She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not
By: Paroma Sen
Tags: Love, Fiction, Mothers, Relationships, Fiction Friday

I sat in my room, peeling apart the red petals. She loves me, she loves me not. An old game we played as little girls. The velvety smoothness of the rose reminded me of the softness of my mom’s skin.

I only paid half my attention. The other part of my attention was peeling apart a new idea, an idea for one last incident, one last big bang. It would be so big that things would change forever.

It might cost us more tears, but this time her tears would mingle with mine, and she would wipe it all away. She would finally see the pain in my heart, mirrored through the pain in hers. Finally, all debts would be repaid. Finally, all would be equal, all unfairness razed to the ground, forgotten, forgiven, and buried.

So, I decided to steal a ring for her. An emerald ring, cast in gold, her favorite. Every time we walked past the store on Main Street, she would stop to admire the ring, dropping hints to dad, and chatting with the woman that owned the store. They were on friendly terms, and the woman knew me as my mom’s daughter. She would let me in to the store. I was sure of that.

My plan was to look for and buy a plain garnet ring. The decoy. Keep the woman engaged in the transaction and steal the emerald ring while she wasn’t looking.

I chose a busy time of the week to go into the store. There were three families shopping for jewelry in the small store, and the staff were all occupied helping them. Seeing a known face, the owner came up to me with a smile, and I asked to see the rings. The ring drawer was to the left of a family shopping for bracelets, and a lively discussion was going on about which ones to pick for a family wedding.

All the chairs were occupied. The owner gestured to a chair in the back and I offered to bring it back and seat myself. After all, I was her friend’s daughter, known and trusted. Luckily, my slight frame was overshadowed by the bulky elbow of the man sitting next to me, effectively blocking me from view of almost the whole store.

The owner opened the ring drawer and I pointed at the decoy ring. She pulled out the velvet tray and lowered it to me. Just then a couple walked in through the doors, and the owner got busy greeting them and finding more chairs. I noticed the emerald ring was in a tray just below, and the owner had left the drawer key dangling in the keyhole. I looked up at the cameras. There were only two. Cheapskates, I thought, compromising on security like that. One was pointed at the door, well away from me. The other was meant to cover the rest of the store, but that would only work well if it had a wide-angle lens. I was willing to bet the owner had not put in the additional investment to cover a camera of that kind of quality. I was in a corner. Without a wide-angle lens, there was no way the camera would catch me.

I took a quick look around. It was now or never. I reached out with my left hand, pulled the drawer open and picked up the emerald ring without lifting the tray. Then I looked around one more time. Everyone was still engaged, the family next to me still loudly debating the bracelets, the owner still looking for chairs, the couple admiring a necklace, and the other families trying to negotiate with the staff. Nobody was looking at me. I shut the drawer noiselessly, putting the ring in my jeans pocket. Picking up the garnet decoy, I walked up to the owner and asked to buy it. Her compliment on my purchase, and the actual transaction with the cashier barely registered on me. I was out the door quickly.

I heard mom’s voice calling out to me later that evening. She’d seen the ring and the Happy Birthday note I left on her vanity. She was very pleased; she looked so beautiful when she was happy, like a golden angel smiling at me.

The look on her face was matchless, a unique blend of pride and protectiveness that I had rarely seen. She couldn’t stop telling my dad how happy I had made her that day. We shared an evening of family togetherness, watching TV, cracking jokes, and eating samosas. I sat between mom and dad.

Everything had been totally worth it. Now every time my mom would look at her hand, she would see the ring and remember how much she loved me. She couldn’t stop looking at it and admiring the beautiful green stone. She was talking about buying a green sari to go with the ring. I breathed out deeply and held on to her elbow, my nose pressed up against her arm.