashing the U-turn sign. Turn around and go the other way. A blinking arrow, pointing me in the right direction. Things between Myles and me couldn’t get much worse. I was just waiting for the arrow.

  Two days later, the phone did ring. And whether I wanted to, or not, I had to get out of my pajamas and stop living on Hot Pockets. At least long enough for Lena’s final meeting at Mom’s to pin down the wedding day timeline and tie up any loose ends. She was unsympathetic to my cries for solitude, since she said I brought it all on myself. She’d grown an affection for Myles and had apparently warned him against me, and my affinity for being, “down in the dumps,” she spit the words out, as if they were rancid on her tongue.

  “What time are you heading over?” Lena demanded, very no nonsense.

  “You said five, right? I’ll be there at five. Now leave me alone.”

  “I’m just making sure. Laila, you need to pull yourself together here. The offer still stands if you want me to come over to help you get dressed. Don’t forget to wear that cute floral dress I bought you. Remember we’re going for happy hour after. You need to look hot.”

  “For who?”

  “For—” At first I was struck by the slight hesitation in her voice, but this was Lena. She was always up to something and I didn’t really care to sit on the phone for another thirty minutes while she went into the gritty details. “For me. I can’t have you with me looking like a disaster, when I’ll be glowing in premarital grace.” For a few more minutes, she ran down her checklist, meticulously locking down times, costs, and confirmations until I’d served my purpose for the time being. “Well, I don’t have time to chitchat, I was just calling to make sure you dragged yourself out of the bed. So, I’ll see you at five.”

  By the time I did drag myself into the bathroom to get ready, I had to agree with Lena’s assessment of my current form. It was more than just looking haggard. Beyond my sharpened jawline, my face was gaunt and blanched. Dark circles doubled the size of my eyes and my mussed hair was a brittle, lifeless, tumbleweed nest in clip, hanging on by its last coiled spring. I’d been marinating in my own funk for two days and I didn’t even want to know the extent of the halitosis. For I don’t know how long, I stood in the shower doing a complete cleansing overhaul: showering, shampooing, deep conditioning, shaving, and brushing my teeth. I gave every surface some desperately needed attention.

  The dress Lena picked out for me seemed a little more semiformal, cocktail dress than a visit at Mom’s and happy hour, but at least I wouldn’t have to figure out what to wear on top of plucking and tweezing. Plus, it had pockets, which is functional and convenient. In the mirror, I twisted to see the tropical orange and pink tea-length empire dress from each angle. It fit nicely without me having to suck in, cinch, or squeeze. I paired it with some neutral taupe pumps and a simple gold necklace and earring set. As I blow-dried and styled my hair into a messy chignon, I was pleased with the vast improvement in the mirror.

  Mom’s street was uncharacteristically empty. Usually, the neighborhood kids were playing and people were getting home from work, but it was completely deserted. The clock on the dashboard said four forty-five. Lena and Sam should have been there. Or at the very least, Mom’s car should have been in the driveway. For a second, I sat back, surveying the block. Rows of expertly landscaped yards. The cookie-cutter homes in a select variety of earth tones. The homeowners association had done its job. Not one piece of trash or a plastic bag blowing in the wind. It was still.

  My eyes were trained on the rearview mirror as I dialed Lena. “Where are you?” I questioned. Noise blared in the background. It sounded like people were yelling right at her ear.

  “Um…stopping…at the store.” The hubbub seemed to die down. “Hold on, it’s my other line.”

  “Hello? Lena?” The line went silent. I didn’t hear a beep or anything. “Lena, what the heck are you up to?”

  “Hello?” She popped back onto the line out of thin air.

  “Yes. I’m here. The question is w
hat are you doing? What’s all the pandemonium?”

  “Geez, Laila. When did you become Sherlock?”

  “Since you’ve been up to no good. Anyway, I just wanted to see where you are because I’m here, but I don’t see anyone’s cars.”

  “You’re where?”

  “At Mom’s.”

  “Thought you weren’t coming ‘til five?” She sounded antsy and worried.

  “Make up your mind, Lena. First, you’re worried I won’t make it, now you’re pissed that I’m five minutes early. I can’t keep up. Whenever you decide to show up to your own meeting, I’ll be waiting in the living room.”

  “No.” The word was drawn out and desperate, though firm. “No, don’t go in yet, Laila. Wait for me to get there so we can go in together.”

  “What the heck, Lena? You’re acting really weird. We’re not in high school anymore. You don’t need me glued to your hip. Everyone likes you. You’re already the most popular.”

  “Just wait.” She hung up.

  Shit. Just to piss her off, I wanted to go in, but I was still curious about why the block was so quiet. Ten minutes. That’s what I would give her. Ten minutes, while I watched for cars, or some sign of life. Exactly five minutes went by, and no cars arrived or left the street. It was like the Twilight Zone. I was ready to report something to someone, when Mrs. Lattimore, who lived across from my parents, went to the community mailbox and directly back into her house. Not a moment later, as I returned my attention back to the rearview mirror, Lena showed up, on foot. Something did not add up. She was fabulous in a yellow strapless knee-length dress cinched at the waist and four-inch heels. If there was one thing that was true about Lena, she didn’t walk or run unless it was on a treadmill in an air-conditioned gym with water bottles and towels.

  “Now I know something’s up,” I reasoned, hopping out, flitting the keyless remote toward the car to arm it.

  “You didn’t see Sam drop me off? He forgot one bag at the store and went back for it,” she said in one long run-on sentence, all without making eye contact with me once.