“It’s not that.” She tried to think of how to phrase it, but she was suddenly afraid to say it aloud.
“Well then…” her mother pressed her lips together and looked at the piles on the floor. “Oh, I know what I meant to show you.” She leaned over and grabbed Nicole’s high school yearbook. “What about this?”
Nicole accepted it, paging through and smiling a little at the memories. She’d been a quiet kid, so there weren’t tons of pictures of her all over the place. But people had written some sweet and funny comments in the front and back pages. “I don’t know…maybe I’ll keep it,” Nicole said softly, closing the yearbook.
“You’ll want to show your children someday,” her mother said confidently.
“So, I need to explain about the wedding.”
Instantly, her mother made a face. “You don’t have to explain for my sake.”
“There’s not going to be one.”
“One what?”
“A wedding. We broke up.” She felt her jaw tremble and instantly told herself to knock it off.
Don’t cry in front of your mother—anything but that.
Her mother tried not to show her relief, but Nicole could see it written on her face, plain as day. “That’s too bad,” she said, trying to sound supportive. “What happened? Did you have a falling out?”
“It just didn’t work out,” Nicole said.
Her father hugged her and she put her face into his chest. He smelled like cigarettes, just as he always did, and it comforted her some.
“I think it’s for the best, honey,” her mother said.
She didn’t respond.
After they spent some more time cleaning her old room and putting clothes and things into plastic bags, they went to the kitchen and she helped her mom cook chicken breast and rice for dinner. This was like going back in time—the same patterns, habits and routines they’d always had.
The familiar patter between them was comfortable, if a little depressing at times. Her mother making comments and “suggestions” that Nicole invariably ignored. But there was one piece of advice that she couldn’t just ignore.
“What about the ring?” her mother asked, as she rubbed garlic powder into the chicken breast with her fingers.
“My engagement ring?”
“You returned it, I assume.”
“No. Not yet.”
Her mother stopped kneading the meat and turned to her. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.” Nicole was chopping veggies for the salad, but her knife was paused momentarily. “I suppose the right opportunity hasn’t presented itself.”
“There’s no right opportunity to return an engagement ring, Nicole.”
“True.”
“You need to send it back to him as soon as you get home. Stick it in the mail and be done with it.”
Nicole hated to admit it, but her mom had a point. Keeping that ring stuffed away in her shoe was just holding on to the past. A few tears rolled down her cheek now, as she thought about the act of putting her engagement ring in an envelope.
She was crying as she chopped the veggies, but it was okay. There were enough raw onions to have an excuse.
***
She got back to the city the next afternoon and rushed home, wanting—needing—to get the ring out in the mail that day before the last pickup.
It was still there, stuffed into the toe of her shoe. She dug it out and unwrapped it from the surrounding tissue paper. There it was, glimmering in the sunlight that streamed through her bedroom window. Nicole sat on her bed and stared at it, turning the ring over in her hands.
Saying goodbye to it was like saying a final goodbye to him. They’d only been together a short time, an inconsequential amount of time, really. Everyone had pointed that out to her, as if the heart cared a whit about time.
As far as her heart was concerned, Nicole and Red had loved each other for eternity and then some. Yet, intellectually she could explain how false that sensation was. Love required time and patience and attention, it took years to build a real, lasting relationship.
Then why did this feel like agony? If their short time together had been so meaningless and silly, why did she feel like this was going to kill her spirit?
Nicole couldn’t explain her emotions away. She was crying again as she wrapped the ring in newspaper until it was indistinguishable from anything else that might end up in an envelope. The last thing she wanted was for some nosey mail carrier to figure out what was in this plain looking envelope being delivered to the fancy house in Connecticut.
At around four o’clock, Nicole went to the nearest drop box and, without hesitation, pushed her envelope down the dark hole where it joined hundreds if not thousands of other similar pieces of mail.
Now it was truly done with.
***
A day and a half later, Nicole was at her first Yoga class. She’d decided that she needed to get out of the apartment more. Less watching TV and eating ice cream with Danielle, more motivating and getting the blood flowing again.