He laughed.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I look terrible.”
“You always look beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not.”
Then he reached into his pocket.
There was no ring.
Of course there wasn’t.
Thomas barely had enough money for lunch.
But he took my hand anyway.
“Margaret,” he said, “someday I’m going to buy you a diamond ring.”
I laughed.
“A real one?”
“A real one.”
“With a big diamond?”
“The biggest one I can afford.”
I smiled.
“And when is this someday?”
He looked at me with the confidence only seventeen-year-olds possess.
“Soon.”
We were young enough to believe life would wait for us.
It didn’t.
A few months later, my father lost his job.
My family moved three hours away.
There were no cell phones.
No social media.
No easy way to stay connected.
At first, Thomas wrote me letters.
I wrote back.
Then the letters became less frequent.
Then life became complicated.
I met another man.
His name was Robert.
He was kind.
Steady.
Good.
I married him.
Thomas eventually married a woman named Susan.
She was good to him.
He was good to her.
We built separate lives.
I had children.
He had children.
We paid mortgages.
