My Mother Recognized My Fake Fiance From an Autumn Night Five Years Ago
“I want you to have this,” he said, pressing the box into my hand.
I opened it to find a simple, thin silver ring, worn smooth along the edges where a pattern of small flowers had once been.
“It was my mother’s,” he said. “She was a woman who believed in the truth, even when it was hard. I should have given it to you years ago, before we let this house become what it is.”
“I don’t know if I can wear this, Dad,” I said, looking at the pale metal.
“Keep it anyway,” he said. “Just to remind you that some things in this family were real, before we started paying people to lie for us.”
I closed the box and slipped it into the pocket of my wool sweater, the weight of it sitting heavy against my hip.
“What is Christopher going to do?” I asked.
“He is waiting in the driveway,” my father said. “I am going to speak with him now. But first, you should talk to your mother. She needs to hear it from you.”
