MY EX-BOYFRIEND’S RING (Part Two)

Teddy P

I was eighteen, he was nineteen.

I was shy when it came to boys, so he was my first kiss, my first date, my first love, my first everything.

Both of us were college students, so all he could afford on his student bursary was this li’l diamond chip.

But, it’s my most prized possession for so many reasons.

We dated for five years, until I left in search of greener.

I did get greener, bigger, better, but even though we live in different countries, I never forgot him, my first love. The boy who gave me all he had, all the time.

I talked to him the other day on Facebook. A mutual friend had told him that I had changed my status to ‘single’ on Facebook, so he wanted to know how I was.

We talked about his kids and my kids and our spouses and about life.

“You know, I still have the chain you bought me,” he said. “When we were dating. And I use it. Often.”

“What? You serious?”

“Absolutely. It’s my most prized possession.” His exact words. I couldn’t believe it.

I asked to see a picture of it, as I had forgotten what I bought him. He sent me a photo of a thin, flimsy, sterling silver chain. I laughed and cringed at its cheapness. He’s on the flashy side, so I was surprised that he’d wear something so simple.

“Does your wife know about it?” I asked.

“No, she thinks my mom gave it to me.”

“Mm. I still have your ring, you know.”

There was a small silence before he spoke. “You’re kidding me. You don’t actually have it, do you?”

“I have it.”

Another small silence. “Wow! Can I see a photo of it?”

“Okay, I will send you one tomorrow.”

So, I softened my cuticles, exfoliated my hands, painted my nails a pretty blue and took a picture of me wearing the ring.

“Wow!” he said when he saw the photo. “That’s a bloody cheap-ass ring I bought you. I’m so embarrassed, Eve.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “It’s my most prized possession, too. I’ve kept it in the safe behind all my other jewelry and my will, so that my husband (ex-husband now) wouldn’t find it and badger me into throwing it out. Like he did with all our photos.”

“I’m so touched that you kept it. Hey, I remember the day I bought you the ring. You had this big grin on your face and you kept waving your hands around so that your friends would notice.”

I laughed out loud.

He was right; you’d think it was an 8 carat Harry Winston pink diamond or something, the way I flashed it around. But I was 18 and even though I tried to dissuade him from buying me a ring, I was thrilled with it.

“I remember that day,” I said, as my laughter died and a wave of nostalgia washed over me.

It was a while before he broke the silence.

“Eve, besides the times when you look at the ring, do you …like, I mean, do you ever …think of …me? Of us?”

For five years, he was my life, my love and we spent every waking moment together.  What did he think my answer was going to be?

I cleared my throat.

(To be continued)

 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

September 23, 2013

Continued from Part One …

I wanted to say, “Yes, I think of you. I think of you often. More than I should. I wonder how you’re doing. I wonder if you achieved all that you dreamed off. I wonder if you ever think of me, of us. I wonder if you hate me. Maybe just a little. I wonder if you love her the way you loved me. I wonder if you remember my birthday, cos I never forget yours.” 

Chicken.

“Eh, you first,” is what I finally said.  

“All the time,” he blurted without hesitation. “Every time I bought something new, achieved something, I thought of you. Anytime something monumental happened in my life, I don’t know why, but I thought of you. How nice it would be to tell you about it. Not because I wanted to show off or something, but just because.”

I sat in my cloak of smugness. He thought about me.  All the time too. Wow!

“Like the time you got married?” I said. “You called me that day, remember?”

“Yeah, and you were such a bitch about it.”

“What, you expected me to jump for joy?” He had no idea how painful that phone call was for me. How I pretended I didn’t care, all the while wanting to simply die at the finality of our break-up.

“Well, you could have …”

“You got married like almost three months after we ended things. And she moved in with you right away! You guys were moving at an incredible speed which was confusing to me. So yeah, I believed that there was something was going on between the two of you while we were dating. I still do. Of course I was pissed off.  With her and you. She stole you from me.”

“But you left for …”

“And anyway, I challenge you to find a girl who says, ‘Congratulations, ex-boyfriend who I dated for five years. Hope you and that bitch lives happily ever after like Shrek,’ and does a joyful jig.”

“Shrek? Ha! Ha!”

“And did your wife know you called me that day?”

“Of course not. She’d die if she knew.”

“Mm. And why did you call me? I mean, how could you, on your wedding day of all days, call me, your ex-girlfriend? Something was wrong with that picture, boy.”

“Yeah…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Well, clearly you were thinking about me.” My voice oozed glee.

“Yeah, I was nuts.”

Bastard.

A short silence.

“Listen, I have to deliver a lecture. Three actually. Can we chat in about four hours? And can I call you?”

“It’s a long distance call!” I reminded him.

“Please, I really want to hear your voice. Please.”

“I…look, I really don’t …”

“Just this once. Please! Here’s my number…” He typed it in and hit send. “Message me your number. Now.”

After a slight hesitation, I said, “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I will.”

“No, say you promise.”

I smiled. “I promise.”

“Cool.” He sent me three smiley faces and xoxo.

I laughed and messaged him my number.

How should I end the conversation, I wondered?

Xoxo? No, hugs and kisses – too forward for our first convo.

C u later? Too cold.

Shit!

I typed in five smiley faces and hit send. It’ was neutral enough and he could read into it what he liked.

I logged off and peered at the clock. Four hours.

Quickly, I loaded the dishwasher, tidied the lounge, folded washing, fed the dog and cat and hastily assembled a chicken salad for dinner; all so that I could be free to free to talk to him in four hours.

To hear his voice after thirteen years.

The thought of it made me shiver with delight.  

I looked at the clock again. Only an hour has passed!

Damn!  

 When my phone rang three hours later (not four), with an Out of Area signal on it, my mouth went dry and I swallowed hard.

After several deep breaths, I answered. “H…hello?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“You sound the same,” he said, his voice full of excitement.

“Ohmigod, you sound the same too!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you do.”

“You …you don’t have an Aussie accent?”

“Well …”

“This is surreal,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Us talking. Just surreal.”

“Mm.”

“What’s your daughter’s names?” he asked.

“Billie and Sydney,” I answered. I wondered if he remembered that Billie had been significant to us. “What’s your kids’ names?”

“Joshua and …” His hesitation piqued my curiosity. “…Billie.”

I was stumped. Tears smarted my eyes, while he cleared his throat several times.

“Oh, man!” he said, his voice hoarse.

I nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see me.

 We both fell silent as nostalgia lingered.

“You know that song by Kid Rock? All summer long…whatever? Remember that song?

“Eh, vaguely,” I lied.

“You should listen to it. I downloaded it, and when I’m alone in the car, I blast it and think about you. Us.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. All the time. I always smile when I listen to it. Sometimes I laugh out loud when I think of all the things we did then. Then I get hit by a bout of nostalgia and I’m sad again.”

My heart sang at his confession.

“And I think Rags knows it’s significant, because once or twice when she got into my car, it was playing and she changed the song straight away.”

“Mm.”

Good. I silently hoped it burned her.

“And Passenger? Let her Go? Do you know that song?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah?”

“I turn it off when I hear it.”

“Off? Wwwwwhy? I loooove that song!”

It was a while before he answered. “Makes me sad. Disappointed. I don’t quite know why. Like, I love my wife, I love my family, I’m happy in my life, I’ve achieved all I dreamed I would and more, yet…it’s like …I dunno, something is missing. When I think about you, that is. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not trying to start something…”

“We would have never made it,” I hastened to add. “We fought too much.”
“Ah, but it was the making up after the fighting that was great! Special. Wasn’t it? Or don’t you remember?”

I chuckle. “I do, I do.”

His words set my feet tapping against the wooden floors of my study. The making up was always so awesome. Beautiful.

 “Don’t you fight with your wife?”

“No, not really.”

“Really? You don’t fight?”

“Yeah, she’s not like that. She doesn’t fight or argue and like, well, I dunno, she’s …reasonable. Logical.” There was a slight disdain to his voice.

“Mm. Sounds dull to me,” I said, my bitchiness getting the better of me. That comment will most definitely make him mad, I thought. Make him regret contacting me.

“Yeah, true,” he said to my surprise. “I liked it in the beginning, but it’s strange that the very thing I liked about her, is the very thing I …” He appeared to be choosing his words, “…I wish I could change.”

Wow, I hadn’t spoken to him in more than a decade and he’s talking so freely to me, I thought.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that to you. I feel disloyal to her when I do. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Yes she does! We probably would be together today had she not moved so swiftly.

We both fell silent for a moment.

 “Your turn,” he said. “Spill. Do you think of me? Like over the years?”

I was hoping he’d forget to ask me.

“Well, yeah, I think about you too,” I confessed. “Five years is a lifetime. Especially during that period in your life. Like, I was seventeen when I met you and then we grew up together. It’s hard not to think about that time, you, our friends …”

“Yeah, I don’t understand why we can’t be friends and keep in touch with each other. I mean, I’m not trying to hurt anybody. And I know you – you wouldn’t want to hurt anyone, either.”

“True. So, you burnt all my photos, huh?”

He laughed.  “Yep. She found my hidden stash and demanded I burn it all. What a bonfire!”

“What about you?” he asked.

“Same. My ex found my diary once while I was out shopping and read the whole thing. Our fights, my fears, our sweet times…read every goddamn thing. So we too had a massive bonfire.”

“Too bad.”

“But hey, I salvaged something.”

“You did? What?”

“A tiny teddy bear you once gave me.”

“Seriously? You kept my teddy bear? Really?”

“Yep. It says, ‘I purr when I’m cuddled.’ Has a little red top. Very pretty and very precious.”

“Hey, you know what, I remember that teddy! We had a fight and…”

“…over my curfew on campus …” I smiled as I thought about it.

“…and you left me on the highway and drove off in my car! How could you do that to me? It was 2 AM.”

I laughed. “You’re the one who pulled over and told me to drive myself home. I begged you to get into the car, but you told me to fuck off, so I did. I was working the next morning, remember? Had to be up at 6.”

“God, you were such a bitch. I hitched a ride with a biker. Fat, old guy. He stank like shit and I had to put my thighs around his. Eeewww! Gives me the shivers to think about it.”

I laughed.   

“Hey, I stole money from my mom’s purse to buy you that.”

“Ha ha ha. I didn’t know you stole money from your mom. But I remember that day, you bringing it to me. That was an awesome day.”

We spent the next hour trading memories, until it was time for him to go.

“I’ll call you again,” he said.

Tomorrow? Please say you’ll call me tomorrow?

“In two days.”  

Damn! Why not tomorrow?

“Sure,” I said, doing my best to sound casual.

“Um…take care now and be good,” he said. “On second thoughts, don’t. Be just the way you are. Exactly the way you are.”

My grin was big enough to stick in a coat hanger.

After I hung up, I scrolled down my iPhone, found Kid Rock’s All Summer Long and hit play.

Every time I had heard that son, I thought about him. Only him. If only he knew.

Yep, we were trying different things, for sure.

We were smoking funny things, oh yeah!

“Mum?”

I whirled around to my little girl.

“Who you smiling at?”

“Um…well…eh…nobody,” I said and quickly left the room, my hand pasted over my mouth. 

Alone in my room, I lay on my bed and post mortem every single thing he said. Every confession, every silence, every chuckle and I hug my pillow.

Two days…how will I survive the waiting?

To be continued…

Image

http://www.amazon.com/CAPTURED-Sworn-Enemy-Secret-ebook/dp/B0088IBIZC

Advertisements

About Eve Rabi Author

EVE RABI is the author of 28 romantic crime & suspense thrillers, 5 screenplays and a number of short stories in the process of being published. She is known for her kick-ass leading ladies, her sense of humor and her no-holes barred love stories. To quote an Amazon reviewer: “Eve Rabi is a 5 star general. Different, excellent, unputdownable. Eve Rabi is the lady for now and the Future.” For more info on Eve Rabi's books, visit http://amzn.to/178qMZY

Posted on September 23, 2013, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 9 Comments.

  1. Love this story – makes a person think about their past and wonder about “what if’s”.

  2. This is good stuff I can’t wait for the next part!!!!!

  3. Just beautiful – can’t wait for part 3

  4. Loving it… bittersweet… 🙂

  5. This is entertaining… waiting for the next installment!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: