Not-Quite Forever Girl

The girl stepped off of the bus in front of Cranberry Commons and toward the concrete island with a resolute stride but when she passed the yellow caution line and gazed down out over the lanes, reluctance halted her steps. Her face held an expression of reminiscent sorrow as she slipped from one long finger a ring and held it up to the muted March sunlight. The fake gems sparkled and she smiled, remembering the day she had "received" it, not even a year ago. That shining smile faded and, after one last reluctant pause, she tossed the ring into traffic. It bounced once before falling through one of the cracks in the asphalt. Maybe some girl would find it, give it to her best friend and the story would begin again.

Just as she turned to walk away, a voice called her back to the present.

"Was that a ring?" She nodded the affirmative. "Why did you throw it? Was it expensive?" He peered out over the pavement in an effort to maybe catch some glimpse of the discarded trinket, and she smiled.

"I had no reason to keep it." She shrugged and again turned to leave. The man shook his head, brushed longish hair back from his forehead and frowned at her.

"But why did you throw into traffic? You could have sold it or something."

A thoughtful silence grew between them and, after a moment her eyes turned to find the spot where the once-treasured memento had disappeared.

"It was symbolic. This place is where we had our last, truly good day as friends. It's where our relationship died, so it seemed fitting to be the ring's resting place. It would have been better to walk down and drop it by the Food Court, but to tell the truth, I'm too lazy for that." She chuckled self-deprecatingly and shrugged again. "Besides, that ring was only worth two bucks, tax included. If I wanted to sell it, I couldn't have hoped to get more than fifty cents." The man shook his head, seemingly frustrated, and she studied him. He was wearing a grey business suit, but held no briefcase or bag, wore no jacket to ward off the early-March chill. His brown hair was long for a business man, if he indeed was one, and he wore a pair of oval-framed glasses over dark grey eyes.

"But why? Why go through the trouble at all? You could have left it in a drawer, or just thrown it in the garbage."

The wind blew, throwing her hair in her face and she brushed it absently over her shoulders again. Her eyes picked out several landmarks on the horizon as she contemplated this question, sliding over a water tower, the line which hinted at the quarry just outside Lawndale's city limits and the horizon before turning and settling on the mall. Her eyes took on a distant quality and, though she spoke clearly and with no hint of disorientation, she was not truly aware of the words which slipped from her lips.

"We met a long time ago, or at least, it feels like that now. We were friends for a long time and for a little while, we were lovers. Or that's what she called us, we never even kissed. Oh, I tried, believe me. But every time, she came up with some stupid excuse or turned away at the last second, and that was that. After only a month, something happened. It wasn't my fault, but that didn't stop her blaming me. She dumped me, and we didn't see each other for nearly two years."

A moment's silent reflection steeled her baring, brought some of the reminiscence out of her countenance and she continued.

"She just called one day and asked me to come out with her, and I agreed. It was... fun. I didn't expect it to be, but it really was. So on the strength of that outing, I invited her shopping with me later that week. It was summer by then, and we decided to walk to Dega Street. I thought of it as reconnecting, a chance to get to know each other again and begin to rebuild our friendship. While we were in this little store, just a couple blocks down from The Zon, I found these little rings in a display by the register. There were two in particular that caught my eye, and I happened to pick one up and mention that had we stayed together, it was the kind of thing I would have given her. She picked up the one beside it, said it was more the style she would have picked for me."

She smiled now, a sad curl of lips that dulled her eyes and brought a tragic air to the afternoon.

"Those rings, they were a lot alike. The same colors, but not quite, with the same stones in a different pattern. They matched, but not really. Kinda like us. I ended up buying those rings. She kept one, I the other, and it kinda became a symbol of our renewed friendship. Those rings, you know? It was like a promise, we'd do it right this time. We made a deal to wear them all the time, especially when we were together. I kept my end, I wore that ring until my finger turned green."

She laughed, and the man smiled a little. Her laughter caught after a few seconds however, and she sighed.

"It turned out, though, that she only wore her ring that day. When she got home, she took it off and that was that. That could have been the real symbol of our relationship; me always doing the utmost, keeping my promises and doing my best while she talked a good game, but never backed it up. We were friends again for that summer, but when the last sun of July set, she stopped calling. Eventually, I stopped waiting for her to. The ring went into my dresser drawer when I found out she'd abandoned hers and just like that, it was over."

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly and just like that, as she had put it, her story came to an end. She felt lighter somehow, she realized, and brushed a hand over her hair sheepishly when she realized she had just recounted one of the most personal chronicles of her life to a complete stranger. The feeling passed just as quickly as it was acknowledged when she realized that the reason she had told him was, simply, that she needed to tell the story. It didn't matter to who, it just needed to be told. Finally she turned to face him and looked him in the eye as she stated her conclusion.

"That's why I went to the trouble to come here. When you lose someone you love, a family member, a pet, or maybe the restaurant you went to with your highschool sweetheart, you lament it, don't you? You do something to honor the occasion. Like a funeral, a memorial, or even just a drink to tribute the memory. Well, that's what this was. I lost something that, for a long time, was the world to me. It died, and this was the funeral it deserved. I'll never have my closure, but I guess catharsis is just as good." With a cordial nod, she once more turned to go. A couple steps later, he again called out.

"If it's been so long, why hold on to the ring? You could have just tossed it that summer, when you realized it was over. Why didn't you?"

She half turned and, as she considered this the man took the opportunity to really look at her for the first time. He took in her hair, black, straight and long as it blew in the wind. She wore a pair of faded jeans, black Vans and a red jacket over a black tee shirt with the letters ILF HU just visible through the gap in the lapels. Her eyes, seemingly dark blue in this light, were sharp, evaluative and disconcertingly direct. They seemed to look right through him but, after such a candid recitation as she had just afforded an utter stranger, he felt it only fitting that he endure it.

As she considered the question the rather forthright stranger posed her, a memory came full into her mind. She remembered what that face had looked like, silhouetted by morning sunlight as her one time partner in crime looked down at her with eyes filled, if only once, with love and joy. I would have given it all to you, if you had asked me, you know, she thought as a wave of melancholy broke over her as it had so many times over the requisite months apart. You... you were my forever girl.

Jane Lane again turned the question over in her mind and, with an air of finality, gave her reply.

"I loved her once." And with a small, compassionate smile on her crimson lips, she was gone.
The man stood there, watching her walk away and unconsciously turning the wedding band on his left hand around and around in consideration. The story he had just heard played again through his mind as he stepped past the yellow caution line and stared off into traffic. The watch on his wrist beeped twice as the time came up to four o'clock.

End