I’d sharpen an eyebrow pencil to a vicious point. When Jen and Dan had left for work, I’d attack Kate while she brought me my breakfast. Go for the jugular. Whatever it took to get out of here.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Reminiscing about Juan and the mess he got me into, I lay slumped in my bath, admiring my engagement ring. One thing, at least, I could still appreciate. It twinkled in the pinkish dawn light that shone through the colossal windows of my big glass house.
The square, yellow diamond solitaire shimmered majestically. Set on a simple platinum band, it glinted at me in recognition, a witness to everything we’d been through together. So elegant, cut so it sparkled in a thousand directions. A ring I had picked out from an advertisement in Vogue, never dreaming Juan would actually buy it for me, hence the message, Yes, you, engraved inside the band. The diamond was originally antique, the jeweler at Tiffany had informed me, so it had to be made specially. So expensive, it didn’t even have a price tag. I remembered the thrill of unraveling the bow of the thick, silky white ribbon from the trademark Tiffany box. Just the box alone had got my heart racing with anticipation let alone the ring itself.
As I twirled it around now, my sixth, invisible finger twitched on the edge of my knuckle, the muscle memory still there, the scar almost invisible. The surgeon had done an amazing job. I turned the ring over carefully, rejoicing in the smoothness of the platinum on my skin. I had lost weight. It was worryingly loose.
All that glitters is not gold. This was never truer than this moment. The platinum glinted white. I held my hand up to the light and waved it this way and that, thrilled with my happy five-fingered hand and its special treasure of a ring to call its own. The diamond made prisms of light reflect on the ceiling, and dance around the room like tiny mirrors, in a kaleidoscope of colors. I rejoiced again at my ring finger that belonged to a hand of five digits, not six. The hand that my husband had kissed. He had to be in love with me, or why would he have spent so much? This Tiffany ring was worth a fortune.
Doubts about his loyalty melted away like butter on toast, or ice cream on a sunny day, drenching me with a renewed sweetened bliss. The man of my dreams bought me the ring of my dreams.
I lay back in the warmth of the water and focused on the view beyond. The ocean was kicking up white horses everywhere, and the sky was a crystal pink shot with bolts of silver. Infused with a sense of tranquility, I nodded off into a deep, REM sleep, flitting through the past.
Ice creams on a sunny day, holidays, the sun, the seaside and…
Tulum. We had arrived by private yacht. Our first vacation together, years ago, when Tulum was still a secret—sand as white as refined sugar, the sea a shimmering turquoise. I spotted the ancient Mayan ruins in the distance.
Juan was massaging sunscreen onto my shoulders then trailed his fingers into the nook of my neck. I shivered with desire. “Someone might see,” I said, embarrassed. Just one touch from him and my body gave itself away.
“I told the crew to take the day off, we’re all alone.” He turned me around to face him, and cupping my face with his large hands said, “I’m all yours, honey. This is the way it’s going to be from now on. Just you and me, no third parties. Nobody’s going to spoil our happiness, I promise.”
At the time I wondered what he was talking about. It was only later I understood exactly what he meant.
More memories swirled in my head. My dreams wandered back to Juan, before the accident.
Back to the bold, feminine note.
I am done with you, please stop trying to contact me I cannot give you what you want. Keep away from me.
Juan was having an affair. Of course I wanted to know with whom, but I also knew that if I found out for sure, I would be devastated. I needed to weigh up the pros and cons thoroughly before I tasted the apple. Because once I took a bite, the knowledge would become part of me, and I’d never be able to look back.