I Haven’t Said I’ll Marry Him

"I got you a surprise!" Excitement said, awkwardly fumbling for the black velvet box in his pocket.

He knelt down before me. I felt my heart clench. Silently I prayed, "Not here, not now, not today!" He didn’t read the panic in my eyes and he continued on.

He opened the box and revealed a delicate engagement ring embellished by the smallest chip of a diamond I’d ever seen with a thin gold wedding band to match. "I figured I owed it to you, since I lost your last engagement ring."

He did not just say that, did he? I’d warned him when we pawned my last engagement ring not to give me another until he was ready to get down on one knee and give me a romantic proposal. His last proposal had consisted of him picking me up from work and while driving me home, pointing to the box and saying, "Look what I got you!"

At the time the ring had made up for the lack of question. That had been such a beautiful ring. It had been a one karat marquis cut diamond surrounded by two waves of diamond baguettes and the ring itself had so much gold on it that my hand felt heavy when I wore it. I’d cried when we pawned it. We’d put it in for only $100 to make sure that we would be able to buy it back again the next month. Still even $100 is a fortune when you’re down to nothing.

"Well?" he prompted me, breaking my train of thought. I realized he was still before me, down on one knee, and I’d been staring at him with a horror stricken expression on my face. This couldn’t be happening. He could not be proposing to me while I was wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants, in a hospital, with shrinks and psych techs all around. He could not be offering to replace that beautiful ring he had once given me with this cracker jack prize that couldn’t have cost more than $50. I’m not a materialistic person, but a ring is supposed to be a reflection of how much you mean to your partner. Did I really mean so little to him?