Things We Didn't Say Yesterday #4

All things being equal, it's mostly your fault

"That make no sense," Chris said. "It's not my fault. At least, not mostly. We were once in this together, you know." He watched Cindy to see if she'd flinch, but she didn't bat an eye. He gave her credit for that self-control.

Cindy was eating a vanilla ice cream cone. She said she'd have been on time if not for the idiot behind the counter who hadn't served plain vanilla in so long he didn't know which bucket to scoop from. "It is mostly your fault, Chris," Cindy said. "Or, now, I guess "was" is the correct word. It was mostly your fault."

"I'm the person I've always been, Cindy. How can you hate me so much now when you loved me so much then?"

Cindy concentrated on the stream of ice cream that had melted onto her thin ring finger. Chris could see that the skin beneath where the ring had been was still slightly lighter than the skin around it. He wondered how long the tan-line would take to disappear.

"I don't hate you," Cindy said. "I have never said that."

"I feel like you do."

"You feel wrong, then. And you're not the same person as you once were; that's stupid. Nobody stays the same. At least, nobody should stay the same. I'm not the same, I know that. I think that's what happened: we changed, but we didn't change together."

"We didn't give ourselves long enough. We could have...I don't know, tried to change differently."

"We've been through this. And now it's too late. We've gone our separate ways. I like things now. I feel different--better. More relaxed. We did nothing but fight for nearly two years."

"I know. But I'm angry now. I was hurt before, and now I'm just angry."

"We can't get back together."

"I didn't say I wanted that."

"I feel like you're about to say it."

"You're wrong, Cindy. Anger doesn't necessarily equal desperation."

"I'm sorry. Maybe I'm angry, too," she said when she sat across from him again.

"Why didn't you say that before, that you thought this was all my fault?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm stronger now."

"What does that mean, anyway--that's it's my fault? What is my fault?"

"We're not together again, are we."

"That's my fault? I'm not the one who wanted things to end."

"We've been through this."

"I'm not sure we have. Not all of it. Each time we talk, I learn something new about how you feel. Or felt."

"Chris...".

"Don't be so deadpan about this."

"I'm not. I'm tired. I don't want to keep living this over and over, Chris. Let's just do this. I want to go home."

He looked at her, and from the look on her face he could tell there was nothing else to say. He liked how the cool breeze brushed against the sweat beneath the hair on his neck.

"Here," Cindy said. She stretched her arm across the table and dropped her wedding ring into the palm of his hand.

He looked at the shiny gold and the smallish diamond. "I remember when we bought this," he said.

"I want yours," she said plainly.

"Yes, you do," he said. He pulled his ring off his finger, looked at the scratches on it, and dropped it onto the table.

She picked it up without a second glance and dropped it into her purse. "I wanted silver, you know," she said.

"Silver?"

"Rings. I never wanted gold. I wanted silver."

"What? Why didn't you say anything?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't want to hurt your feelings. You got so excited about these. It was nice."

"Silver would've been fine."

She stood up, set the strap of her purse onto her shoulder, and looked toward the parking lot. "You think these are worth anything now?"

He laughed. "They weren't worth much then. They were all we could afford."

She started walking away. "I've got to go." And she did.

Chris watched for a minute, at how here heels wobbled a bit in the high grass. He closed his fingers around the ring and thought that it seemed heavier than it did years ago.

I Read the News Today, Oh, Boy

Someone could tell me right now that I look like I've lost my best friend, and that wouldn't be too far from the truth. At least, a boyhood best friend, someone I have not seen for at least 2 decades. He was replaced by other best friends over the years, but, perhaps because of other things going on right now, his dying seems especially cutting.

Our fathers worked together for many years, until our family was sent into California exile at a time in my life when I shouldn't have been going anywhere. But, sometimes we have choices; sometimes we don't. He was more of a trouble-maker and certainly braver than I ever was, but we shared many escapades, some of of which were downright dangerous and life-threatening but even today are also secret. Hell, now that he's dead, the secrets are even stronger. My grandfather met him once and told me later that "the has the devil in him." He was right.

Until my family moved to California, though, I was able to keep him out of serious trouble if not potentially serious danger. Don't get me wrong: I wasn't smarter; I was just more of a coward. But, from California, I couldn't do much for him. He ended up in more jail cells than I know of, and, I think in Southern California where he lived with a Mexican woman and her kids, the police had cause to shoot him. Bad stuff.

Again, though, maybe it's the other stuff dancing around me that makes this whole thing seem worse. I'd like to learn how he died, whether or not he had it coming, whether he had a choice. Regardless, I hope things are better for him now.