The Ring

THE RING

by
D. Lee Jennings

I
The Ring is Found
Possibilities

The early morning seemed gray; the lingering of the night clouds had left dismal coverings. It was warm and humid; I didn’t need a jacket. Breezes hinted at the neighbor’s lilacs. The honeysuckle’s fragrances filled the air announcing spring. The other fragrances I could not identify, but were familiar to me, reminding me of the small pond where I sometimes went to contemplate the meaning of my life. I wondered at the time whether or not my life actually had any lasting meaning.
However, I found that my life did have meaning. I had hope. I had desire. I had an overwhelming need to be me; although at this time I was just cresting the tip of the whole of which I would later become. Some of the other kids may not have liked that; I was so bold, so flip. I don’t recall that I really cared. So I just let it go. Why should I spend any time worrying about what the other kids thought? I was too busy being a kid myself.
That thought burned its way into my brain as the sun began burning its way through the sunrise haze. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I started my daily trek to school. The wet grass soaked my sneakers as I walked that morning. I had been feeling a bit down and out, emotional that my luck would never change. Even more convinced now since my friend Mike had won our chess match a few nights before. As usual he had already begun gloating, seemingly having no consideration for my feelings at all.
But something different happened that morning. Something more than just hopping the mud puddles that lay in the imperfections of the sidewalk. I saw something… it was in the dirt by the curb, not far from the storm drain, as if the recent rains had brought it to the surface from some ancient realm. My curiosity had more than taken its toll on me as I veered my steps in the direction of the gutter. There in the residue of the previous night’s rain I saw it. Something shining… something gleaming that glittered as a small star in the night sky. It was a brilliant white gold ring emblazoned with the word ‘love’ and a luscious pearl in the ‘o’ which shone in the morning sun. Not a dime store ring, this was the real deal. It must be worth a bundle.
As I picked it up and shoved it in my pocket, that brilliant white gold ring with the adorable pearl had totally consumed my thoughts. It was real gold, not one of those electroplated pieces that anyone can get from a carnival as a prize. I knew the ring was real gold because I could see ‘14k’ stamped on the inside of the band. I realized at that time that the pearl must have been real too. It must have belonged to someone of affluence, who had had a lot of feeling for it. I shook off the shock of this a find like a mongrel would shake off water from a puddle and continued my walk to the school grounds, one-quarter block away.

II
The Ring Works its Stuff
The mystery

When I got to school, instead of thinking about or concentrating on my classes like I should have, I thought about the new addition that I had gained for my collection of stuff in a Mason jar. I had been picking up junk, trinkets, religious medallions, pins, buttons, beads, marbles, and heck; I can’t even say what else for what seemed like years to fill that green quart jar with the zinc lid.
The importance of the ring eluded me at the time. Sure, it was a nice trinket, another piece of clutter for the collection in my old Mason jar, but there was something else that I could not identify. It was a certain type of mystery that could only be explained through experience, through ownership of the ring.
I must have dozed or been consumed by my thoughts because what happened next shook me to my shoes.
“David!”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied as attentively as I could, snapping to attention in my seat despite having been paying no attention whatsoever to what my teacher had been saying.
“Could you tell the class the importance of the role that the Pony Express played in the history of our town?”
I fidgeted as I cleared my throat, lightly drumming my fingers on the desktop and looking around the room for help. It seemed all eyes were upon me, but from the class, no help was forthcoming. Suddenly… a thought came to me. I looked Mrs. Smith right in the eyes and said, “Well, Mrs. Smith, it seems to me from the home reading you gave us yesterday that San Francisco would have got their mail a lot later if it weren’t for the Pony Express.”
A thin smile pursed across her lips.
“That is a good point David, but it is not the point that I was trying to make.”
Again she grinned.
How had I been able to get away with that answer with just a slight smile? There was something strange going on here. I piped in just before she could state her point.
“Mrs. Smith, is it your point that without the Pony Express our town may have been forgotten to the pages of history and that Kansas City would have taken over as the major way station for the trade route west?”
Then her smile widened. Her eyes scanned the classroom.
“Would anyone like to reply to David’s statement?”
The classroom was quiet as the lunch bell rang and we were dismissed, what a relief.
I was astounded at the new things that had begun to transpire in my young life at the finding of this great gem in only a few short months. Was this ring magic? I had passed my social studies test and had not even opened my book the whole semester. Then I had received an ‘A’ in my spelling! I had never gotten more than a seventy-five percent in spelling exercises since the first grade! I was never an honor roll student!
The Turmoil
There were other things going on in my life at this time too. It seemed that every Sunday at church I had to listen to a sermon on virtue, or honesty, or the thief at Christ’s side on the cross. My heart was a mass of unanswered questions about life, honesty, truthfulness and my everlasting soul.
I carried the ring with me everywhere I went. It gave me a sense of power for some reason. Maybe it wasn’t the ring itself but just the fact that it was real gold! (It was real gold; not that fools stuff you read about in library books at school, real gold!)
It was the last session of that final quarter when the recess bell rang and we were all released to the playground like screaming banshees. I had been hoarding this thing like a secret lamp, almost afraid that some magical presence would burst out of it and grant my every selfish wish. My anxiety reached the point where I could no longer keep the secret to myself.
I showed the ring to my best friend Mike, and he was astounded. When I pulled the annulus from my pocket, his mouth fell open, his jaw dropped and his eyes became huge; like half-dollars. It should be needless to say that soon the whole playground was abuzz with the news of my find. He told her, she told him, and the story was passed around the school like some sick prank.
After recess it seemed every single student wanted to claim ownership of the little bauble and were approaching me for that very purpose. It didn’t matter that I had a ring or if I had even found one, not a single soul was able to describe to me where or when I might have found one.
Then, at about the time the classes were about to end for the day, Janet, one of my classmates came up to me.
“David I’ve heard that you found a ring on your way to school a while back.”
“Well I might have. You know how stories get started and grow into things beyond our control.” I replied.
She said “David this is very important to me. Did you or didn’t you find a ring?”
“Sure I found a ring. Why? Did you lose one?” I closely regarded her eyes and actions. “If you can make me believe that you lost it, and it’s the one in my pocket, then I’ll give it to you.” I said with a smile.
I didn’t really care if she could or not because I thought that she was cute anyway and the damn thing didn’t cost me anything. Besides, if I had lost something like that, I’d want it returned.
She then proceeded to tell me that, indeed, she had lost a ring, at about the same time that I had found my prize. She had been walking to school between the corner grocery two blocks away and the school grounds, when she had realized the ring was missing from her finger. Continuing her monologue she described in intricate detail every aspect of the ring itself and also gave a short history of how she had come to possess the ring herself.
Her mother, from a local jeweler, had purchased the ring soon after she had been born. It was a regular ring that anyone could buy, but it had been especially modified to hold the pearl within the mount in the ‘o’, at a hefty price. Since then the ring had been concealed; secreted away in a jewelry box until Janet’s twelfth birthday when it had been given to her as an heirloom to keep for her own daughter in some distant future.
I felt my heart sink to the depths of oblivion. This was her ring and I must return it or forever endure the guilt of a lie so bold. Reaching into my pocket I fingered the jewel whilst a jumble of thoughts raced through my mind. Should I give up my gem? Should I reveal this secret that I had so long tried to conceal? Should I just walk away and pretend that our conversation had never happened and drop this wretched thing into my Mason jar?

III
The Ring is Returned
Whoa!!!

I pulled the ring slowly from my pocket gripping it tightly in my palm. Her eyes followed my right hand as I slowly turned it upward toward her and unlocked my fingers to reveal what must have seemed a miracle to her, for tears welled up in her eyes and she began to cry. It was at that precise moment that I realized I was no longer the owner of the ring.
With my left hand I reached softly forward and grasped her right, tear soaked as it was, and pulling it toward me, with my right I placed it into her palm. A slight shudder ran through her shoulders as her eyes ventured slowly from the ring upward to my eyes.
“Thank you so very, very much… I, I don’t think you will ever know how much this means to me. If my mother were ever to find out that I had lost it… I don’t know what she’d do!” (I must admit that I blushed a bit when I heard that! My god without even knowing it I had rescued a damsel in distress. Will this not make a fine tale for me to tell some day?)

IV
Conclusion
The Enlightenment

Classes ended that year and the following years thundered on as they always do, but I do not think that she or I will ever forget the experience of the ring… or what it meant to either of us. We may not live happily ever after but I will carry the story of the ring to the end of my days, as I believe she will do also; an heirloom to pass on for generations to come.