The Tortoise and His Sunrise | ✓

9. Ring

The last time I'd put on this ring was somewhere near the end of senior year in Fairwood Academy.

I gripped the tungsten metal ring harder between my thumb and index finger, staring at its simple band design with Nolan's full name engraved on the inside. After I stopped wearing it, I kept it in my small accessory box and hadn't really touched it since.

It matched with Nolan's, which had my name engraved on it. It was something he'd given to me right before winter break in junior year, promising to love me forever. It took weeks for the heady rush of elation that enveloped me after being surprised with it to wear off.

I hadn't expected anything like that from him since we had only been dating for about a year at that point, but he really caught me off-guard.

It was supposed to be a symbol of his eternal love for me, something he expressed in clear, heartfelt words without a hint of embarrassment in his voice or body language. I had responded with a similar expression of love, declaring my intention to be with him forever.

Looking back now, I wondered how much of it had been the teenage propensity to relinquish all rationality and pragmatism to whatever intense emotions that overwhelmed us, and how much of it had been our serious consideration of the future that lay ahead of us. How much consideration had he given it at that time? I knew I had just shoved all those concerns to the back of my mind, figuring that we'd cross the bridge when we got to it.

I paused.

Had Nolan ever even been affected by teenage hormones? Although he had remained physically unchanged over the last few years, did it necessarily mean that his emotional and mentally capacity hadn't developed as well?

After we got together, he'd never once refused to answer my questions about his condition, but I could tell that he didn't really like discussing the potential differences between him and a regular teenage guy.

As a result, I didn't really ask too much.

My gaze fell upon the ring again.

Over time, the novelty of wearing a promise ring faded. I stopped wearing it because I was too lazy to take it off in the shower, and the added hassle of ensuring I didn't lose it whenever I took it off contributed to my eventual decision to store it in a secure location.

I had thought about putting it on a chain and wearing it around my neck, but again, it no longer mattered that much to me at that point.

I was confident and secure in Nolan's feelings for me. Our matching rings were merely the physical representation of our commitment to each other. Whether we wore them or not had no bearing on our actual relationship and bond with each other.

Nolan accepted my reason for not wearing the ring easily, although he continued wearing his for several more weeks.

I stared desperately at what was supposed to be a promise of forever.

Three more years until we graduated. Three more years until I was 22 and had a boyfriend still physically stuck at 14 years old. He was supposed to be 23 in three more years. He technically was in the years lived, but there was just no way he could pass himself off as my age now.

Sixteen more years—probably even less than that—until I looked like some cougar preying on a poor, innocent boy who didn't know any better.

Was there really a forever for us?

I didn't even know if we had five years.

Why hadn't I thought more about this? Why had I been naïve enough to think that all the tomorrows wouldn't add up?