On Her Right Hand was a Ring

         There was happiness all around, as there should have been.  The day was to be one full of memories, old, new, borrowed, and blue. Family sat with friends waiting for the show, laughing and carrying on about the foolish actions of children. Laughter and cheer decorated the temple, hanging in the air like smoke filling a bar. All around, happiness permeated the building, floating down every hall, filling every room.
         She could hear it all. She was surrounded by it, of course. Her closest friends gushed and giggled, helping with her dress, primping her hair. All of them were sharing the fondest of memories. She caught her reflection and realized how beautiful she looked, and remembered how beautiful she was before. Part of her wanted to forget the memory, to escape this feeling of déjà vu.
         Her own laughter faded, as her mind went back to that day; the day just like this one; when she couldn’t have imagined herself any happier; when the future seemed impossibly bright.  Of course all stars burn out eventually, and the darkness came upon her, bringing tears. She never thought he’d leave her. Never suspected she’d be going through all of this again, with someone else. She asked for a moment alone, sending away even her closest friend.
         She just wanted to reflect.
         Then he came in.
          “You know half of my family is out there,” he said with a smile. “I always said they loved you more than me.”
         She dabbed her eyes and silently laughed. He always had that effect.
He wanted to give her away, now that her father was gone. He thought in a way it was fitting, since he was her first. There were no feelings lost, but still she felt unease.
         “Are you still worried because he’s my best friend?” he asked. She just stared in the mirror, unmoving. “I told you, I’m fine. He makes you happy, and I just can’t anymore.”
         She said nothing, but smiled at the sentiment, playing with her ring.
         “The color change is nice, not that I notice that stuff, or anything,” he joked. “The flowers really brighten the place. I didn‘t think you liked roses. I prefer the daffodils.”
         She looked around to ensure secrecy then opened the locket no one knew of on her necklace. And she gazed upon his tiny picture, letting the good memories flood over her. She wasn’t sure why, perhaps she was seeking approval, or just saying goodbye to an old life. As the dam of her eyes broke, tears dragged black chunks of mascara across her cheeks.
         “Oh! Well there go those pictures,” he joked, “And you made such a big deal out of ours. I hope you can fix that.”
         She laughed at herself, and at her situation. It was all because of him that she was this way. It was his doing that put her here in this church, about to marry this man, who was once his best man. She remembered how nothing could be simple with him. Even his family tree was a tangle of vines. People couldn’t be good or bad, honest or dishonest; there were layers and layers and layers of difficulty and often misunderstanding. He’d be laughing at this absurd day, just as she was.
         She closed the locket, but kept it on. He should be a part of this, she thought.
         On her right hand was a ring that she continually played with. It was a nervous habit; she’d twist it around her finger when faced with a difficult decision. Now she was deciding whether or not to take it off.
         “Don’t wear that thing,” he said. But she couldn’t hear him. Ghosts have no voice on this side. They only exist as memory.
         She wanted to wear it, but thought it would be inappropriate. She wanted to remove it but thought it might soil his memory.
         Twist. Leave it on…
         Twist. Take it off…..
         Twist…….
         A knock at the door and her matron entered, carrying flowers.
         “These just came. There’s no note, but its thirteen daffodils. Kind of weird.”
         Twist…..
         “Everyone gets a dozen flowers,” he used to say.
         She smiled wide, and removed the ring.


ON HER RIGHT HAND WAS A RING

Bradley Johnson