The Diamond

Photo by Karina Thomson on Unsplash

by Jenny Morelli

I didn’t notice its absence right away.

We were halfway to work and I was mindlessly spinning with my thumb the empty prongs of my engagement ring.

My stomach churned. My breathing shallowed. Vision tunneled into a shard-sharp clarity.

I stopped talking midsentence; tried to recover, to fix my face into some semblance of normal because my husband, cluelessly driving and talking, the man who spent several paychecks’ worth of money on the diamond, could not know about this.

I knew he’d understand it wasn’t my fault.

I knew he’d love me anyway.

I knew he’d forgive me for such a material and superficial loss because that’s what unconditional love is, but still.

I had to find it and searching in our impossibly dark car was not an option. My mind whirled at a dizzying speed of where it could be: the toilet, the sink, the garbage, litterbox, garage floor, car floor, driveway, until we arrived and I leapt from the car with a peck on his cheek and a mumbled ‘I gotta pee’ so he wouldn’t see the look on my face, the fear in my eyes.

Throughout that day, I showed my everyday facets of teacher, colleague, counselor, friend; tenaciously taught as my mind spun and my thumb spun that empty-pronged ring on my finger round and round as if I could spin it back into existence, and that is how I made it through the day and through the drive back home without fazing my husband.

When we pulled up to our house, I bolted from our car to check the driveway and the garbage, the litter, toilet, sink, cursing up a storm before giving up with a huff, admitting defeat as I unpacked my bag of folders and binders, lunch foods and snacks, and there it was.

At the bottom of my pink canvas bag, a brilliant beacon beamed under the grimy glass kitchen light. That damn diamond sat in my bag all day as clueless as my husband of the panic I’d endured from sunrise to sunset, and that was when I vowed to never again wear jewelry outside my house even though, when I told him, he understood it wasn’t my fault.

He promised he’d have loved me anyway. He forgave me for worrying about such a material and superficial loss when our love is unconditional.

Sometimes you don’t notice the absence of a thing, but I’ll always feel the presence of our love.

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
Jenny Morelli is a NJ high school English teacher who lives with her husband, cat, and myriad yard pets. She seeks inspiration in everything around her. She’s published in several literary magazines including Red Rose Thorns, Spillwords, Scars tv. This is her fourth poetry chapbook with Bottlecap Press. Check out her website for more: JennyMorelliWrites.com