The Ring

“What if we did tattoos?”

“Are you sure? What if it doesn’t work out?”

I shrugged, “I mean, it’s cheaper than a ring.”

. . .

I had never seen her so beautiful.

Pearls in her hair.

I had never been so nervous, either.

Clutching the lining of my pockets like a school child.

I took a deep breath:

She made me feel brave.

. . .

“Is this the place?”

We drove together to the closest shop.

$25 a piece. I paid.

It was fitting, I thought. Giving the gift of forever:

Forever in needle and ink.

We drove around a couple of times.

There were a lot of people gathered outside.

We didn’t fit in.

“Are you sure?”

. . .

I always hated weddings. The bowing and the “I do’s.”

The makeup covering no sleep, smiles.

And everyone knows they’ll be fighting by morning.

I guess, really, I hated promises.

Like I missed my own prom. Get it?

It’s not really funny I suppose.

. . .

When I first met Emily, I was 18.

It’s kind of a funny story, actually.

The beginning matters less and less.

We were roommates at a Catholic school.

And she always thought I was so cool.

Marriage shouldn’t be like that, though.

One on their knees,

The other, the altar itself.

. . .

“What if we did tattoos?”

. . .

I think next, I might get one on my neck.

“Stay Sweet.”

At the time, I didn’t see it.

But the girl in the bunk next to me,

Those were her last words before we were released.

My wife was down the hallway in another cell.

She couldn’t hear,

But she did see.

I don’t know when the other girl got out.

Or if she left her shitty boyfriend.

I didn’t understand why she stayed.

I asked her why they treated each other that way.

“Insecurity, I guess.”

. . .

You know the worst part?

It was the silence, mostly.

The oppressive silence.

She would just say the stupidest things!

And I couldn’t understand,

How she could love me so much

And I just…

It was hard.

I did love her, though.

I do.

I did.

. . .

You’re Invited!

Mx. and Mrs.

July 5, 2017.

. . .

It was after we went to jail together--

That’s why we got married.

It doesn’t sound like it makes sense,

But it did.

On June 5, we got married.

Because I wanted to.

And she wanted to.

And because I wanted to show her I could love like that.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never felt like I want this more than right now.”

. . .

She told me once, “I just really feel like I can be me with you.

I’m more me than I have ever been.

It’s not always fun or easy for me, but 100% you are worth it.

And I think we are, too.”

I wrote that down, that one.

January 25, 2018.

I wanted to remember.

Why I stayed.

. . .

“Will you get it covered up?”

“I don’t think so. I like it. I like the way it looks.

And it was still one of the happiest days.”

. . .

I think it was the happiest day of my life.

I had orange hair.

She didn’t seem nervous.

She seemed,

Sure.

My best friends did the ceremony.

She chose the lakeside.

Our dogs carried joints around their necks.

Stoner kids getting married.

It was sweet.

. . .

“Should we even celebrate? When we know we won’t be together?”

I thought for a moment, “I think so. A year is still worth commemorating.”

. . .

I don’t remember the last time I saw her.

Whether we hugged, or kissed.

Or whether I just waved,

And she breathed a sigh of relief.

At least we didn’t have to feel the silence, anymore.

. . .

I wondered if she would get it covered up.

I wondered if her fiancé ever heard about the good parts.

I heard she told everyone I was cruel.

Well, I guess I was cruel.

After all:

Who makes a promise without saying the words?

Who makes a promise in ink, alone?

. . .

“I do. Do you?”

“I can’t see any reason why I won’t.”