JUMP HOOPS AND CONDENSATION RINGS
She twisted the metal band around her finger nervously. She was a half hour early to the bar, hoping a drink would calm her down. Give her some perspective. She still wasn’t sure about her answer.
He had given her the ostentatious silver accessory to her some 8 weeks ago, and she accepted it with as much irony as she could convey. He had called it a fashion statement after all. Was he truly expecting the answer? She tried to reason with herself.
The unspoken promise of a ring seemed like a heavier weight than the cold metal could carry. Yet, somehow, it did. It conveyed a sincerity she couldn’t understand.
By design, he was completely insincere. They’d had a solid relationship based on this understanding. He was insincere and she was icy. It was atypical, but it worked.
In fact, that’s the only reason she’d allowed him to get this close. They joked about how trivial they were to each other, each going out of their way to make the other feeling silly about being attached, initiating plans, leaning in for a kiss. They would make it a competition of who arrived later for a date. It seemed toxic to her friends at first, but she wanted to raise toxic one higher.
This was a familiar pattern. They hadn’t got bored for the years they’d been “dating”. They hadn’t even discussed the air quotes.
That’s how it was. She wished he’d given her a paper ring.
Something that held as little value to him as she did. She’d hoped at least, he held her with the same contempt as she’d come to expect from herself. And him, when they were alone, vulnerable and unclothed. She forgotten who had suggested humiliation.
It didn’t matter. They’d both enjoyed all of it.
It gave her something to hold on to. To keep from losing who she was and her control of her mind.
She’d seen enough people erode their defenses after they’d committed to a partner. She’d laughed at their naivete. With him, more often than not.
He was making it hard now. She was mad at him, more than anything.
She wouldn’t be his “wife” if she agreed. They’d have to drop the quotes. She shivered at this thought against the icy glass at her temple.
She hated that he’d pointed to her “accessory” at home that morning and asked her if she wanted him to bring her the return receipt at this bar today. He was being wonderfully calm about everything. Indifferent, like the flake he was.
She loved jumping through his hoops, and she wondered absently if this was a literal metaphor. He was terrible at gifts on purpose.
She watched him arrive right on time, a first for either of them. He looked sloppy, but it was carefully done.
She knew how he mussed his hair so she’d never know he spent careful minutes tending to how the individual locks didn’t align. His shirt was pushed up his arm with a recklessness she adored.
She smiled despite herself. She downed her drink, realizing she was taking it all too seriously- the ring was her buy in for years of games.
The stakes were just going to be higher. Much more fun.
Stormy Skies by Suradha Iyer 