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The Ring
A CCS fanfic by Sakura [kinomoto@edsamail.com.ph]
Standard disclaimers apply.
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Do you really want
to know what happened that day? If you
promise not to laugh, I'll tell you everything. Of course I won't glaze over certain details, although right now
I'm starting to have second thoughts about this because I can already see your
mouth starting to twitch in anticipation.
Don't laugh.
All right.
The saleslady
leaned over the counter with the small velvet box that cost more than half of
my (now dwindling) savings, giving me a knowing wink as she pressed it into my
trembling palm. Here you go, sir, thank you very much. And oh, she lowered her voice into a
conspiratorial whisper, good luck!
I must've looked
stupid standing there, rooted to the spot, gaping at the box in my hand because
she giggled and whispered reassuringly, don't worry, I'm sure she'll like
it. It's a very beautiful ring.
And how I wanted
to grab her by her silk scarf and scream in her well-painted face, do you know
what you just made me do here?! You
actually made me buy a ring! I'm giving
this ring to a CHILD, for heaven's sake!!
That's right. Because you ARE a child, although you act
and talk as if you were a woman about my age.
Sometimes.
Anyway.
Instead of handing
over the box and asking for my money back however, I smiled stiffly and managed
to turn around and walk out of the store, unsure of where to go next. I ended up at a cafe where I had a cup of
coffee and a good smoke.
I only had one
stick, mind you. And at that time I
still hadn't promised to give up smoking, remember?
Anyway, I fished
out the box from my coat and stared at it.
My head was reeling. To give or
not to give. My mother's voice suddenly
rang out in my head; she called again the previous night, asking about my ---
as she so lovingly put it --- miserable bachelor's life, urging me to go out
and buy a ring and give it to the first girl I fall head over heels in love
with. There must be somebody, ANYBODY
out there, she declared, and I could almost see her rolling her eyes heavenward
at the demise of her only son, a grade school teacher earning a decent salary,
living alone at the age of twenty-five, no love life to speak of
whatsoever. Before she went on to
propose to fix me up for a marriage meeting (like she does just about every
time she calls me up), I took a deep breath and finally told her yes, I was in
love, and yes, in fact, I was just about to go out and buy a ring. She was quiet for about three seconds, then
she shrieked into the receiver, so loud that I almost fell over in my seat. You're serious?! she was screaming. You're not serious!!!
Well, I WAS
serious. Or at least I thought I
was. But I was looking at the ring
again and I started having second thoughts about the whole thing. Proposing to a twelve year old? It was definitely crazy.
I hid the box in
my pocket, drained my cup and went home.
I tried to get
some sleep but I was too stressed out to relax, so I got a beer and took out
the test papers and started grading them.
(You got an A, as usual.) When I
finished I lay in bed thinking the same thoughts I've been thinking ever since
the time I realized that I was dead serious about you --- of all the people in
this whole world, why did it have to be you?
And why did you have to be twelve years old? If we DO get together, you grow up to be twenty or so and I'd
still be old enough to look like your father, and when you grow up to be even
older than that I'd look old enough to be your grandfather---
Et cetera, et
cetera.
I asked myself,
would you want to wear this ring in the first place? Okay, so you did ask for a ring, but would you wear it even after
finding out what it really stands for?
This ring will bind you to me.
Forever. You're so young;
there's so much ahead of you. There
will be other guys whom you can go places with, hold hands with freely, without
worry. You'll probably fall in love,
maybe lots of times. Then you'll
probably marry, have children, live happy.
Giving you a ring at twelve would weigh you down. I'd be keeping you from running free and
finding out things by yourself, I'd be holding you back from all the people you
still might meet, the loves you still might have...
So in the end, I
finally decided to keep the ring in my drawer and let it remain there until I
meet another woman --- preferably as old as I am or maybe a few years younger
--- whom I might fall in love with someday.
That is, if I still had my heart to give.
Sorry, I couldn't
resist a cliché every now and then.
Then before I knew
it, it was another day. I dressed up
and went to work. You knocked on the
door of the library in the afternoon, and looking into your lovely brown eyes I
knew you were nervously expecting it.
But I didn't give you anything; I talked and laughed as if nothing was
wrong, and soon your brown eyes were clouding over and your smile was fading
away and it was too much for me to bear.
So much for
keeping the ring in my drawer forever, then.
Tomorrow, I
whispered, tomorrow I'll give it to you.
I was tempted to add, remember, this ring isn't just a plaything, you
know. It took a hefty chunk out of my
salary and cost me my sanity. Cast it
away and I will be a broken man forever.
You said, tomorrow
then, and you smiled, and I was actually surprised to see that you
understood. Yes, you knew what the ring
meant; yes, you knew how much it meant to me; and yes, it meant a lot to you
too.
So the next day I
went up to you and slipped it on your finger.
And there you have
it.
But the story
doesn't end there.
In fact, it's just
beginning.
