Games

They lean over their cards, heads close, setting up the game. She takes longer, glancing too often at his hands, his face, his eyes… Guiltily, she begins the game with energy. Double solitaire, the game where two people win and lose alone, together. Although he says nothing, she thrills to see him play, giggling when he blocks her, blushing when he helps, preening when she triumphs. Her game is going well, she flips out cards with an intent half-smile. His game slows—but that’s normal. A card will be played, he’ll get “unstuck.” His game stops, he flips through his cards, same cards, again. She plays quicker, barely seeing her cards, hoping each one will be the one he needs. Not that one. Not this one. She tosses them out with worried eyes, frowning at her cards; she’s winning. She reaches out cards, he seems to recede. She bows her head, too. Tears and cards from her, from him, silence. His hands slow, his face down, eyes hidden. Same cards, flip through, again. She plays, still hoping each card will be the one that frees him, he sets down his cards. Desperate, she faces him, clutching her thin stack of cards, he looks away. He unfolds his legs, walks away. Done. Daniel is not playing anymore.

Ooh! Shiny!!!

The other day I craved a ring. A shiny one with diamonds. I was looking at the sea of wedding rings that seems to surround me daily and thought "I want one!" The funny thing though, was that I don't think I wanted it because I'm marriage hungry. Oh no, I am much more shallow than that. I wanted one because they're pretty, and I like pretty things. That's right, pretty, sparkley things. I think the craving is worse because it seems that everyone has one except me these days. So it's like the ultimate fashion accessory--classy, gorgeous, lasts the rest of your life, and I'm the only one without one. It's like being the only one without your ears pierced, or without a perfect black dress. Or being the last little girl in your primary class to graduate from tights to grown-up woman nylons.

I had to laugh when I realized this. I really am fine not married, and I'm not really that jealous of those shiny rocks. I had never thought that of all the things I might envy when all my friends got married (being able to plan their future, starting their own family, their own kitchen, someone to hold them when they cry, someone to talk to every night, etc), it would be the most superficial that would bug me on a daily basis. But I think there's good (or at least justfiable) reason for it.

I'm in classes with almost all girls, almost all married girls. I never see them with their husbands, so I don't really envy them their husbands that much. I never see them in their kitchens, where the only dirty dishes are their own and everything is where they left it, so I don't often envy that. But everyday, as I glance side to side in my classes I see ringed hands resting on desks. I glance front, I see ringed hands. I look at the teacher, ringed. I walk in to class, and there are two different conversations going on: in one, three girls getting married over Christmas are comparing wedding plans; in the other, two already married girls are discussing going to their in-laws houses for the holidays. All around, girls are talking with their ringed hands. My bare little hand feel almost conspicuously naked in the crowd of glittering adornments.

Oh well, this doesn't mean much, but it made me laugh and think, and that's enough to write about any day.