(this is for DianaRGary who asked if I would expand upon this drabble…) Drabble 16-Does my ring burn your finger Tell me, does my ring burn your finger? Does it cause you pain every time you and he are in each other’s arms? If you love him so much, why did you ever let me slip it on your finger? Why did you lead me on, when you really wanted to be with him? Do you take it off when you are with him so it doesn't hurt? Does my ring burn your finger like the love we shared that is gone down in flames? What was once a symbol of our love has turned into a ring of fire... Those words echoed in her head over and over as she ran through the darkened streets. He had ranted for what seemed like hours before he passed out in a drunken stupor. As soon as she had heard his snores, signaling he would not awaken until morning, she grabbed her shawl and left the house. She did not need to pay attention to where she was heading. She could find her way there blind; she’d followed the same route to her lover’s place so many times over the last year. All the windows were dark as she knocked at the door. Within seconds, she could hear him stumbling around inside, probably putting his trousers on to answer an unknown late night visitor’s knock. A look of surprise flashed over his face, quickly turning to concern when he saw who had come calling so late. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” he asked softly, drawing her into his embrace and kicking the door shut behind them. Crying, she nodded her head, unable to speak for the moment. She threw her arms around his neck and started to sob loudly as he lifted her in his arms and returned to his bedroom. He sat her down on the bed, removing her shawl and then lit the candle on the table next to the bed. Her hair was disheveled, coming out of its pins. There were tracks upon her cheeks from where numerous tears had fallen and her eyes were red rimmed from crying. “I need you to tell me what’s happened, Sweetheart,” he gently prodded, trying to find out what could cause her such grief. “He…he…hiccup…knows about us. I don’t know how he found out, but he knows.” Stiffening, he asked a little more gruffly than he had meant too, “He didn’t hurt you did he?” Laying a hand on his arm, as if to stop him from going after her husband, she cried, “No, of course not. He, he ranted on and on. He hates us both. I didn’t know what to say, so I just listened as he got madder and madder.” “Where is he right now?” “At home. He passed out. He’d been drinking before he confronted me and even more afterwards. He won’t awaken until late morning judging by how drunk he was,” she stated, wiping the drying tears from her cheeks. He caught her hand in his, the one where another’s ring gleamed in the candlelight. His finger gently caressed the gold band drawing her eyes to the tie that bound her to someone else. “I can’t do this any more,” she murmured as she tugged at the band, finally freeing it from her finger. Setting it on the table by the candle, she turned to him, her eyes searching his. “I can’t go on living this lie anymore, not when it’s hurting all of us. I don’t want to have only stolen moments with you anymore. I want you every waking moment…” she confessed. With a groan, he gathered her close, whispering, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s all I’ll ever need, you here by my side for the rest of our lives.” Standing, he undid his pants letting them fall to the floor. With a smoldering look at the woman on the bed, he leaned over and blew the candle out. Her hands reached out to draw him close, forgetting all about what had brought her to him in the first place. She marveled in his touch, letting her inhibitions go as he removed her clothing, allowing their bodies to mold together in an age-old dance born out of love. When the morning light shown through the window, she quietly slipped from his bed, dressed and grabbing the ring from the bedside table, she left the room. Upon arriving home, she found he was still sleeping, sitting at the kitchen table where he’d passed out the night before. She quietly moved about the house, gathering her belongings, putting them in a bag. Before she slipped out of the house once more, she left a note on the table next to him, where he would be sure to see it when he awoke. With one last glance at the man she had once loved and promised her life too, she softly closed the door behind her to find the man she did love, waiting outside for her, a smile lighting up his face as she rushed towards him. After a passionate kiss, he helped her upon a horse and then mounted his. Together they left the past behind as the ring that burned upon her finger sat on a sheet of paper with two scrawled words, “I’m sorry…” Email Lisa L. HOME