September is here! I grew up in a viciously seasonal land (Minnesota), and September marked the end of summer, the entrance of fall colors on the trees, and temps that invited you back into your comfy, cardigan sweaters. Not to mention the grand feat of preparing everyone to go back to school. What a different year this will be. Enjoy my summer fiction finale with a few twists—(hint): editorial commentary included free of charge.
Chapter 3
Greg lowered himself into a black leather chair featuring a shiny chrome, circular frame. He put his elbows on his knees to support his head in his hands and began to sob. Garry settled into the chair behind his desk like an angler content to wait out the prey. To pass the time, he grabbed his loupe and studied the diamond ring Greg had left on the counter.
After what seemed like 15 minutes, but had only been about three, Garry shoved a tissue box toward Greg. When he was ready, he grabbed a tissue and blew his nose.
“Man—I didn’t see that coming. I didn’t see it.”
“Is this about Diana?” Garry took an educated guess.
Greg nodded.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
Greg rubbed the corners of his eyes and looked straight at Garry. “I just thought this was it. I thought we were a real thing. I was going to have you resize that goddamn ring so I could propose to her.”
“And?”
“And…I saw her with someone.” He looked down at the dirty carpet and willed-away another wave of tears.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He laughed in disgust. “She kissed him. Right out there in front of Sparky’s. Might as well have been in front of the whole goddamn world.”
“Geez, Greg—I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t know.” He shook his head slowly and rubbed his chin. “Maybe I should have seen this coming. She’s been a little distant over the last month, but I thought it was my work schedule and maybe…” He prefaced this epiphany with a laugh. “Maybe I’ve been moody. You know. Like, depressed.”
Garry held the ring up and twisted it back and forth. “Do you mind if I ask where you got this?”
“Yeah, I found that on one of my jobs. It had been buried in the P-trap for years. It’s a little unusual, but—” He was going to say that Diana liked unconventional things, but the pain hit his chest and he couldn’t get the words out.
“This setting is…”
Greg snapped back from his spiral. “1980’s, right?”
“No. It’s much older.”
“Really? How can you tell?”
“This is an old-European cut diamond. More popular in the 30’s and 40’s. And this one is exceptionally clear. I’d like to do some research on it. Mind if I keep it for a while?”
“Not a problem. What a stupid fuck I was to think this was going to be my answer. My ring for Diana.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. As a matter of fact, you should take some time off. I’ve put together a group to go fishing on Saturday. We’ll be gone for five days, headed south past Ensenada. We’ll dock a couple evenings and grab a hotel room. A couple nights we’ll stay on the boat. I think it would be good for you. And I could use your help.” (Research: is there such as thing as a five day fishing run in August?)
Greg nodded. “I’ll call you, man.” And he stood up to leave.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah—I’ll get through this. I’m headed to the shop. Gonna clean my boat. I didn’t get around to it on my last run.”
Garry rounded the desk and placed a hand on Greg’s shoulder. “You call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, man.”
Later than night Greg texted Diana: How was your day?
Great. How was yours?
Not great
Oh (sad face emoji) why?
You know why
(Pause)
What do you mean?
I saw you outside Sparky’s today
(Long pause)
I don’t know what to say. I was going to tell you Greg
I thought we had something
WE did! But I also need someone with a stable life.
Is that what your clients have? A stable life
It’s not like that…but money has always been a concern
Bye Diana
(No response)
A marine layer held the bay area in a fitting gloom for the rest of the day and evening. Greg slept in a fetal position on the middle of the rug on his living room floor. Charlie, his brown lab, kept a watchful eye on his master in between slumbers. After midnight, Greg sat up and crawled on all fours intending to stand after he had his bearings and grab a glass of water in the kitchen. Charlie was on his feet and after a quick stretch, he circled around toward Greg to lick his cheek.
Instinctively, Greg laughed at the affection. “Charlie…stop it!”
Then the pain in his chest reminded him he wasn’t happy. He stood up and staggered into the kitchen for water, unable to shake the feeling that something was missing. Or he had missed something.
Ch 4
Doris knew she was one of the lucky ones. Her daddy had said not to marry the po’ boy from Tallahassee. He was beneath their station in life. After all, it was rare for a woman to continue on to college after high school in 1939, as she had done (research: did colleges offer 4 year nursing degrees in the late 30’s? Would a wealthy girl choose that over something else?). A year away from finishing her nursing degree, James had been drafted into the war. They trained him right there in the northern Florida skies, learning the maneuvers of a fighter pilot. Soar up, kill the engine, fall and fall and fall, flip the starter switch (research: is there a starter switch?) and pray to God the engines came back to life.
He’d flown many missions during the war and had even been shot down in Germany. He landed his injured …..(type of plane)… and was promptly taken into captivity, only to be freed several days later when Patton declared victory. (Research: type of plane my uncle flew, I have the recorded interviews my brother and sister-in-law made on DVD. Need to dig them out.)
As a trained pilot, it had been easy to gain employment with the burgeoning commercial airline industry. (Research: was it? Did WW2 vets get hired by commercial airlines, or was it too early for that?) Prosperity also came from her side of the family as her daddy warmed to the idea of the po’ boy from Tallahassee. His status as a war hero, commercial pilot (?) and quick-wit at the men’s club had won Daddy over.
And now they had a baby on the way. She looked down at the ring on her left hand and admired the sparkle. She twisted it with her right thumb and forefinger. Getting tight. Extra baby weight.
********
Greg met Garry early Saturday morning at the coffee shop at the marina. Garry brought the ring.
(Research I did do: The ring is a 1.18 carat, Old-European cut diamond with 58 facets set in a 14 carat yellow gold band that has a vintage feel, almost art-deco in the lines.) James bought it for Doris before he shipped out of London after the war. Doris didn’t lose the ring, but they did buy a beach house and hosted many family gatherings there. Doris willed the ring to her granddaughter who was only 18 years old when she inherited it. The family sold the beach house to a slumlord after the death of Doris. Cynthia was helping clean her beloved childhood beach retreat with so many memories of sitting on the front porch swing with granny. The day the ring slipped down the drain, unbeknownst to her, she was mortified when she realized it was missing off her finger, and kept it a secret from her own mother.)
Twenty years later, Greg meets Cynthia on Garry’s fishing excursion. She works for the CIA, but wants to quit. They have amazing sex. The end. Oops. First, he shows her the ring. “Where did you get that?” Her jaw drops. The End.
I’ve only made a serious attempt at writing fiction twice in my adult life. Both times the story centered around the topic of diamonds. Clearly, my soul is fascinated by the topic. Or, my subconscious is trying to work something out. Diamonds, according to a quick search, represent the energy of love, believing in your Self, and clearing a pathway of healing. Maybe someday, I’ll get that diamond story written.
Yours on the journey,
And God bless you as you venture into a fall full of unknowns.
Julie
Village Healer 