Our first night together. I wrote it in a hurry to leave before he woke up. I already knew back then it wasn’t enough, but looking at it now, I wonder what the hell went through my mind that early morning. But hekept it, somehow. He balled it up in frustration before deciding to keep it. Maybe as a memento, a warning, a reminder… That, only he knows. But there it is, in the top drawer of his desk…
No, no, no. I’m not crying again. I’ve been doing enough of that. Plus, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to cry to Rihanna’s “Don’t Stop the Music.” With a trembling hand, I put it back in its place, unsure Lex would want me to know this detail.
Maybe I should work on something less… intimate. His dressing room is also an absolute mess, and that’s pretty easy and harmless. I’ll refold everything, put it back on hangers, maybe do some ironing… Yes, that sounds like I won’t burst into tears at some random note.
As I pass through the bedroom, I force my eyes not to turn to the massive bed with the pillows and duvet thrown together in what looks like a cozy nest. If I lie in there, inhissmell, I might never get up again for the rest of the weekend.
There’s something oddly satisfying about picking up Lex’s clothes and putting them back on their racks. It’s an easily done job, and the room looks almost normal again. The underwear and sock drawers have been turned over on the floor, and once again, I feel like there was a better way to search all that. I grab as many as I can in my arms to put them on top of the chest of drawers and start folding. During the motion, though, something falls off and lands on the floor with athud. My breath catches in my throat as I glance at the object.
It’s a small jewelry box. The kind one puts a ring in. And it’s old, and used, and I know that color because I’ve seen it during my childhood, whenever my abuela would let me use her vanity to play pretend and put some makeup and jewels on.
I do nothing for an entire minute, my eyes locked on the box that seems to dare me to pick it up and check what’s inside. Why would Lex keep that hidden in his underwear?
I gaze at the box as if I can see through it and guess its contents, trying to preserve Lex’s privacy. “Oh, fuck this,” I mumble to myself, emptying my arms’ contents to bend down and pick up the box.
Holy shit … Holy fucking shit …
Lex has my abuela’s engagement ring. She stopped wearing it a while ago because her fingers started to randomly swell, but I’d recognize it anywhere. When my abuelo first proposed, he didn’t have the means to buy an impressive ring—nothing more than a modest round diamond and a gold band. For their thirtieth anniversary, though, he had it reworked by a jeweler, and while the original diamond is still there, it’s now surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds, making it look much larger than it is. I grew up seeing this ring, this symbol of a love that even death couldn’t alter.
And now Lex has it. And it’s not that hard to guess why. He wanted to marry me.Idiot, of course he did…We talked about our future together. I knew this would come. But seeing the tangible proof of it hits differently.
I’m still staring at the ring, in shock, when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Distractedly, I pull it out to check the number. I have no idea who that is, so I consider letting it go to voicemail. It’s probably another one of those blood-sucking journalists. Ever since the hearing, their attention has shifted from Kevin to latch onto me instead. The world knows I’m Lex’s girlfriend, so they’re harassing me in the hope of getting a Pulitzer-winning scoop or something.
I’m about to decline when I notice the location indicator. 503. Northwest Oregon, like my parents.
Full of hope, I press the green button before eagerly bringing the phone to my ear. Without having to say anything, Iris does as programmed and dims the music, just in time for me to hear a feminine robotic voice explain: “This is a prepaid call from an inmate at Sheridan’s Federal Correctional Institution. All phone calls are subject to recording and monitoring. To decline this call, press nine. To accept this call, press one.”
I couldn’t press one any faster than I do.
“Your call has been accepted,” the voice continues. Then it switches to a faint hubbub, which must be the background noise at the prison. My heart grows heavy, its beat so strong I can hear it thumping in my ears.
“Lex?” I softly call when a few seconds have passed without him saying anything.
“Hi.” That one syllable, his voice, brings a smile to my lips.
“Hi.”
“Sorry, I meant to call sooner, but they wouldn’t let me contact anyone aside from my lawyers.”
“I know, it’s okay. It’s so good to hear from you.” Another pause, another moment of awkward tension where all I can hear is the chatting around him. “Are you okay, baby?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away, and I immediately want to scold myself for the stupidity of that question. “I’m hanging on,” he eventually replies. “You?”
“Same. I’m at your place right now, tidying up a little.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that.”
“It’s okay, I want to. They left such a mess behind, and I want everything to look good when you… come back.” Do I sound as uncertain as I feel? I want to believe he’ll be back soon, but I’m not as confident as I was before the hearing.
“You can ask Iris to contact the cleaning company. They’ll send Katya again. You shouldn’t have to do it all by yourself.”
Although I want to protest, I don’t. It must be hard enough for him to be locked up. I won’t add to the helplessness he probably feels all the time. “Alright, thank you, Lex.”
“I’ve added you to my visitors list,” he says after another lengthy pause. “Kev, too. I don’t want to see anyone else for now.”
I know it’ll hurt Shelly and his sisters, but it’s his decision to make, so I say nothing. “They’ll send you the protocol, visiting times, and all the information you might need,” he continues.
