Eventually, my eyesight glided away from the ring and to David’s eyes. They were focused on me, intently. I looked downward to his mouth. I saw his smile slacken just slightly.
Suddenly, something changed. David took my left hand and slid the ring onto my finger. It went on smoothly and cold. I still couldn’t find words to speak. He stood up and took me in his arms. I returned his embrace, and sound was restored to the backyard. I heard my parents’ voices again. I couldn’t make out their words, but their tones sounded musical and celebratory.
I heard David as he said in my ear, “Drew Valentine. We’re a good team.” He kissed me, and I somehow realized that my mom had gotten her phone out and was taking pictures of us.
I still hadn’t said a word. Yet, there I was in a man’s arms, his engagement ring glimmering on my finger.
◈ ◈ ◈
I woke up the next morning in my childhood bedroom, still at my parents’ house.
My dad had suggested I stay the night. When David and I had made our way back to the patio table, my mom had hugged both of us with teary eyes. My dad had given David a crinkly smile and examined the ring. David enlightened us all by saying that the diamond had belonged to his grandmother, but he’d visited a jewelry shop to have it set into a new ring. That way, he said, it would feel like my own.
It didn’t.
After additional tears from my emotional mother and a few more anecdotes David wanted to share with us, it was time to head back to Freya. That was when my dad had swooped his arm over my shoulder and asked me to stay the night. He didn’t offer an explanation, but he didn’t need to. I agreed to it, and David squeezed my hand, saying he would see me tomorrow.
Tomorrow came, and the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the diamond. It was resting on the mint-colored nightstand I had gotten when I was ten years old. It looked strange to me, something so elegant and luxurious lying atop a child’s piece of furniture.
Downstairs in the kitchen, I was relieved to find a box of Honeycombs in the pantry. I sat at the kitchen island and made myself a bowl. My parents appeared to be gone—probably running those errands they’d talked about last night. I finished my last bite of cereal and nearly fell off my stool when my dad entered the kitchen from the door adjacent to the refrigerator.
“Drew.” He greeted me in his stoic manner and proceeded to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
“I thought you and Mom were out doing stuff today? Errands?”
“Your mom is. Costco, Home Depot, the mechanic.”
“All by herself?”
He took a gulp of water and screwed the lid back onto his bottle. “Drew. Get dressed. I want to take you somewhere.”
He drove the two of us in his car, away from the house, away from the suburban part of town. He turned onto a road that twisted and curved and sloped down until it paralleled the local river. He didn’t say anything as he drove; neither did I.
The road straightened out eventually, and my dad parked on the shoulder, in the dirt. He got out of the car, so I followed suit. We looked both ways and crossed the road, then headed down through the trees. It didn’t take long before we were at the river’s edge. My dad took a seat close to the water on a smooth rock. I found another smooth rock and sat down, too.
We remained there, both of us mute. The morning air was still a little cool on my skin. The river was slow and provided the only sound in this odd scene. My dad was looking at the water. His coffee black hair had just the slightest tinge of brown from the sunlight. My hair probably looked the same. Whether our thoughts were the same, however, I was completely unsure of. I was confused.
“Is something wrong?” My question seemed to startle him, like he’d been in a trance. He kept his eyes on the water.
“I don’t know,” he said. Then we were quiet again for a while.
It wasn’t the most reassuring answer, but for some reason, it didn’t alarm me. Actually, the longer we sat there on our rocks, the calmer I felt. I circled my head around and took in the scenery. I let my eyes wander across the way and noticed a particular tree on the other side of the water. Its bark was scarlet. Its leaves were lacey and deep green.
“There’s a cedar.” I gave speaking another try and pointed at the tree. “Your favorite.”
That seemed to have an effect. My dad made eye contact with me for the first time.
“You remember that?”
“You taught me the names of the trees,” I explained. “And I remember you said cedar was your favorite.”
He turned back to the water. He had a faint smile, but then it vanished.
“Is this about Cambria?” I asked. “About her not being a doctor? I don’t know if she told you that I kind of advised her against it.”
“It’s not about Cambria.”
“You’re not mad about it? Or disappointed?”
“No. I thought she genuinely wanted to be a doctor. If that’s not the case, she shouldn’t do it.”
“Oh. Okay.”
We became mute yet again for a period of time.
“Drew. I don’t think you should marry that man.”
The constant trickling sounds of the river grew louder in my ears. Or maybe it was just the blood in my arteries, rushing up to my head.
“I don’t think you want to,” my dad stated, matter-of-fact.
When I still didn’t say anything in return, he carried on.
“Maybe I’m wrong, and you can do what you want. You’re an adult, and I haven’t been around for you much, so I understand if you’re not all that interested in what I have to say. But I need to say it anyway. I’d like to think that after thirty years of being a doctor and interacting with patients, I can read people pretty well. Now, that was only the first time I’d met David, but sometimes that’s all it takes. He’s a politician, plain and simple, and he wants a politician’s wife. Someone who comes off as supportive and respectable, because it makes him look respectable. Maybe he’s a decent man, although decent politician sounds like an oxymoron to me. Again, maybe I’m wrong, and you can do what you want, Drew. But I want what’s best for you. I know I’m not the most demonstrative father, but I think that’s what love is—wanting the best for someone. I just want you to know that, if you ask me, there’s something better for you out there. I’m almost positive of that. Now, I think that’s it for this rant of mine. I’m done.”
He stopped speaking. The river’s trickling filled up the silence once more. His words sunk into me slowly, a time-consuming process. I’d never heard my dad talk at such length before. Minutes passed until I finally felt I had digested everything. I got up from my rock, walked a few steps, and made a spot for myself next to my dad. I leaned into him, and he put his arm around my back. I looked at my left hand and realized I had forgotten to put the ring on before leaving the house.
“You know, your mother let me pick out your name while she was pregnant with you.”
I didn’t know this. I sat up a bit straighter.
“My name means strong. Bryan. I wanted your name to mean the same thing. I did some research, found Drew, and I knew that was the one.”
I thought about this for a few minutes.