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One
A little black box sits in his outstretched hand.
The shape is so recognizable, my breath catches. It could be earrings, I think wildly. His smile is shy, hazel eyes shining with hope at the unspoken question between us. Adrenaline surges in my veins, keeping me at attention. My heart thumps so hard my ears fill with the sound of rushing blood until it’s all I can hear. Thump. Thump. Thump. When he opens the box, I let out a gasp.
Definitely not earrings.
The ring nestled inside is modest and delicate, the diamond elegantly set in a gold band surrounded by a cluster of smaller stones. My mouth opens as if to speak, but all that comes out is a muted noise from the back of my throat. The ring is stunning, but that’s hardly the most important aspect of this moment. His eyes stay trained on my face, analyzing for any clue he can. I hold out my hand for a closer look, and he deposits the box into it.
Dread settles in my stomach as I realize what this means, but I try not to show my emotions on my face. I’ve learned to become good at that when it comes to Ben Young.
“Well?” he asks, no longer able to contain himself. Then, the question that threatens to undo me completely—
“Do you think she’ll like it?”
The chatter of the restaurant dulls to a low register. We’re surrounded on all sides by the early lunch crowd, but I can’t hear a single sound. He means Alice Cho, his girlfriend of eight years and future recipient of this engagement ring. I don’t care how long they’ve been dating or what anyone else has to say about it, but twenty-seven is far too young to be thinking about marriage. But then again, anyone else would argue that I’m just bitter the man I’m pining over is legally binding himself to someone else until death do they part. And maybe I am, despite how close our friendship still is after all these years. I want him to be happy regardless of my feelings. Not that anyone aside from Angela, my other best friend, knows about these feelings.
I haven’t been close with Alice in years so I can’t say if the ring is to her taste, but the style is hardly what matters. It’s the love between them that does, and for all my years of pining, I’ve never been able to question that. I glance across the table at Ben, meeting his hopeful eyes. My mouth turns up into a smile I don’t feel, but it fools him anyway. Hiding your true feelings is easy when the person you’re hiding from has never really seen you to begin with.
“It’s perfect,” I tell him, because it is. The lasagna primavera I just scarfed down churns in my stomach. I swallow hard past a wave of nausea. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or acid reflux making me queasy, or maybe just the diamond staring up at me. Taunting. When I can no longer stand to look at the thing, I shut the tiny box with a loud snap and hastily hand it back to him. He’s too preoccupied to note any sign of agitation on my end.
“You really think so?” Ben asks, guarding the box close to his chest. A lock of light brown hair falls over his brow, making him look boyish and fragile. He glances down at the object his hands are cradling with a wary expression, like he’s looking down at his heart instead. And I suppose, to him, he is. There are enough metaphors out there to make the two synonymous.
“Are you kidding?” I ask with forced cheer, but it comes out so smooth you’d never know that internally I’m quaking. He visibly brightens at my tone. “She’d be a fool to say no.”
His tense shoulders deflate immediately, the edges of his mouth turning up as he returns my fake smile with one that is undeniably real. He flashes a full row of straight, shiny white teeth, and the sight makes me smile brighter. A hint of real amid the plaster because his happiness is ultimately what I want most for him. Even if it’s at the expense of mine.
“You really think so, Marcela?” he asks.
“She’s going to love it,” I say with as much assurance as I can muster. If I ever had another chance with Ben, that time is long gone, and has been for a while. Years, probably, if I’m being honest. Still, I’m ashamed to admit just how much time I’ve spent holding out hope that one day he’ll see that he was an idiot to ever say we were better off as just friends. God, it should feel like a lifetime ago, but our freshman year at the University of Texas at San Antonio still feels like just yesterday.
Wishful thinking.
Now, with the engagement ring between us, I’m struck by just how long it’s been. The years wear on me all at once, a wave of exhaustion crashing over me.
“Stop worrying,” I tell him, reforming my supportive-friend facade. “When are you gonna pop the question?”
“I was thinking this weekend. I have a reservation at Whiskey Cake on Friday night. I’m just not sure if I should ask during dinner or wait until after when we’re alone.”
“Whatever you choose, just please, for the love of God, don’t put it in her wineglass.” He laughs, probably thinking of the way she’d downed shots throughout college. We all went pretty hard back then, but Alice could drink us all to shame. The girl can chug a full keg of beer without thinking twice. “Otherwise, y’all will be celebrating the rest of the night in the emergency room.”
“You might have a point.” He smiles, his eyes lighting up with unbridled happiness. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”
You and me both.
“Well, believe it!” I exclaim with feigned enthusiasm. “And tell me all about it on Monday. I wanna hear every detail.”
I most certainly do not, but what else can I possibly say? The truth I haven’t once dared to utter out loud? Doubtful. We spend the rest of lunch chatting about all possible outcomes, how his parents will respond to the news when (he says “if,” but I already know it’s a forgone conclusion) she says yes, until the check arrives and we part ways in the parking lot.
Once I’m safely tucked away in my car, I allow the emotions I’ve been holding off to finally crash over me. I had no idea until today what Ben’s been planning. That he and Alice have talked about building a more permanent life together. Tears sting my eyes, but I’m too stubborn to let them fall. So stupid.
This shouldn’t have been a surprise to me. They’ve been together since they were nineteen. Nearly a decade. It’d be weird if marriage wasn’t on their minds. But even still, this, an honest-to-God engagement ring, is a gut punch I never saw coming.
I’ve known for a while now that I have to get over this silly crush, but today was a wake-up call. If Ben and I were ever going to happen for real, it would’ve happened already. Now I can move on. After a pumpkin empanada or six.
Friday night, I arrive back at my apartment from work with my second box of pan dulce this week to drown my feelings in. Stress-eating is my time-honored tradition, and pumpkin empanadas are my kryptonite. Consequence of having a Mexican mother with an all-powerful sweet-tooth gene. I’ll feel guilty in the morning but will do nothing about it until Sunday, when my best friend, Angela Gutierrez, comes over for our weekly morning walk on the trail outside my building. It’s the only exercise we get since neither of us can afford gym memberships with our salaries. Not that I would ever step foot inside a gym willingly.
My two-bedroom apartment is tiny, but it’s all I need. A plush, heather-gray couch is pushed in the corner of the living room facing a small black TV stand, where my twenty-inch smart TV resides. I’m not even sure my apartment comes with cable, but there’s no need for it when a good chunk of my paycheck is divided among three different streaming sites. The living room and kitchen are separated by this weird half wall that transitions into the dining bar past the couch. I keep most of my library books along the half wall, as well as on the antique entrance table by the front door. If I keep them with the books I already own, they’ll never get returned and I’ll be the first librarian to ever get their library card permanently confiscated.
