It's Got A Ring To It (3 page)

“Hi, I’m Myles Donovan,” the words sashay
ed
from his mouth rhythmically, like a
songbird. Could he be the same Myles Donovan? Betty and Wilma mentioned good l
oo
ks, but I figured their
taste in men would be directly related to their
mediocre
ratings
in the looks department.

As I contemplated whether he was indeed my Myles or an impostor, the
same question loomed over me. What should I say to him? I didn’t know. My usual
arrogance was completely undermined by the sheer sight of him. Unknowingly,
he’d taken me off guard, and off my mighty high horse.

Actually, Wilma and Betty were right.
H
e looked like he’d be nice. And, the poser
did
have rugged good looks. In
addition to, a chiseled jawbone, wavy
McDreamy
hair,
translucent eyes, and a body that didn’t have to beg for more
—
since it probably got
offers regularly. Not that I was paying much attention. Dazed, I couldn’t help
but notice how his strong hands
appeared
so protective, the way he gripped
the pen. I had no clue what he filled out.
Some kind of
paperwork or information card or something.
It didn’t really matter. I
was losing my nerve with every
sweep
of
his
pen.

Grinning from ear to ear, Betty was suddenly overly helpful. “Is your
best contact number still 5-5-5-2-3-7-9?”

He said something else, but it was all I needed to hear. It was as if
things slowed to a glacial pace. Right in front of me, she confirmed that he
’s
been giving out my number
all along. No longer hypnotized by th
e
walking identity thief or the rhinestones
of the tiara I clutched, I couldn’t contain myself any longer.

Downright ire r
an
through my veins
.
Every
fiber of my being urged me to go to him and unleash
all those
groggy
morning
s
on him. The
nerve built up as I
squared
my shoulders and directed the fury in my eyes at his turned back.
As I closed in on him
, I
became less lady
like
and more of a lethal weapon. Standing behind Mr. Pretender, my strategic plan
to nudge him and give him my best Tae Bo jab-hook-
uppercut,
didn’t seem worth the vision of me being dragged away in cuffs.

At some point, I must’ve infringed on his personal space
,
because he turned around
and locked me into his gaze. I might as well have been twelve again
and
in the middle of a
staring contest. I didn’t dare blink. The first one of us to blink would lose
,
and I’d already lost too
much at the hands of that man.

Time froze, but true to form, Lena didn’t. “Oh…”
T
he
ever familiar
singsong shriek neared. “
Laila
where are you? I’ve
found it.”

Whether I wanted her to or not, she was coming. I didn’t know
if I should
be angry with
her for making me blink first, or grateful to her for saving me from the
jumbled words, which surely would’ve followed. Quickly, I squinted my eyes,
giving him my most intimidating stare,
and
then turned toward Lena’s voice.

I knew
he
continued
to watch, but I couldn’t risk
glancing
back. “Oh my goodness, Lena. Where is it?” The Academy should’ve awarded me for
the show I put on. Lena ate it up
,
and gauging by the looks on Wilma
’s
and Betty’s
faces,
so did Mr. Donovan.

Putting it on thick, I even threw in a little extra bounce to my
step. Down the hall, I glanced over my shoulder to see if he’d noticed, but he
was gone. Panic mode set in
.
I might never have the chance again to confront him. Hastily, I scrambled for a
reason to get back to the front of the store. Ah! The tiara
.

“Lena, I have the perfect accessory for you.” She turned in awe. I’d
never made it a habit to make suggestions when it came to fashion, as I’d
usually get blame
d
later
had
she
decide
d
she didn’t need
or like it. Mostly, I’d just nod and agree for agreement’s sake. “I saw a tiara
in the showcase at the front of the store.”
Still no
reaction.
The time had come for the coup de gr
â
ce
. “Lena, every princess needs her crown for
her big day, don’t you think?”

I
didn’t
expect it, but as soon as I saw the tears rolling down her cheek, I knew she
believed me. “
Laila
, I knew you would start to come
around if I included you.” But my plan backfired. She trapped me in a bear hug
with a grip tighter and longer than I hoped.

“Okay. I’ll just go grab it for you,
LeLe
.”
Breaking free, I bee-lined to where I last s
aw
him. Her suspicions were surely on high
alert, but I milked it for all it
was
worth. Her watchful eyes locked on me,
so I checked all the other cases before the one where the tiara was displayed,
to give me extra time. But, Myles Donovan was gone.

Just as fluidly as he waltzed in, he vanished. There went my
redemption and closure
right
out
the door
—
along
with my opportunity to reclaim my phone number. Worst of all, he left but I
still had to be there. Stuck in a bridal boutique with my
nuptially
crazed little sister.

With no choice, but to suck it up and get it together, I decided to
finish the task at hand. Armed with new resolve, I headed for Betty and Wilma
to have one of them unlock the showcase. Wilma made herself useful elsewhere,
but I found Betty kneeling behind the counter
,
taking inventory of the accessories. While
I waited patiently for her to notice me, I pulled a small stack of business
cards from my purse and positioned them on the counter with the rest of the
wedding vendors.
I leaned
on
the glass
and
peered at
bejeweled necklace and earring sets. Though I preferred pearls, even I could
appreciate and be wooed by diamonds. Yet, something more enticing than the
jewelry caught my eye.

Not within the glass, but on the glass.

A
n
information card filled out by none other than Mr. Myles Donovan. Between his
name and my phone number…was his address.

FOUR

All the words seemed to jumble
together in a massive blur. The same message over and over. A congratulatory
barrage of alliterative rhyming sentiments decorated with hearts, rings, and
bells. Halfheartedly, I expected at least one of the greeting cards to skip the
music gram and throw rice. I would’ve chosen a blank card and written some
sentimental gibberish to appease my mother, but I hadn’t a clue what to say. I’
ve
always been one to give a
meaningful present in a gift bag with the tiny, yet simple, to
-
and
-
from tag, rather than to waste time on
cardstock scribed with someone else’s words. But, Mom insisted that certain
occasions demanded traditional etiquette. It was obviously a dig at Claire
,
yet another battle in
their never-ending bid to outdo each other.

So, there
I was standing in the center aisle of Hallmark, drudging through mounds of
engagement cards, which all looked alike and said the same thing, in order to
find one “tasteful” enough to come from the maid of honor. At last, I settled
on a simple silver one. On the front, beneath a tiny chain dangl
ing
with two teensy linked
gold wedding bands, was only the word “love.” As I pulled the matching silver
envelope from behind the stack, I couldn’t help thinking about how I wished
love
was
enough to keep two people together.

Shaking the thought from my head, I squeezed by a few people
—
who were equally as
deep in thought as I was
—
trying
to narrow down their selection
s
.
Amazingly, I made my way to the clearance area in the back with only Lena’s
card. Most of the time I need
ed
blinders and an extra pair of arms to keep from buying everything in the store.
Two other people were back there digging in the sale bins and marking their
territory. A monogram keychain, two inspiration
al
books, a teacup ornament
,
and an advent calendar
later, I was finally headed for the register, when I heard a familiar voice
call my name. The thought of pretending I didn’t hear her and walking away
crossed my mind, but I couldn’t be rude to her. She didn’t deserve that. I
turned to her
, with forced a
smile
,
just
as
I’d done so many times before. “Hi, Nana
Bea!”

She hugged me with her whole body. As my arms folded around her frail
body, the rising lump in my throat wouldn’t let me let go. For
longer
than I could track,
we stood there holding each other, saying more in our silence than any words
could convey. Only two years passed since we last s
aw
each other, but I
never
realized I wasn’t the only one who’d
lost someone.

After Ethan’s mother passed away, Nana Bea took care of him
as if
he w
ere
her own. I loved her
wholeheartedly. She was one of the reasons that it was so hard to end the
relationship with Ethan. While I loved him, I was in love with her. She was
sweet as pie and made some of the best across any county. Every weekend, she
baked apple pies, peach cobbler, blueberry, and my favorite,
K
ey lime pie. Her hugs felt
like Christmas. Sometimes, she’d dig in her coin purse and offer a few bucks
for the hard times, as she called them, and wrap it up in my palm with a mint
or butterscotch hard candy. Feisty as could be, but ended every stern word with
a wink and a smile. She was what family should be. The glue. The pearls
reminded me that I missed her more than Ethan.

As we parted from our embrace, my eyes began to sting with regret. It
hurt me to see what time and age do to the body. Her face was stained with a
sickly pallor. The sun had crept into the creases of her face and hands. And
although she moved at a sleepy pace, it was her soul that seemed tired. A woman
who once embodied strength and independence, feebly gripped a cane that held up
a waning corpse.

“Now, don’t you start that,” she said, referring to the tears forming
in my eyes. “If you start, then I’ll be right behind you.”

“How are you?” It was a simple question, but my words were loaded
with concern for
her
deteriorating
physical
well-being
.

“Holding it together.”
With
her stifled words, she made her best
effort to stand taller. I knew she didn’t want me to worry about her, but it
was the way it had always been. I worried about her, like I would my own
mother.

For her sake, I gave my best impression of someone at ease. “Phew!
Well, that’s a relief. I’m glad to hear it.” And then, as the silence ensued, I
realized the elephant had made its way into the room. All the awkward
pleasantries
were
made,
but the turns our conversation might’ve made two years prior, were all dead
ends at that point. We had been too close at one time to revert to idle talk
about the weather or some arbitrary sports team. We reached a roundabout. All
discussions of work, family and friends, or any relationships would lead back
to him. It wasn’t high school, when you could get away with empty promises to
keep in touch or call to get together soon. And we weren’t so imprudent that we
could get away with avoidance.

Our eyes dared the other to blink first. Then, Nana Bea broached the
subject at hand.
A
s the
words so effortlessly rolled off her tongue, I knew I couldn’t have planned for
this moment if I’d been given years notice in advance.

“I’m here looking for an engagement card for Ethan
.
”
S
he laid it all out there on the table. I
could’ve left it at that
—
with
all the shock smeared across my face
—
but she must’ve felt the need to
explain
.

“I’ve been in hospice for a while, so I missed the party. Better late
than never.” A cursory smile forced itself into view
—
a side effect of the nerves. Still the
words were
without emotion.
She
said it
as if
we
were
talking about picking
up dry cleaning or checking off items on a grocery list. Not at all, like
telling someone that the man
she
w
as
engaged to marry
had found someone else.

The rapid rising and falling of my chest
should
have given me away
.
I needed to sit. Anywhere. My eyes searched
for something
…
anything
to hold me up, but there wasn’t a chair, a stool, or a ledge in sight. I could
only lean on the shelf at the end of the aisle and try to take it all in. I was
engaged to a man I thought was my answered prayer. For heaven’s sake, he cooked
and
cleaned. If a man could be
ordered from a catalogue
—that
would be
Ethan. He was handsome, in a quirky
seventies
combed-over-hair,
Ken
-
doll
-kind-of-way
. Not to mention, intelligent,
funny, stylish, and athletic. Best of all, he told me he loved me with every
turn of the clock. We were both starting our own businesses and finally feeling
good about the direction we were heading
in
. So
,
when he asked me to get married six years
into the relationship, needless to say, I was ready. Although, ch
o
mping at the bit was a more
accurate assessment of the matter.

Elation could not sum up how I felt. I was planning for forever with
the man I loved, so every flower was
our
flower. Every dress was
the
gown
I would wear for our family and friends to witness the hallmark of our great
love. And the ring was my showpiece to flaunt in front of any man who even
toyed with the idea of flirting. I was betrothed to my prince. Taken.
Happily, off the market.

So when things took a downward turn, I assumed it was going to be
some passing phase
,
and
eventually Ethan would come back to me. After some serious groveling
and
begging,
on his part,
I’d take him
back
,
and we’d love
each other even stronger knowing what it was like to be without one another. He
was supposed to be my butterfly and come back to me because he was mine.

For what seemed like forever, I was pissed at Ethan. And I took it
out on everyone foolish enough to come near
me
. On more than one occasion, I chewed of
f
Mom’s head for butting in
my business. Lena and Dad all but disowned me after I lashed out on them. After
a few dates I went on out of spite, hoping to run into Ethan, the word got out
that I was some kind of she-devil. My reputation preceded me and left me
lonelier. He’d taken away every ounce of hope in my bones
,
and left without showing even an inkling of
remorse. I can’t remember how many times I deleted his number and added it
back. Crumbled and ripped pictures of him to bits,
and
then pitifully pieced them back together.
I had every intention of stabbing his tires or making some crazy voodoo doll
. He needed to
feel my pain.
I was angry. It got so bad, I
cyberstalked
his every
move
. I was
laying low
until an opportunity presented itself to unleash the wrath of my fury.

When we failed to run into each other, I resorted to bargaining with
God. “If you bring him back to me, I’ll go to church every Sunday and all major
holidays,” I promised. “Give me one more chance, and I won’t ask for anything
else ever again.” Nothing worked. As each of my unanswered prayers passed, I
questioned my worthiness for Ethan, then love, and eventually happiness
altogether. I knew I was falling deeper and deeper.
People
didn’t want to be around me because I was depressed, then
being alone
,
I became even more
depressed
. Dr. Reese said all the things she was supposed to say, but
the wall I built was too high and too strong.

I thought about Ethan’s letter at home in my hope chest
—
my past tainting my
future. Seeing the pity in Nana Bea’s eyes, I was angry
at
myself for being so stupid to believe that he was ever coming back. Even
worse
than her chastising
stare, I struggled to think about what was next for me. If I couldn’t go back
to him, what the hell was I waiting for? What was I going to do with the rest
of my life
?
K
eep mourning a relationship
he never even grieved.

The feeling in my legs came back. I
placed
my face into
my
hands and pushed them back through my hair
with a sigh. There were bigger things on my mind. What the heck was I supposed
to say to her? Congratulations, was the furthest thing from my mind. I had no
response for Nana Bea. She looked frail and weak, but she’d sucker
punched me—in
Hallmark, no less. She might not have been able to get away with avoidance, but
at that point, I could. With one more hug, I smiled
,
and
then
walked away
from her
.

I couldn’t take the chance
of
love songs playing on the radio, so I
drove in silence,
windows
down, and
listening only to the sound of the wind and my coping
heartbeat.

My hair got caught in the breeze
,
block
ing
my view of the road
,
as I narrowly missed the rear
end of another car.
A o
ne-handed grip on my hair
and the other hand gripped with white knuckles around the steering wheel. I
just hated the fact that so much of my life was wasted on Ethan. In my gut, I
didn’t want to spend another second of my life on him. The time seemed just as
good as any to let out my last cry. I yelled into the wind as the tears trailed
my cheekbone to my chin before spilling over.

The ringtone of my cell echoed through the speakers of the car and
the dashboard stereo
displayed
Lena’s name. Quickly, I pressed the echoing
Bluetooth
button on the steering wheel to
answer the call.

“Where the heck are you?” she questioned, raising her volume over the
din of my car. “Roll your window up.”

“Just leaving the store. Had to pick up a few things.” The crack in
my voice gave me away. I could lie to most people, but lying to Lena was always
pressing my luck. There was a hesitation on the line
,
and I knew she was listening for any
indication that her worries were warranted.

“What’s wrong,
Laila
…
and don’t lie.”

I was thinking about it, but I just didn’t have the energy or the patience
to think up a believable story. “I ran into Nana Bea.”

“And?” she said abruptly with a slight edge in her tone.

“And
…
it was
really hard seeing her.”

“And?”

I knew she would continue to press me on the issue if I didn’t give
her the full rundown. Lena had no patience for Nana Bea. Lena thought she was
nice, but she was adamant that Nana Bea’s loyalty would
remain
with Ethan. Every time I argued in
Nana Bea’s favor, Lena would bring up the time she lied for him when he got
caught coming into the house at
four
o’clock in the morning. She’d vouched
for him even when I followed him and knew his exact whereabouts. On the matter
of Nana Bea, there was no s
ense
arguing
,
because Lena
was usually right—that time was no exception.