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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Life Changing Decisions/Events
- Published: 12/28/2021
Three Times.
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United Stateshe First time.
His ring lay on the table. The purple and pink yarn (her favorite colors) still tightly wound around it. Without the yarn it would not have fit. For three years that yarn had held up their love, their future, and their promises. Her chocolate milkshake sat on the other side of the booth. It still had some left over lipstick on the straw. He looked at that straw for a long time. His lips had felt the coolness of her favorite color. He almost, not quite…reached over to keep that straw as a memory. The ring would be enough. He put it in his pocket. He never noticed the tears on his face. The snow would hide them soon enough. He walked home. Forgetting he had driven up to meet her. The words in her text burned into his brain:
“Honey, we need to talk.”
The Second time.
She looked up from the couch. She had forgotten he had a key. They had been engaged for four years - she had been in love for almost that entire time. She was still naked and warm, the man she now loved had flung a coat over her as he leaped to his feet. He was ready to fight. He didn’t have to. There, standing in the doorway... was his Best Friend. He knew it had been wrong, but it felt so right. She told him she felt the same way, not to worry... she would tell him soon. What she thought she would say was lost to the moment.
Her Fiancé merely went blank. Devoid of any emotion or feeling. He simply walked over to her, pulled her left hand out and removed the ring from her finger. He did it with the softest touch she had ever felt. He never looked at his Best friend at all. He closed the door slowly, softly, and with a gentle click of the lock -was gone. He went home and put the ring in box. A box that held an old High School Class ring with faded yarn around it. He put the box back on the shelf and sat in the dark for a long time.
The Third time.
He held her hand. He always did. The Nurses no longer tried to dislodge his grip and tell him to go home. He slept in the uncomfortable chair by the window when he need some rest. The rest of the time he sat by her bed and held her hand. Her wedding ring would dig into his palm, just as it had for the last forty two years. He smiled at the memory. She told him she wore the rings facing inwards because nobody else needed to know how deep their love was and the maybe the little prick of the diamond would remind him that he was hers. It made them both laugh.
The Doctors said it would be all over in the next day or so. They didn’t know his girl. He knew it would be a while. It was. Eighteen days later he was holding her hand when she took her last breath. He felt her grip tighten for just a bit. He knew it was goodbye. The Nurses let him sit for an hour. Then they watched as he pulled the wedding ring off her finger. Bent over and kissed her softly on the lips. He whispered to her: “Safe journey my love.”
At home he pulled the box out off of the shelf. He kissed her wedding ring one last time. Then he put it in the small box with the velvet lining. It clinked against an old High School ring with tattered colored yarn clinging with age. It bounced off of an engagement ring that went out of style decades ago. The three rings he pushed with his finger to make sure they weren’t touching. One in each corner.
The Final Time.
He took his ring off his finger. Fifty six years he wore that ring. His liver had stopped working. His great granddaughter told him he looked like a pumpkin. He smiled at her and told her she was right. His eldest daughter had brought him the little box he asked for. She was surprised when she found it on the back shelf of his closet. A little lacquered box, with a floral pattern carved in the wooden lid. It had a small lock on it. But she didn’t open it. He had the key around his neck.
Her Dad merely thanked her. He made no mention of why he wanted the box, or what was in it. She never asked. They had other things to talk about…and over. Then Medicine and time both ran out. The Doctors guessed much better than they did with his wife. They got the time of his death almost to the hour. But in that hour he had taken his ring off with trembling fingers. It slid right off since his body was so much lighter now. He had to fumble with the key for a bit.
He put his ring in with the other three inside the small box. Looked at them all for a long time. Then he closed the box. Closed his eyes. And with that…he was gone.
The box was buried with him. No one had opened it. His other daughter had shaken it before they sealed it in the coffin. It sounded like rings or jewelry bouncing off of each other.
Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.
Three Times.(Kevin Hughes)
he First time.
His ring lay on the table. The purple and pink yarn (her favorite colors) still tightly wound around it. Without the yarn it would not have fit. For three years that yarn had held up their love, their future, and their promises. Her chocolate milkshake sat on the other side of the booth. It still had some left over lipstick on the straw. He looked at that straw for a long time. His lips had felt the coolness of her favorite color. He almost, not quite…reached over to keep that straw as a memory. The ring would be enough. He put it in his pocket. He never noticed the tears on his face. The snow would hide them soon enough. He walked home. Forgetting he had driven up to meet her. The words in her text burned into his brain:
“Honey, we need to talk.”
The Second time.
She looked up from the couch. She had forgotten he had a key. They had been engaged for four years - she had been in love for almost that entire time. She was still naked and warm, the man she now loved had flung a coat over her as he leaped to his feet. He was ready to fight. He didn’t have to. There, standing in the doorway... was his Best Friend. He knew it had been wrong, but it felt so right. She told him she felt the same way, not to worry... she would tell him soon. What she thought she would say was lost to the moment.
Her Fiancé merely went blank. Devoid of any emotion or feeling. He simply walked over to her, pulled her left hand out and removed the ring from her finger. He did it with the softest touch she had ever felt. He never looked at his Best friend at all. He closed the door slowly, softly, and with a gentle click of the lock -was gone. He went home and put the ring in box. A box that held an old High School Class ring with faded yarn around it. He put the box back on the shelf and sat in the dark for a long time.
The Third time.
He held her hand. He always did. The Nurses no longer tried to dislodge his grip and tell him to go home. He slept in the uncomfortable chair by the window when he need some rest. The rest of the time he sat by her bed and held her hand. Her wedding ring would dig into his palm, just as it had for the last forty two years. He smiled at the memory. She told him she wore the rings facing inwards because nobody else needed to know how deep their love was and the maybe the little prick of the diamond would remind him that he was hers. It made them both laugh.
The Doctors said it would be all over in the next day or so. They didn’t know his girl. He knew it would be a while. It was. Eighteen days later he was holding her hand when she took her last breath. He felt her grip tighten for just a bit. He knew it was goodbye. The Nurses let him sit for an hour. Then they watched as he pulled the wedding ring off her finger. Bent over and kissed her softly on the lips. He whispered to her: “Safe journey my love.”
At home he pulled the box out off of the shelf. He kissed her wedding ring one last time. Then he put it in the small box with the velvet lining. It clinked against an old High School ring with tattered colored yarn clinging with age. It bounced off of an engagement ring that went out of style decades ago. The three rings he pushed with his finger to make sure they weren’t touching. One in each corner.
The Final Time.
He took his ring off his finger. Fifty six years he wore that ring. His liver had stopped working. His great granddaughter told him he looked like a pumpkin. He smiled at her and told her she was right. His eldest daughter had brought him the little box he asked for. She was surprised when she found it on the back shelf of his closet. A little lacquered box, with a floral pattern carved in the wooden lid. It had a small lock on it. But she didn’t open it. He had the key around his neck.
Her Dad merely thanked her. He made no mention of why he wanted the box, or what was in it. She never asked. They had other things to talk about…and over. Then Medicine and time both ran out. The Doctors guessed much better than they did with his wife. They got the time of his death almost to the hour. But in that hour he had taken his ring off with trembling fingers. It slid right off since his body was so much lighter now. He had to fumble with the key for a bit.
He put his ring in with the other three inside the small box. Looked at them all for a long time. Then he closed the box. Closed his eyes. And with that…he was gone.
The box was buried with him. No one had opened it. His other daughter had shaken it before they sealed it in the coffin. It sounded like rings or jewelry bouncing off of each other.
Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.
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Lillian Kazmierczak
01/03/2022Kevin, I am writing this as tears run down my cheeks. That was so poignant so sad and speaks to how life works. Life is sometimes painful. That story and other stories you have written like this and much different are the reason you are the writer of the month. You are an amazing talent, my friend. In case you don't recognize it, know that I recognize it!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
01/04/2022Wow Lillian those are some very generous words. I don’t know that I am an amazing talent. I do know I am prolific. Lol I would have to have a live-in editor in order to write professionally. Since I don’t edit. I just sit down and write a story that comes to me get up and that’s it. So I could do a lot more to be a much better writer. But then again I tell a good story. Lol so thank you for the kind words. And you have a great day and a happy new year
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Shelly Garrod
12/29/2021Beautiful story. I sit here teary eyed as I read the story. I could easily feel their love for on another. Nicely done Kevin.
COMMENTS (2)