The Opossum Ring

I make up my mind after watching my mother in tears begging me to leave my fiance. I had never ever seen my mother cry like this before in my 22 years on this planet. He moved out of my house under my nose, but neglected to bring his things with him, so I make a plan to dump his belongings off and write a goodbye letter and block him. Cleanest break.

I haphazardly throw his things into boxes, cursing under my breath. Why did it have to be like this?

I stop and look at my left hand. I pull my engagement ring off of my finger.

I hold the little ring of pewter strangely shaped into an opossum. Its mouth is open, and the opossum looks like it is eternally screaming. Opossums are my favorite animal. My soon-to-be ex thought it was a great ring to propose to me with.

I am thinking to myself whether I want to keep it or not as I prepare to leave him. Something shaped like my favorite animal should stay with me, but what would I do with it?

I could never wear it again. I would have to keep it in a box hidden away somewhere. What if my future daughter found it?

I'd have to explain to her what it was and who it was from.

"Oh honey, that was a gift from the man who was almost your daddy? Why wasn't he your daddy? Oh, because he hurt mommy's feelings, and tried to kill your uncle."

My heart sinks at the other option. I know that if I leave this little ring with him, he will throw it in the garbage or something stupid. I know he would never give it to another girl.

The little forty dollar chunk of pewter would hold too many painful memories for me though. All the gaslighting and abuse manifested as a ring in the shape of an opossum.

I sit down to write my goodbye letter. This is the best way to break things off without him trying to manipulate me.

I scratch a quick note onto a piece of steno paper.

"I love you. You are the greatest light of my life. But love is not enough to make things work, and I'm seeing it now. I can't live my life like this anymore. I can't wait for things to get better. You've done things I cannot forgive. It's time to let this go. Do not contact me ever again."

I take the paper with me, and place as many of his things that will fit into my Volkswagen Beetle. I drive towards his apartment. I take off my ring before I drive off because I am so disgusted by the situation. The ring is tight, there are imprints in my finger from where the paws of the opossum dug into it. My finger is black from the pewter.

I arrive in his driveway, again agonizing over whether to keep the ring. It really is a neat little thing, and I stroke it when I am upset.

"But how many times did HE make you upset?" I ask myself.

I take a deep breath and set about getting his things out of my car. I try to think of a way to tuck the paper somewhere he will see it, but also in such a way that it will not blow away in the wind.

I look at the little opossum ring.

A tear slides down my cheek as I roll the paper and tuck it into the ring, and into a shoe that he left behind.

I take my phone, block his number, block him on every piece of social media I can think of, and turn airplane mode on. I drive off to work, tears streaming down my cheeks. I try to tell myself that this is for the best.

I arrive at work and try to wash the pewter discoloration from my fingers as much as I can, but to no avail.

It takes weeks for the imprint to go away and the discoloration to fade. Sometimes it feels as though the weight of the ring is still there on my finger. There are times I miss that little opossum ring.

To that little opossum ring, I'm sorry you met your end in a landfill.