Golden Ring
Somewhere in the tall grass, he took off his sandals. Sweeter to feel the soft grass under his toes; little green tongues licking away at his calluses as he climbed over small pebbles and chunks of rock.
He frowned at his feet. Searching for something.
Everything around him was symmetrical, replicated; dirt on dirt on dirt, like a panorama. He shook his head and kicked forlornly at a pebble.
"Did you find it?" Came the anxious voice of his lover from a grouping of rocks. He turned his head, shook it, and watched as his lover strolled back up the embankment. "Damnit; I knew I shouldn't have hidden it in the cobbler," He grunted, then dropped to his knees in the dirt and began sifting through the sand. "Did you look over here, Dwayne?"
Dwayne's amusement took the form of a smirk as he sank to his own knees in the sand. Here he was, the world heavyweight champion, digging around in the dirt for a ring. "Hey, babe, no one plans for ants. Even in the middle of the woods."
His blond lover glared; his brow drooped down with premature wrinkles, causing Dwayne to see even more humor in the situation. "Don't pout, Hunt."
Together, they dug through the park's soft dirt, focused intensely upon the task at hand. Within minutes, he discovered what he had sought all along. Eagerly, he grasped it from the ground.
A shiny, golden band, glittering on his palm.
****
The penthouse was lavish; guests expected it to be so. Silver candlesticks gleamed from glass tabletops; wooden knickknacks and objects d'art shone at each available surface.
Such a beautiful place to inhabit such terrible fights.
Too many of the neighbors knew that things had gone wrong; knew that Kurt Angle had been seen coming to and from the apartment at odd hours.
Dwayne knew that it had been a stupid idea; inviting another man into their bed. Hunter had insisted, repeatedly, that everything would be just fine; it would be a little experiment, a lark. But Dwayne understood well the nature of men. Friendly lust had turned to obsession, and now that he wanted to quit Hunter wanted to move Kurt into the penthouse.
The penthouse; the very same one they'd bought in a giddy haze of joyful commitment just a year ago. Dwayne's haven was quickly becoming a hostel. He hated it.
"I don't care WHAT he says!" Dwayne shouted, "I'm not letting him move in!"
Hunter's response was cold indifference, a vicious expression, and broken china. When pissed he could become an animal, and so he proved it by throwing more plates into the sink, where they shattered there.
"Take this," Dwayne snapped suddenly.
"What?" Hunter looked up from the fractured china.
"TAKE this," Dwayne snapped, holding out an open palm, "And leave."
Hunter's eyes clouded over when he saw what Dwayne offered him.
The simple golden band that had decorated his finger for years.
****
He stood alone in a pawn shop, facing the smooth blankness of the glass cases. Four years ago, he had shoved Hunter out of his life.
Two years ago, he had died.
It was not a frightening death, but a violent one; a car accident. Still, there was a mercy in it; Hunter and Kurt had been killed instantly.
Dwayne's instant reaction was rage; if only Hunter had listened to him, he would be alive. But in the end it only proved to be a bookend to their life together; a sense of permanence to an unworkable ending.
But he had been remembered. Upon Hunter's death, a bequest in his will stipulated that Dwayne get full ownership of the penthouse on his death.
And a plain golden ring he'd carried for years in his suitcase.
Now Dwayne stood, scars healing. It was time to divest himself of the ring; time to move on with his life and start anew. What better place to do it than in an anonymous stop between big cities? He caught the eye of a staring, happy young couple whose innocence shone through their giddiness. A few feet away, they stood, giggling over a case of plain golden rings they probably couldn't afford. He walked over to them and then, carefully, laid his ring down upon the gilt glass case.
"Take this," He said, in a kind tone.
The couple looked up from their blissful giggling to stare at Dwayne in surprise, "Thank you," The woman exclaimed, picking the ring up and tenderly, placing it on her fiancé's finger.
It fit perfectly.
Smiling, Dwayne turned from them and began a long stroll to the door.
Behind him, he heard,
"Wow, buddy...are you sure you want to just give us this?"
He didn't turn around, but responded, "You can have it. It's time I let it go on to a happier couple."
"But this is...shit, this has a Cartier engraving! And it's so heavy..not that you need the money sir...." There was a long pause as he reached the door, "Hey, don't I know you?" The man concluded.
Dwayne smiled, bittersweetly, "Yeah, probably." He said.
Then stepped out into the snow.