My Lover Didn't Put a Ring on Me
For ten years, I have stayed by Maren Hale's side without her formally acknowledging me as her boyfriend. Thus, I become the oldest kept man in Harborfield.
After I turn 30, I have asked her to marry me more than 30 times. Each time, she smiles and kisses me.
"Reid, I'll marry you when I'm ready," she says.
When I'm 31, a car accident nearly kills me. Still shaken, I propose to Maren. She tells me to wait a little longer.
By the time I'm 33, a doctor warns me that my kidney function is declining. I wave the diagnosis report in front of her and press for marriage. Yet, she still tells me to wait.
While I wait for her, the sun rises and sets over Mount Carlisle more than 3,600 times.
Finally, I think she is ready. Holding back tears, I promise my seriously ill father that he will live to see me get married.
What I don't know is that Maren is not opposed to marriage. It's just that the ten years she spends fooling around with me are nothing more than an act of rebellion against her mother, who has driven away her former fiancé.
Before the banquet, I see the ring I give Maren inside her handbag. I think she is finally going to accept my proposal.
Nervous and hopeful, I wait the entire evening.
But just moments ago, during a game of dare, she casually tosses the ring to a male model she has just met.
"The kid is turning 20. A pink diamond suits him perfectly. Next time, I'll have an emerald one made for us."
The entire room bursts into laughter.
I laugh along with them.
"Don't bother," I said. "Someone else already has a rock waiting for me, and I said yes."