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by Ralph-Michael Chiaia She always expected an engagement ring. She didn’t expect him to drop down to one knee and produce it from deep inside his pocket. Instead she thought it would be hiding somewhere. Half-expected. In his apartment, she searched every candy wrapper, examined every empty box, every sock and shoe, even checked his drawers when he turned his back. Once she took all the onions off her fast food burger and held them to the light. They had a ring-like quality. She felt close. “What the hell are you doing?” She smiled wide. “I though there might be something special here.” “Like what?” He tossed her a little packet of ketchup. She pushed the packet back towards him. “You know.” She smiled. “There’s no ring. Get off my back.” She cried. The next day he brought an apology letter. She searched the empty envelope. Things went on like this for months until her roommate swallowed a bottle of sedatives. On her way to the funeral she saw clearly through the raindrops that her moment was near. Today was the day that would heal her wounds. She heard the divination in the flange of the tires in the rain. He was waiting for her by the door to the funeral home, dressed in a suit. He escorted her inside. There was a casket between two towers of flowers. People spoke softly, choked up by tragedy. The body was dressed like it was enjoying a first kiss at a prom. The eyes were closed and the hands were neatly placed one on top of another. He escorted her through a crowd of family standing near the first row of seats and to the casket. He held her by the hand. Yet when she eyed a jewel she had never noticed before, on the long, slender finger of her roommate’s corpse, fourteen carat gold, with veins of pure platinum and a circular diamond, she threw his hand out of her own, ran to the side of the coffin, yanked the ring off, along with the dead finger, and blurted, “I will! I will!” About the Author: Ralph-Michael Chiaia--aka RMC, aka Parliament/Ralphadelic, aka the Scruff Daddy, then changed to the In the Buff Daddy (recently changed to Pea Diddy, then Brie Diddy), with his sidekick the Notorious P.O.P.E live on MTV. That's enough, back to the spiel--is a surrealist and realist writer. He has been compared to Italo Calvino, Julio Cortazar, the Yeti, and The Notorious BIG. Check him at his blog: http://rmchiaia.typepad.com or at http://litchaos.com/rmc.html where he is an editor. Email: rmchiaia@yahoo.com |
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