Things We Didn't Say Yesterday #11

It's like happiness

But there were good memories, too.

He was driving toward the park--a neutral location--where they'd decided to meet to exchange rings yet again: his to her, hers to him. A simple reversal. They could then do whatever they wished with the rings. Final dusk was just minutes away, and the western horizon was clear so that long lengths of sunlight could enter through the passenger-side window and illuminate the dashboard. The moon roof was open all the way, and the cool air washed across his face and forehead. As he passed the high school, the cadence of a marching band became loud, then faded. He wasn't sure of how to feel as the high school dropped behind him, but he didn't feel anger. It was more of that post-coital feeling of blended contentment and melancholy. It was an odd feeling that soon enough was gone.

Now, driving, he remembered their first meeting, how a mutual but now-dead friend had thought it would be a good idea if they met at a local artist's showing of nature photography. And it was a good idea. Roxie, the friend who also owned the studio, had left them alone for a few minutes not long after the introduction. "Talk about something," she said.

Chris didn't remember what they'd talked about, but he remembered the first time he saw her. She was almost as tall as he was, and blond in a good way. One corner of her mouth turned a bit upward when she smiled, and he'd always found that attractive. Roxie returned soon enough, and she told them both that she hoped they hadn't talked about sports or the weather.

He'd often wondered at how easily the good memories had become subservient to bad experiences. Or, maybe they were simply subsumed.

He saw her as soon as he turned into the park. For most of the day he'd hoped that this exchange would be more difficult than he now realized it would be. She was sitting on top of a picnic table. Across the park a group of young men played soccer. She watched him walk from his car to the table, and he knew her smile was false because the corners of her mouth stayed at the same level.

"Hi," she said. She opened her palm to reveal her silver wedding ring and its single diamond.

"Hi."

"You ready to do this?"

"Yeah, I am. It doesn't seem as bad as signing all the papers, does it?"

She shook her head. "No, it doesn't."

He removed his wedding band from his finger. He looked at it and the indentation that it left behind.

"You never took it off?" she asked.

"A few times. It just seemed easier to keep the thing on my finger, you know? So it didn't get lost."

"A good idea." She stretched her arm and her open palm to him. "Here."

When he pinched the ring between his fingers, he felt the familiar softness of her hand. He dropped his ring into the same palm, and she closed her fingers tightly and withdrew her hand.

"A piece of cake," she said.

"I want to tell you something, Cindy."

"Are you going to yell?"

"No."

"Okay. What?"

"Your smile. I always liked it. It's what attracted me to you."

"You never told me that, did you."

"I don't know. I think I did. If not, I should have. It's like happiness."

She seemed confused. "It's like happiness? A smile is happiness, isn't it?"

"Maybe I didn't think it through, but it's what I was thinking nonetheless."

"That's a strange note to end all of this on, isn't it?

"How can the ending of 'all this' be any stranger than it started?"

She looked across the park to the soccer game. "I've got to go." She got down from the table, looked at the ring in her hand, then pocketed it and strode off.