Shoulder the weight of a diamond

“Once upon a time..”

“Don’t start it that way!”

“Why not?”

“You’re being facetious Al. I hate it.”

“Fine. Yesterday.. is that better?”

“Much.”

“Alright, but like, it doesn’t have the same drama. The same level of intrigue.”

“We’ll live.”

“Now who’s being facetious, Carrie?

“No, that was sarcasm. There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Do you really care?”

“No, not really. So anyways, yesterday I was driving along—“

“Wow what an unusual activity for a Monday!”

“Well, I was telling it in a more interesting way, but you shut me down.”

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

“Of course. How could I have forgotten? May I continue?”

“By all means.”

“So, I was driving along Route 9, when all of a sudden my tire blew out!”

“Don’t tell me, you didn’t have a spare so you had to wait until some cute girl came along to rescue you.”

“No, because that’s how you get murdered.”

“Murdered? By a cute girl?”

“Maybe! But also by the ten serial killers who are bound to pass by before you even get a chance of seeing a cute girl who is not a serial killer.”

“I appreciate that you didn’t assume that us cute girls can’t be serial killers”

“Are you including me in that statement Carrie? Never mind. I don’t even want to go there. Besides, I have a survival kit in my car, you really think I don’t have a spare and a jack?”

“Fair point. Ha, I forgot about your zombie apocalypse phase.”

“Okay, there are many potential types of apocalypses, and limiting it to just the zombie variety is a classic oversimplification..” 

“Well, excuse me. I didn’t mean to stereotype you.” 

“Thank you. I accept your halfhearted and sarcastic apology.” 

“I mean sure. You’re welcome, I guess?”

“I am welcome, thanks. So anyways, I was on the side of the road, fixing my tire all by myself.” 

“I’m so riveted by this story Al. It absolutely does not seem completely ordinary and mundane.”

“Will you stop with the sarcasm and just let me tell my story!”

“Asking me to stop with the sarcasm would be like asking Shakespeare to stop writing plays. In other words, crazy, impossible, and wayyy too late. But go ahead.”

“Sure. Okay. Well, I’m on the ground setting up the jack when I notice something shiny.”

“Come on, Al, not another freaking coin discovery story. You’re like an overdramatic crow, I swear.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. It means my four grueling years in highschool drama amounted to something.”

“Well, something, that’s for sure.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to—nevermind. So I go to investigate, driven by my natural curiosity.”

“Of course.” 

“Yes, naturally. And lo and behold—“

“Lo and behold? Really??”

“Lo and behold, what do I find but a genuine diamond ring.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Would I ever kid with you, Care? Would I play your emotions like that?”

“Oh absolutely.”

“Good. I’m glad you know me well. So there’s this beautiful, diamond, engagement ring just sitting there on the shoulder.”

“Shoulder.. I always wonder why they call it that. Does that mean we drive on the chest of the road? If so, I gotta respect her curves.”

“Can you stay focused for like, one second?”

“Oh definitely. Especially if there’s a diamond involved. Who even leaves a diamond by the side of the road though. Unless… was it super ugly? Was it emerald-cut??

“Um.. I’m not really sure… about any of that. Oh wait, no. It wasn't emerald-cut. I know that much. But don’t ask me any more questions about the ring!”

“Okay, but that’s pretty limiting Alex, I mean, so far it’s really the only thing remotely cool about your story.”

“Limiting your questions wouldn’t be such a bad thing, Care. Besides, it’s the whole point of the story, I just haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Well by all means, do go on!”

“So I do the natural thing, of course, and I go to pick it up. And well, I do. I mean uh, picking it up wasn’t the hard part or anything.”

“I didn’t figure… It can’t be that heavy, no matter how many carats it is. And, this isn’t like, a Percy Jackson world where the diamond might be some summoned underworld treasure that will curse you forever.”

“Right, so I’m holding it, and I start to wonder, like you did, and like any rational person would. I wonder, ‘Why is this diamond ring here?’ And, because I’m a realist, the obvious answer soon presented itself to me on a perfect gold platter.”

“You’re not a realist. And the expression is silver platter, idiot.”

“Gold is more expensive and more dramatic. Plays with the audience’s minds, you see. Forces them to stop and think. And you’re right, I’m not a realist. But you’re a realist, and I’ve spent enough time around you to hear your shrill little voice in my head sometimes.”

“My voice is not shrill, Al!”

“Uh-huh, whatever. So, Ms. Realist, what’s the answer?”

“What?”

“I’m asking you, Carrie, what the answer is? Why was the diamond left by the side of the road.”

“That sounds like the beginning to some stupid joke..”

“It’s not.”

“I know, I was making a stupid—nevermind.”

“So?”

“So? It was probably a break-up. Classic. Girl throws ring at guy, misses, guy is either too dumb or too rich to not go retreive it.”

“Exactly! But come on, Care, do we really have to assume the couple is hetersexual? Are we stooping so low so as to feed the fire of such base stereotypes?”

“No. I’m not assuming they’re heterosexual. I know they’re heterosexual. A girl would have picked up the ring. Gays are resourceful.”

“You know, I’d like to argue with you, but I really can’t, considering I did pick up the ring.”

“See? Wait, you picked up the ring! Al! Why? What if someone was going to come back for that!”

“I thought we just agreed that wasn’t likely. Besides, finder’s keepers. And in order to answer your beautifully phrased question of ‘why?,’ I must first ask you to imagine my reaction, as the person I am.”

“What, an optimist? Oh god. You’re a hopeless romantic. You believe in fate and all that bullshit. Shit Alex, don’t tell me you proposed to some poor helpless girlfriend of yours?”

“No! Mostly because I don’t have a girlfriend right now! But you hit the mark with your talk of fate. I thought, what is this ring here to get me to do? And the obvious answer is—”

“Propose.”

“Exactly. But, as aforementioned, I don’t have a girlfriend to whom to propose.”

“That can’t be proper grammar.”

“I’m not sure. But it sounds cool, doesn’t it?”

“No, not really. You never do.”

“So then I started to think—hey!! I started to think, well, what is proposing, but acting on feelings you’ve had for a long time.”

“I mean, that seems like a weird oversimplification, but sure.”

“Well..”

“Wait—no! Al, we’ve talked about this. Don’t even go there.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go there?”

“No, stop. Get up. Hands away from your pockets.”

“But Carrie?”

“What?”

“It’s pear-cut. See, it looks like a pear.”

“Damnit Al, you know I love pears. How can I resist?”

“Ya simply can’t, my darling. The charm is just too great. I asked the jeweler about the ring! I learned way more about diamonds than I ever needed to know.”

“Seriously though Alex, why couldn’t you have just sold it?”

“Well… well, because gays are resourceful.”

“Touché.”