Explaining the unexplainable

I found a ring two nights ago in the First Avenue subway station on my way home. It was the middle of the night and the station was deserted. The ring lay on the dirty concrete, catching the reflection of the dim flickering lights. I picked it up and looked around for the owner, there was no one in sight. I slipped it into my pocket and sat down.

I have a tendency to create stories in my mind to explain the unexplainable. Waiting for the train my mind started to spin the tale of the ring. Perhaps this ring was important, perhaps it meant the world to someone...

...Margaret gave John her ring before she left for Thanksgiving. She was from Seattle and was going home for five whole days. They stood in his cramped East Village apartment and wondered how they would handle the separation.

“It’ll be fine.” John said. “I’ll call you every day.”

“It’s sooo long,” she said, and they embraced. They had been together for five months. But hadn’t spent more than three days apart.

“Here,” she said nonchalantly, and pressed the ring into his palm. “Wear it around your neck.”

John bought a simple chain and wore it while she was gone and long after she came back. It became one of those things. He liked wearing it. They went ice skating, took carriage rides in Central Park, stared at the New York City skyline and did those other things that you might see set to a jazz riff in a Woody Allen movie. The ring tucked warmly under his collar.

One night, he was out at a bar without her. There were many attractive young women there. After many glances down at the ring, John went into the bathroom. He decided it was fine to take it off; no need to broadcast his personal life. That night, he carried the ring in his pocket.

Everyone knew they were together. The relationship was becoming routine. John kept a toothbrush at her apartment and a change of clothes in her dresser. They started growing apart. He stopped carrying the ring and they started to fight. They decided to take a break as Margaret was going home for three weeks to be with her family. John was to fly out to Seattle to meet Margaret, and they would re-evaluate their relationship.

The ring ended up in an old glass salsa container he’d washed out and was using to hold his change. He found it while searching for quarters to do laundry in preparation for his trip.

John had a great time in Seattle. He remembered thinking how much he loved Margaret. But there were things holding them back; they no longer trusted each other. They could no longer be themselves. They weren’t happy.

At the airport in Seattle, sitting with his bags, John listened as Margaret broke up with him. He was cool and collected. She was a wreck. And John caught many worried glances from other passengers who misread the situation and thought that he had said something awful to her.

When he got back to New York, he threw the ring at the wall of his East Village apartment.

Margaret returned from Seattle and she and John tried to stay friends. But in the end, it was impossible. They fought whenever they saw each other. He gave her back her toothbrush and they fell out of touch.

They ocassionally ran into each other living nearby and having many mutual friends. And they were always cordial.

The ring still sat among the quarters of his change jar.

One day, much later, Margaret called John and asked if he would have lunch with her. He accepted, feeling the desire to reconcile on some level. They met at a Mexican spot on MacDougal Street.

“I’m moving,” Margaret said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“To Africa, to teach English.”

John didn’t know what to say. He stared blankly into her eyes. She smiled.

“That’s great.”

She nodded.

John was impressed. He was taken back. He remembered why he had been in love with her.

“I’m leaving in a month.”

John wondered if he would ever see her again. They made plans to meet again. But those plans were cancelled and rescheduled and cancelled and rescheduled. And before he knew it, John received the invitation to her going-away party. She was leaving in a week. He hadn’t seen her since she told him she was leaving.

John called and asked if she wanted to have coffee a few days before her party. She accepted.

Early that morning he awoke. He crossed to his change jar and dumped the quarters onto his bed. He found the ring. He looked at it for the first time in months and decided that he should give it back. She deserved to have it.

He awkwardly handed it to her while they waited for their coffee. She blinked and stared at it.

“Blast from the past, huh?” John said. She smiled and slipped it into her pocket.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said.

They chatted about travel plans, old friends and goodbyes. John’s mind on the ring.

John arrived late to her party. He ran into old friends and drank heavily. He looked at his watch. It was way later than he had expected. He decided it was time for him to go home.

When he told her he was leaving she took him aside. They hugged.

“Are you sad?” she asked.

“I’ll miss you.” John said. He told her he was sorry for not being around more. He told her that he would always have good memories, that he hoped to see her again.

Margaret told him that she had something for him. He was surprised. Again she pressed the ring into his hand. It was not what he expected.

“Don’t forget about me,” she said. He promised that he wouldn’t and left.

Outside he dragged on a cigarette. Not knowing exactly what to think. Not knowing where to go, or what to do. He started to cry.

He took the L-train home and got off at First Avenue. He bent down to tie his shoelace before continuing home.

He awoke the next morning frantic. He searched his pockets for the ring, to no avail—it was nowhere to be found. But, for the first time snce the break-up, he felt good about the relationship. He felt like he could finally concentrate on the present and enjoy the old memories he would cherish. He was somehow glad to have lost the ring, yet wondered where he had left it...

...The train arrives and I get on, slipping the ring onto my pinky and thinking about Margaret and the stories the ring held.