THE WEDDING RING

( I HAVE WRITTEN THIS IN FIRST PERSON AS I USUALLY DO, THIS IS SOMETHING SHARED BY ONE OF MY COUSINS )

In the middle school creative writing class, our teacher gave assignments designed to make students think about the details of life and I’ve found that these produce the best writings. We make use of each of their senses as well as to get to the heart of things, for some of my classmates; those voices express certain sentiments that desperately need an outlet.

One day, she asked the students to describe an object and its particular significance to them personally. Next day on the bus to school all of us sat discussing what we are going to write about, however one of my friends, Shirley Matthews declared she ain’t doing it

Now I knew Shirley well, we spent are junior years together, she was an excellent writer, so this statement surprised me, I looked at her for a moment, her attitude of defiance was completely uncharacteristic, I didn’t press on as I thought she would gradually change her mind, when I saw later that day, she was still hell bend on not doing it, something in her voice made me ask her what this is all about. “Are you having trouble picking an object or what?”

She was quite for a moment and then said, “No. last night I told my mum about the assignment, she said she had an idea of something special for me to write about, she took me to her room, she opened her jewellery box, I thought she’s gonna show me some pair of earrings that belonged to my grandma, I was already thinking; oh this is gonna be easy” she stopped for a moment, I could she that she was having a hard time with her next thoughts

“But she didn’t give me a piece of my grandma’s jewelry. She took out the wedding ring my father had given her and handed it to me.”

I thought for a minute, I remembered from conferences that Shirley’s parents had different last names, but her stepfather was always interested in her progress and as proud of her achievements as her mother, and Shirley seemed so well adjusted that I never had any reason to assume differently. But the teenager in front of me was miserable, “how could she have kept the ring? How could she want me to have it?” she began to cry “they got divorced when I was a baby, I don’t even know how he looks like, and I hate him! I don’t want the stupid wedding ring!

Shirley’s anger was acute; I asked gently, “what did you do then?”

“I threw the ring as hard as I could against the wall. It made a mark and fell behind the dresser and I ran to my room and slammed the door shut. My mom didn’t yell at me or anything. She didn’t even make me move the dresser to get the ring.”

Wise woman .I thought

“You don’t have to write about the ring.” I said. “You know you can choose anything you want, don’t you?” even as I said it, I knew that Shirley had, in fact, wanted to talk if not write about that ring, I knew that all the rage and frustration of an abandoned child were symbolized in that ring, but am not an psychologist and certainly not her mom, it wasn’t my place to force her to express painful feelings.

That night Shirley’s mom called me up, and she asked whether Shirley had discussed something about the ring, I thought as her mom she had the right to know, so I told her about it, she thanked me for letting her know . Then she said “I knew it she would have told you” every mom has superpowers to get these things right I guess! “I didn’t realize how angry she is- not just at her father, but at me also. But, I kept that ring to remind me of the good times in my marriage- there were good times.” She paused and then said softly, “if I hadn’t married him, I wouldn’t have Shirley.”

I had no idea how to react to what her mom was telling me; I mean I am just an adolescent;

“Tell her” I said

The next day, I waited anxiously for Shirley, her feelings were understandable. But, I hoped that the obvious love between mother and daughter would help her deal with her feelings.

Shirley smiled at me when she came in. she said, “I’m a little sore today.” She winked, “I moved some heavy furniture last night.”

I smiled back; I was tempted to make some comment about weights being lifted, but then she handed me a composition and said “submit my essay will you” and left

Her essay about the wedding ring was short. Shirley wrote: “things are just things- they have no power to hurt or to heal. Only people can do that. And we can all choose whether to be hurt or healed by the people who love us.”

That was all

That was everything.