“I had to have them resized,” I tell him. I don’t really know why. “When Rhys proposed, the ring he bought me was tiny, and he was really annoyed that I wasn’t small enough for it, but hesent it off to be made bigger anyway. Then when he bought the wedding ring, he bought the same size again.”
Connor barely breathes while he listens to me speak, his eyes still firmly on the rings. His warm hands squeeze mine slightly as I speak.
“Luckily, I tried it on one day when he was at work and realised it was too small. I had it resized without him knowing.”
“He didn’t deserve you.” Connor’s voice is unusually husky as he speaks. He twirls the diamond rings around my finger, and for a second, I think he’s going to pull them off, but then he lets go. “You should get rid of them. Sell them and get yourself something worthy of you.”
Wow. I give him a quick, embarrassed smile and turn away to busy myself with cleaning up my blood from the counter so I can avoid looking at him. He picks up on my discomfort and gives me a much-appreciated out.
“Go and sit down, I’ll clean this up and make you a fresh salad.”
I thank him quietly and make my way towards the living room. At least I’ve been successful in distracting him from my diet.
“And don’t think we’re done talking about this ridiculous diet you’re on.”
Spoke too soon.
After lunch (Connor remade my salad exactly as I’d weighed it and handed it to me with a huff and an eye-roll which weren’t included in my original recipe), I tell him I’m going to my room to read for a while. In truth, I just have to get some space. I pop my earbuds in, start my ‘Sad Songs’ playlist and lie back on the bed.
I look again at my ring finger. The diamond in the engagement ring shines even in the dim light, reminding me how happy Rhys and I used to be. Or at least how happy I thought we were. But as I lie there, I realise I can’t think of a time when we were completely happy since those first couple of years before we got married. Not one completely happy memory in five years. Each almost-happy memory is tainted by Rhys’s moods, his words or my own intrusive thoughts.
My gaze wanders up my finger to the bright blue plaster Connor put on so carefully earlier. I can’t help but wonder if Rhys would have taken care of me like that. I doubt it. It’s a sobering thought. Maybe Connor’s right. Maybe it’s time for the rings to come off.
Chapter 8
You’re not going anywhere
I don’t take off the rings.
I thought about it all weekend, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m confident that my marriage is over, but taking off my rings feels like I’m closing a huge chapter of my life, and I don’t think I’m ready to start the next one yet. Besides, the children in my class are observant enough to notice something like missing wedding rings, and I’m definitely not ready to be questioned about it by nine-year-olds.
“Okay, off you go for lunch,” I say to my class.
They leave the room in single file and head to the canteen while I collect in their books for marking. My morning hasn’t gone brilliantly, despite carefully planning all of my lessons over the weekend. Whatever could go wrong, did go wrong.
That’s because you’re shit at your job.
Without the option of blasting my music to drown out my inner-critic, I hum to myself as I pick up the scraps of paper and stray pencils littering the once-blue, now-grey carpet.
“Mrs Simmons?”
The small voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I turn to the girl standing next to my desk. “Everything alright, Alys?”
Alys is one of the kindest and most sociable kids in my class, but she struggles with her work. She never lets it get her down and always tries her best anyway. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have the best home life, and lack of support and even interest from her parents has led to her falling even further behind.
“I just wanted to say thank you. For buying me lunch the other day when my mum didn’t… when she forgot to pack mine.”
Her mum didn’t forget; we both know that. She just didn’t bother. But for the sake of Alys’s pride, I go along with it.
“Anytime, sweetheart. Did your mum remember to pack your lunch today?”
Alys nods and holds out her lunch bag. It looks heartbreakingly light.
“Here,” I say. I reach into my desk drawer and pull out a packet of crisps and a cereal bar I keep in there for occasions such as this. “Have these too, for helping me sort out those papers I dropped earlier.”
The little girl smiles appreciatively and takes the snacks, popping them into her lunch bag. Once they’re safely inside, she takes a step forward and throws her arms around me. She’s small for a nine-year-old, and barely reaches my waist, but she hugs me tightly. I hug her back, sending her as much comfort as I can before releasing her.
“Go and enjoy your lunch. And let me know if Mum forgets your lunch again, okay?”
