Sweet Water(53)

And now I’m hyperventilating.

“Give it to me.” Hanna begins yanking on my sweaty finger. “Why didn’t he check your ring size first? What kind of engineer is he?”

“How can you be cracking jokes right now?” I begin to cry. “I haven’t even graduated yet.” And we didn’t talk about this. You’re supposed to talk about these things first. But even if we didn’t, it shouldn’t feel this wrong.

“I’m sorry.” She pets my head. “You don’t have to go through with it.”

Hanna runs to her room and returns with a glass jar. She begins to rub something gooey on my finger, and I try not to question why she has such a large vat of petroleum jelly in her bedroom.

It works—the ring jerks over my knuckle. Hanna falls backward onto the ground. Now we’re both lying on the living room area rug, side by side. She’s holding my ring up to the light. “This bitch has the cut and clarity of a paragon.”

“A who?”

“A perfect diamond.”

“I always forget you’re going to be a chemical engineer.” I guess she would know about science-y things like that, but I didn’t. And this geologic fact doesn’t help me at all.

“I guess it’s really unreasonable that I would back out of the proposal, then.” I sigh. “Seeing as how he bought me a perfect diamond and all . . .”

“You turned him down?” Hanna sits up, and her bleached hair is stuck to her forehead.

I place my hands over my face. “Well, not at first. I couldn’t say no before he put the ring on my finger. I had to wait until after because he had a string quartet playing for me, Hanna!”

All Martin’s gestures are big, but I’m not the girl who needs big gestures. Or one who wants them. I fell in love with the simple kid on the frat house steps who wanted nothing more than a quiet dinner with the girl who’d brought him soup when he was sick.

We have a good relationship, Martin and I, but there are more discussions that need to be had before I can transition into an Ellsworth.

Hanna rolls her eyes, unamused. “Of course he did. It’s Martin.”

“‘Everything I Do’ by Bryan Adams.”

“Ugh. That’s an awful song. I would’ve backed out too.” She’s laughing again, and I hate her for it, but she makes me laugh-cry too.

“I know! I had to wait until they were done playing. And then I said yes. I couldn’t embarrass him. In front of all those people. We were at a fancy restaurant. It would’ve humiliated him.”

Hanna laughs. “Not in front of the quartet. Heck no.”

“And then I just said I needed time to think, and he told me to keep the ring and that every time I look at it, I’ll know how much he loves me. That’s why I just want it off!”

But why does he love me?

Is it for the wrong reasons? Is it because I was his good girl who kept him out of trouble? Does he expect me always to be? What does that entail exactly? I met his mother and don’t know if I can be like her, if that’s what he’s looking for.

I didn’t grow up country-club-style. There’s a lot more to the weight of this ring than the karat size.

“Well, I don’t really get why, but I’ve got this.” Hanna is bouncing the ring around on her palm, watching the waves of light from the window catch and reflect in the oversize prism.

I never needed a ring that big.

I never wanted a ring that big. Why didn’t he ask me before he went out and bought it? He should know these things if he’s to be my husband.

I’m panting. “I’m not a huge-ass-diamond kind of girl. He should go find one of those if that’s what he’s looking for.” It reminds me of the ring the lady had on at my mother’s funeral, the survivor. I had awful thoughts when her ring had grazed my skin, scratched it, really.

I wonder if she bought it in Switzerland? A victory purchase. I wonder if she scratches her kids with that ring when she hugs them like she did me.

I’ve always wanted to be one of the lucky ones, but now that it’s thrust upon my left ring finger with no warning, I’m not sure. About anything. Martin included. If he knew me, this ring should feel like the right one, the perfect fit. But it doesn’t. It’s too big in some ways and too small in others, and it symbolizes parts of myself that I’m not sure are real.

“Well, I am that kind of girl, but you could seriously maim your firstborn with this thing.”

“My thoughts exactly. What do I do?”

“You asked for a break. So take one. Come on. Let’s hide this rock in your sock drawer and hit the bar.”

“I promised my dad I’d help him Christmas shop.” I pant some more. “I’m already late.” It’s our day to go into the village and pick out our yearly Christmas ornament. He had to have known Martin was going to propose tonight. Surely he asked my dad first for my hand.

Hanna makes a worried face. “Meet me later, then?”

I nod, even though I have no intention of keeping my promise. Hanna holds out her hands and yanks me off the floor. She hugs me. “Just give yourself a minute to figure it out. No engagement should come as this big a surprise.”

“I know. Right?” I ask.

“Right,” she answers. My spontaneous, free-spirited roommate is also my voice of reason. It does feel completely out of the blue. Martin and I have talked about marriage, but not recently. It seems so sudden, surprising in a bad way, not a good one. This should be something the bride could see coming from a mile away, not a sneak attack.