Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I
never liked that cliche'.
It implies that my past isn't important. It's damn
important to me. I
catch myself twisting the ring on my right hand and smile
sadly. A nervous
habit I picked up long ago. It's the engagement
ring from my first
husband, Zeke. It's all I have left of him.
My wedding ring was stolen by
my rapist.
I have to catch my breath, even after thirty-eight years.
I wipe angrily
at an errant tear that escapes my left eye. My
hands are shaking and I
will them to stop. I'm sixty-eight years old, damnit!
You'd think that
all the therapy I went through I would be better than
this. I know it's
not really the rape that bothers me. No, what bothers
me is that I lost
Zeke so soon afterward. I had just started going
to therapy. We were
starting to talk seriously again after weeks of curt,
meaningless
conversations. And one night on the subway, he
gets killed. I remember
how he looked the last time I saw him. I'm curled
in the corner of the
couch, my customary position since...that night.
He stops with the door
open and turns back to me. 'Roz', he whispers in
that raspy voice of his.
I look up. Eyes so full of sadness meet mine and
I want to weep for him
instead of myself. I honestly don't know who hurt
more during that time;
me or him.
I thank God I didn't have to identify the body.
The face was
unrecognizable, they told me. A gunshot fired point-blank
range at his
nose. I had to have a closed casket, denied even
that small bit of closure
of saying good-bye. I stroked the coffin's edge
and thought, 'You left me
just when I needed you most'.
Zeke was a decorated policeman; he received some of the
highest honors.
His funeral was just as decorated, with attendance by
the Police
Commissioner himself. Zeke's pals at the precinct
helped me box things up
and move into a small apartment. Even his captain
came by and made sure I
was taking care of myself. I was grateful for what
they did, but I
couldn't feel grateful. I didn't feel much for
a long time. I hated
selling the house, but I couldn't stay there. Not
with the memories. Not
with Jax's ghost. Not without Zeke there to overshadow
it.
I take a steadying breath and force myself to focus on
the here and now.
Today, I retire from my teaching tenure of twenty years.
I don't know if
teachers get gold watches for retirement, or even if
women do. The staff
is throwing me a party, and I better get ready.
Jake will be home soon to
take me.
The party is a sweet gesture thrown by dear friends I've
made at this
school. I'm laughing and having a glorious time.
There is a small stack
of presents that they want me to open. They really
shouldn't have. I know
what teacher's salaries are, and I jokingly tell them
so. The first is a
gold pen set, engraved with the name of the school and
the years I've been
here. Another is a mini-DVD collection of all the
places I talked about
visiting. 'You better see them in person,' someone
calls from the crowd.
We all laugh politely. Jake's going to retire at
the end of the year, and
we have enough saved up to travel for about six months.
That's the plan,
anyway. He hugs me from behind, and I smile at
his touch. He hands me
another present, this one in a small, plain box.
Funny that it's addressed
to 'Roz'; no one's called me that in years. My
fingertip traces the name
as a warmth fills my chest. The lid drops from
my suddenly numb fingers.
I clutch the box despite the shaking in my hands.
It can't be. Not after
all these years. All sound fades in the background,
nothing seems real as
I remove the wedding band. I try to slip it on
my shaking fingers. It
doesn't fit; not surprising as it's been...too long.
Far too long. Jake
is calling to me, trying to find out what's wrong.
I can't get words past
the lump in my throat. I shake my head, my inability
to speak not lost on
him. He guides me to a chair, but my eyes never
leave the circle of gold.
I don't know how anyone would know it was mine.
I don't know where it came
from. They found nothing on Jax when he was arrested.
Then he was dead of
a drug overdose before the trial. 'Thank you,'
I whisper to the wind,
hoping it will carry to whomever found my ring.
In a cramped alley in India, Ezekiel Stone knows that
these are his last
moments on earth. He hesitates for the briefest
moment before stabbing out
the eyes of the last escaped soul. Her screams
of outrage at being sent
back to Hell do not affect him. He is lost in memories
of Roz. Her smile,
her laugh; how she looked the last time he saw her.
He senses someone
watching him.
The Devil appears out of the shadows, applauding.
'Time for you to return,
too,' he announces gleefully. Zeke feels a momentary
flare of anger, but
it passes quickly into resignation. He never really
believed that the
Devil would agree to let one of his 'children' go.
He is damned to
eternity in Hell.
The last tattoo starts to burn off, but continues spreading,
consuming his
flesh. Zeke's borrowed time is up. He has
a flash of panic, and his hand
reaches up for the necklace that holds Roz's ring, forgetting
he arranged
to have it delivered to her retirement party two weeks
ago. He wants her
to have one piece of him that is untainted by his sin.
A symbol of their
love that he takes with him back to Hell. His earthly
body disintegrates
without a sound, but the smile seems to linger until
the last possible
second.
The End
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