The Ring Hernán Contreras "I want the ring," Gertrude said, in a whisper. "Mother said she wanted to end the curse and be buried with it," Raul replied also in a whisper. They really didn't need to whisper. They were the only ones there. "I want the ring. I took care of her. It belongs to me." "That big, ugly thing? It should be buried." "I want it. It has passed from mother to daughter for generations and now it's my turn." "It's cursed. Mother became a recluse and sickly after she got the ring. She never left the house these past thirty years. You know that. After Grandma died, Mother bought this isolated mansion and shut herself in. We hardly got to see her." "You hardly got to see her. I took care of her, remember. Besides that was her fault. It won't happen to me." "Take it, if you want it."
"It won't come off her finger. It's stuck." "Did you try soap?" "Yes. It's stuck, I tell you." Raul approached the open casket. His eyes were riveted on the ring his sister coveted and his mother had always worn, not on her ring finger, but on her middle finger. It wasn't a delicate, beautiful piece of jewelry, but a massive, masculine thing--a large ruby set in the open mouth of a golden snake and held in place with platinum fangs; sapphires formed the eyes and the coiled body that seemed to writhe, formed the loop of the ring. He reached in and held his mother's hand. It felt cold. He knew the body should be at room temperature, but it seemed colder than that, perhaps it was because you expect a hand to be warm. Maybe it was just because his mother was so cold to begin with. He could see that the knuckle was bruised and he glanced at his sister, who had joined him at the casket. She remained indifferent and he wondered who was colder. He pulled on the ring. It didn't budge. It wasn't just the knuckle that blocked the ring,-- it didn't even rotate on the finger. It was as if it had been grafted into the skin. "It's stuck. It won't come out." Gertrude took out a pair of rusty wire cutters and placed it in Raul's hand. 2
"I'm not going to do that." He pushed the wire cutters back to his sister. "Do it yourself." "I don't have the strength--i already tried." "Well, forget it. It isn't worth it. It doesn't even have good sentimental value." "You don't know. Do you?" "Know what?" "As a stock broker, didn't find it strange to you that a recluse, like Mother, always knew what stocks to invest in? Do you think it was just luck?" Now, that he thought about it, it was uncanny. He had thought it strange, at first. In fact, he had tried to talk his mother out of some investments in the beginning, but she insisted and she was always right. Later he just made the transactions without question. In placing orders, she always used the stock abreviations for the company often not even knowing the name of the company. "She was clarivoyant," he said, weakly. 3
"Of course she was clarivoyant. And so was her mother and the mother of her mother," Gertrude said, impatiently. "Didn't you pay attention. Were you totally unaware of your surroundings. They were clarivoyant because of the ring." "That's nonsense. Of course I had heard of those rumors, and she encouraged them, but rejected them when I was twelve. You don't believe that, do you? Gertrude, look at our mother," Raul pointed to the casket, "in her favorite, faded violet dress--her wedding dress--no less--surrounded with violets, only violets, because that's what she wanted. And she will be buried at midnight as she requested and it also happens to be Halloween, I don't know how she arranged that, but it must be obvious--our Mother was nuts! Besides, if it's true, I may want it." "It's mine. I worked for it. It probably won't work on you. It has always been passed on mother to daughter." "If that's so, why is it so big? It looks like a man's ring to me. We won't know unless I try it. I think I will." Raul grabbed the wire cutters out of Gertrude hand. "It's mine. You can have everything else--the cash, the stocks--everything, but the ring is mine," she hissed. Raul reached in and grabbed his mother's cold hand. Spreading the fingers apart with is left hand, he placed the open blades of the wire cutter at the base of the ring 4
finger, feeling that would be the weak point rather than at the knuckle. He squeezed and felt the bone crack, but the blades were dull and did not cut cleanly. He twisted and pulled but the finger didn't give. "We need better cutters!" "You want me to go to the store and get some?! Hurry up before somebody comes in." "Who? Who is going to come? We weren't exactly beloved neighbors." Raul continued pulling and twisting, finally yanking the finger off. The finger slipped of the edge of the blade and fell into the crease of the coffin. Immediately, both Gertrude and Raul, plunged their hands into the coffin and searched frantically for the finger. Raul found it and pulled it out. Gertrude grabbed Raul's wrist. He pulled freed and walked away. The ring was still attached. He pulled at it and finally freed the ring, but it was harder than he had expected. Clutching the ring with his right hand, he returned to the coffin. He viewed his mother with new eyes, feeling strangely detached and confident, master of his own change. Was it the ring? He gently folded his mother's arm positioning it in a praying position. He placed the finger in the gap and then covered the wounded hand with the corsage. Turning toward his sister Raul opened his hand. The ring lay in his palm like a lump of anger. Slowly and deliberately he picked it up and extended his hand as if he 5
were handing the ring to this sister. She made a grab for it, but he quickly closed his hand and put it behind his back. He enjoyed the tease. "You can have everything--money, stocks, property--for the ring." "Everything?" He knew the value of his Mother's estate. It was a fortune. The ring business is probably nonsense. No, not probably, it is nonsense. "Even the house?" "You never liked the house. You always said it was dismal and dreary and that's why you didn't like to visit." It was a mansion, but he didn't like the house. It was dreary, dismal, isolated and in disrepair. His mother certainly had the means to maintain the house, but she didn't like having anyone around. But that didn't matter, it was the the acreage around the house that he wanted. In a few years, the place won't be isolated and the property would be worth millions. "I want the house." "But this is where I've lived since Mother got the house over thirty years ago." "The house or no deal." "Okay everything--just give me the ring." 6
"We have a deal. I'll draw up the papers Monday and when you sign, I'll give you the ring." "Give me the ring now--i'll sign." "No," Raul said, firmly. "You sign, then you get the ring." He quickly turned around and walked away. "Okay," Gertrude followed. "Tomorrow morning." "Monday, in the afternoon, Gertrude." Raul stopped, looked at his sister and, condensendingly, added, "The papers won't be ready until the afternoon. Everything--right?" "Yes, everything, but promise me not to put the ring on." "I'm going upstairs to the master bedroom," Raul stressed the word master, "to rest. I'll come down at eleven for our little charade and plant mother in the backyard." He'll probably have to move her later, he thought, when the property was developed, but maybe not. "Mother is not yet cold in the grave and you're moving into her room?" 7
"She may not be in her grave, sister, but she is cold." "You have to promise not to put the ring on." Raul simply shook his head and started walking up the stairs. Gertrude grabbed his, "Promise me not to put the ring on." "Okay, okay. I promise." The moon slid to its zenith, the shadows shriveling to the feet of all that cast them and as Raul reached the gate of the estate he was treading in a pool of his own midnight. A funeral at midnight on Halloween and a full moon, Raul thought, I don't know how you arranged all that, but I must hand it to you Mother you really know how to put on a show. But that was all it was -- show. 8