I send another text to Coach Janssen.
Me: I'll have an update about the citizenship thing by the end of the week. Things are chugging along, and it should be smooth sailing.
Janssen: Good to hear. Front office is just waiting on your paperwork.
Me: Hopefully soon. Good luck next week.
The Buzzards are in the championship game. Envy floods me. Why couldn't I have been sacked with Janssen and Kenley? Then I too would be on my way to the championship, instead of moving heaven and earth to play one more game.
Janssen: We're having a small reception tonight at The Tower for the media. You should stop by.
There's so much weight to this. When someone from the organization makes this suggestion, it's not actually a suggestion. And media.
Things must've progressed faster than I'd realized. Perhaps no news is good news.
And speaking of news, I glance toward the bedroom door where I can hear Ophelia and Marley giggling. I'm sure I don't even want to take a gander at what's going on in there. My phone buzzes again.
Ophelia: I have my great-grandmother's ring if you want to use that for me. I'll get you one as soon as I can.
Bugger. I hadn't even thought about that.
Ophelia: Only because Marley will ask. I'm going to go to the bathroom in a minute. I'll leave the ring on your toothbrush.
I glance around and the inflatable mattress immediately catches my eye. That's sure to draw suspicion. I deflate it and roll it up, shoving it behind my pile of suitcases in the corner.
I hear the bedroom door open and close, and then the bathroom one. After a few moments, I hear the reverse. I call, a little more loudly than necessary, "If you don't mind, I'm going to get dressed right now. I'll just use the bathroom since Marley is here."
I see the delicate gold ring on my toothbrush, as promised. It's plain, a small cloudy solitaire on a gold band. I can do better than this. I have to do better than this. No one would believe that I would give this to the woman I love.
It's noon now. Perhaps I can make this work. Pulling out my phone, I do a quick search for jewelers near us. I find one down Beacon Street. Immediately I order an Uber. I call to the girls, "Going out for a bit, be back by two at the latest."
Once in the car, I send another text to Tony.
Me: I'm buying her a ring. You need to include in the contract that she keeps it.
It's only fair. She's doing a lot for me.
I send another text to Coach Janssen.
Me: I'd love to stop by. Is it okay if I bring a date?
I should have typed my wife, as we'll be married by then.
Wife.
My stomach clenches into a tight fist and small beads of perspiration dot my forehead. What'm I doing? This whole thing is bloody barmy.
It's my last chance to play football.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
I dash across Beacon Street, donning my mask as I walk into the store. I must look like a fool because an elderly gentleman flocks to me, ready to separate me from my money.
"What can I help you with today?"
"I'm sorry, but I need a ring. A wedding ring. Or engagement ring? I bloody don't know. I'm getting married in a few hours." The words feel like marbles in my mouth. The mask isn't helping.
"That'll be no problem. We have some in this case here that are ready to sell, but we also have estate rings on consignment. What size do you need?"
