The Brothers

“It’s mine,” Pete said as he reached for the ring.  

“There it is!” James said, as he extended his left hand for the ring.

“Finally!” Mark said, obviously relieved, as he lunged for the jewelry box.

All three brothers spoke at the same time, descending on the ring in the burgundy-colored velvet jewelry box.

All three brothers, equally shocked at the claims of the others.

All three brothers, ready to throw punches, if it meant that the ring would be theirs.

Testosterone filled the room, which moments before, had been full of laughter over their game of spades.

Lucy, their only sister, had interrupted the game with the jewelry box she had pulled out of mom’s closet.

Pete, who just so happened to be the closest to the ring, snatched it and held it with total ownership.  

“Dad promised me this ring the night before he died.” He explained, like it was the most obvious, well-known piece of family history ever.  His tone bordered on condescension.

“Dad promised me that ring the day Jenny and I got married,” James said with a deep air of sentimentality, the panic he felt causing his voice to rise an octave.

“Dad promised me that ring the day I graduated high school,” piped up the youngest brother, Mark, his blue eyes coming to life with the competition he knew was imminent.  He was used to fighting for what he wanted, and fight he would, until that ring was on his finger.  After all, he was the one who had Dad’s initials.

Lucy breathed deeply, her yoga teacher’s voice echoing in her ears.  Breathe, hold for seven seconds, and exhale…nothing is worth your stress and anxiety….yeah right.  Her three brothers, fighting like schoolboys over the precious ring, her mother, unconscious, dying any day, lying in the bed in the next room.  She threw breathing out the window.  She’d breathe later.  For now, she’d need every breath to solve this dilemma.

“Seriously, you guys.  Mom is dying, Dad has been gone for ten years, and you’re fighting over a ring.  A ring.  Grow a set of balls and let someone else have it.  It’s not as if your manhood depends on wearing that ring.”

But it did.  To these men.  They had watched Dad’s hands tie hundreds of lures, watched him change the oil for the umpteenth time, watched him wrap his hands around mom’s waist, saw him sign the bill at restaurants, all eyeing his strong fingers and the faithful way he wore his wedding ring.

It wasn’t just any wedding band.  It had been engraved with both his initials and Mom’s, and had been passed down to him from his father.  It wasn’t just any old ring.  To them, it represented everything that made Dad, well, Dad.  It was his manhood, his handiness around the house, the way he provided for the family through hard work, his strong hands that could do anything, his love for mom.

“I know Dad, and how much he was a man of his word.  He wouldn’t have promised a ring to all three of you.  No way in hell.” Lucy’s hands were on her hips.  She had to find a way to figure out who was telling the real story, if any of them were.  Would Dad have even promised his ring to one of them?  And if he had, did Mom know about it? Why hadn’t she dealt with it before she got too sick to even speak?

“We all know the family heirloom goes to the firstborn son.  Sorry, you guys.  It’s mine by birthright.”  Pete held up the ring to make his case, before slipping it onto his finger.  That firstborn, arrogant entitlement oozed out of him.

Mark, the only one with blue eyes, the baby of the family, who everyone resented because it was commonly believed that he was mom’s favorite, spoke up.

“Peter, it doesn’t matter when you were born.  We all loved dad and carry the family name.  You don’t even have children yet, and I have two sons.  Who will you pass it to when you die?  Huh?  I’ll keep it in the family.  Give it over.” Mark held out his hand.

Pete fumed at the use of his full name.  He’d been Pete since Mrs. Hemlock, his favorite teacher, had affectionately nicknamed him in the third grade.  Mark had also struck Pete below the belt.  Pete and his wife had been trying to have children for years and had been unable to conceive.  It was a deep source of pain for Pete, but mostly for his wife.  He couldn’t believe Mark had brought it up and used it against him, flaunting his two sons.  It was ON.

“It is MINE by birthright.” Pete’s adrenaline was raging and he had taken his hat off, a sign that he was angry.  He always wore a black NY Yankees baseball cap.  Rain or shine, that hat was on his head.  It was more a part of him than his hair.  In fact, his closest friends often forgot what his hair was even like, he was never seen without that hat.  If it came off, things were getting serious.

“Furthermore,” Pete continued, “I’ve always been Dad’s favorite.  It’s why he promised me the ring on his deathbed.  On his deathbed.”  Numerous fishing trips flashed through his eyes, watching that ring glint in the sunlight while Dad tied knots.  He had admired it his whole life.  It was the main thing that characterized Dad.  His ring and his glasses.  Oh the glasses.  They were readers, and Dad used to wear them only at night, while he read his World War 2 books on the couch.  He never could get enough of World War 2 history.  That, Pete never understood.  Pete preferred modern fiction, not learning about the dysfunction of the past.

All of this time, the middle son sat silently, observing, calculating.  It was what he had done his whole life.  Watch the entitled, brilliant older son and the coddled baby of the family fight for their manhood.  He’d watch and wait and then one of two things would happen.  He’d be the only one who stayed out of the fight, and so his mom would favor him because he was the only one not exasperating her, or he would make peace between the older two.  It all depended upon the circumstances.  If the stakes were high and they were fighting over a girl, for example, he would make up some story about what a whore she was, just to save one of them from the humiliation of rejection when she chose the other brother.  But if they were fighting over some video game or toy (in their younger years), he would let them escalate to the point that mom had to get involved, and she would inevitably place the coveted thing right into his hands.  Mission accomplished.  Today, he was biding his time, waiting for his moment to strike.

By this time, Mark had tears in his eyes.  “Pete, you know how much I loved him.  He died when I had just finished college.  He never even got to come to my wedding, see who I became.  That ring would mean the world to me.  Please, Pete.”

Pete wasn’t softened by the tears.  He’d seen enough of Mark’s sentimental tears to last two lifetimes.

“Sorry, man.  I’m keeping it.  You got dad’s glasses.”

“You can have the damn glasses,” Mark cried, “I feel like that ring is like a piece of dad.” 

“You guys, please.  You two can’t seem to decide.  It seems like it would solve the whole problem to just let James have it.  Plus, he hasn’t demanded it.  He deserves to have it.”  Lucy finally interjected her two cents, a clear reflection of her mother’s logical judgment.

“The apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” James thought to himself, as Lucy spoke, relieved that she’d chosen to stand up for him.  As far as he was concerned, he was the obvious owner of the ring.  He’d been waiting to wear that ring for as long as he could remember.  Additionally, he was the one who had taken over dad’s construction business, not because dad had chosen him, but because he was the one who had loved building since the day he could snap two legos together.  The other two had chosen white collar careers, Mark accounting and Pete was managing an MLB team, steeped in celebrity and success. He was the most like Dad, he should wear that ring.

“Agreed, Luce,” James said, “you two can’t seem to figure it out.  I’ll take it and settle the score.”

“What are you talking about?!” Pete was almost yelling now. “You run the whole company.  No way are you wearing dad’s ring while you do it.”

“I can’t take any more quarreling,” Lucy was unable to hold back her tears any longer.  ”Mom is in there dying and you three are arguing over a ring.  Can anyone be as much of a man as Dad was and give up the ring for the sake of your brother?”  Lucy was starting to wonder whether mom had done this on purpose, left the issue of the ring for them to sort out for themselves so she didn’t have the horrible job of choosing one of her sons over the other two.  Maybe this whole thing had been premeditated to force her children to come together and settle an argument by themselves for once.

“What are you talking about, you son of a–” James raged.

Pete interrupted him, “You got the company.  I had to work my way to the top of the major league baseball ladder.”

“You just don’t like getting your hands dirty,” James yelled.  

Lucy wished she could go back in time and find out who Dad really promised the ring to. 

It was at this moment that a knock on the door sounded.  Everyone froze, somewhat thankful for a brief reprieve from the arguing and grappling for the ring.  Everyone was angry, but Pete was especially seething with rage, which, anyone who knew Pete would recognize as undealt-with pain.  He had never taken the time to grieve his dad, but had instead thrown himself into his career, which had become successful too quickly for even him to keep up with.  Add the grief of infertility to his dormant grief for his dad, and he was a land mine of emotion, just waiting to be triggered, which the fight for the ring had evidently done.

James, on the other hand, had continued to grieve his father, working through the waves of grief with a therapist.  He was angry, but his anger was more with himself, for all of the ways he had lost himself while he fought for his brothers over the years, unrecognized by them.  He was currently working on standing up for himself and having a voice, as his therapist had told him.  Fighting for the ring was just as much about working on having a voice as it was about the sentimental value of wearing dad’s ring and passing it on to his sons.

And Mark, angry because he was already a ball of emotion, which was just the way he was wired.  He was a deep feeler, and had always connected with dad in a profound way.  Dad had been his hero, everything he aspired to be; steady, strong, and powerful.  He was now in the trenches of grief over losing mom at any moment and the ring was just as much hers as it was Dad’s.  To him, it was about their marriage, and all that he was was a result of their relationship and faithfulness to each other.  He would wear that ring every day and think of Dad’s love for Mom.  There was no way he was letting either of his brothers walk off with it.

It was into this mess that Uncle Denny knowingly stepped.  Lucy had texted him an SOS text in a moment of sheer panic, when she knew there would be no solving this dilemma, other than murder.  He walked into the house after no one could bother to stand up and open the door for him, they were all too stunned by the interruption of the knock.

Uncle Denny was Dad’s only living relative, and they had had a complicated relationship.  Uncle Denny was masculinity incarnate, and had not a shred of feminine energy, gentleness, or tact.  Lucy had called him because he was the only human she knew who her brothers were actually intimidated by.  Uncle Denny was rough, gruff, and beyond judicial.  He had spent 30 years working for the local police force and had worked his way up to Assistant Chief before retiring due to a back injury.  He could sniff out a liar from 30 feet away and was an expert at reading facial cues.  And although he would never admit it outloud, he had loved their father, despite the complexity of differences.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked, “Your mom is dying and you three still can’t get along?  Are you ever going to grow up?”

He knew where to strike.  Their pride.  He had an on and off relationship with the brothers since childhood.  Their dad had wanted them to be close to their uncle, but because he had never married and had children (hence the lack of gentleness and ability to self-sacrifice), he had never been close to the boys.  Quite frankly, they had always been  afraid of him.  It wasn’t just his demeanor, it was his appearance.  He had started balding at a young age, so always shaved his head.  He was tall in stature, and quite muscular, gigantic to a young boy.  He had always towered over them, and they never wanted to mess with him, especially with his firearm always hanging at his side when he was in uniform.  Now, at 6’5’’, Pete was the only brother who stood eye to eye with Uncle Denny.  But, truth be told, that boyish fear was still in him.

“It’s Dad’s ring,” Lucy was the one brave enough to speak, “we found it in Mom’s jewelry box and they all say Dad promised it to them at some point.”

“It was the day I graduated–” Mark started, but was quickly interrupted by Pete.

“The night before he died,” Pete snarled, “he told me it would be mine someday.”

“Right before I married Jenny,” James piped up, “dad promised me his ring.”

“Two of you bastards are lying,” Uncle Denny said, “and you need to say you’re sorry.”

Lucy was shocked.  She didn’t think sorry had ever come out of Uncle Denny’s mouth before.  She knew he wasn’t sorry about anything and didn’t know he valued apologies.  Without a wife and kids, she wondered if he had ever even needed to say “I’m sorry.”

Pete crossed his arms, put his hat back on, and seethed.

Mark swiped at another tear threatening and put his head between his hands.

And James stood and started pacing at this point.

“Give me the ring.” Uncle Denny’s commander-style voice took up whatever space he was in and left no room for any other voice.  There was no persuading Uncle Denny, and this was precisely why he and Dad had struggled to have a relationship.  Dad was open and reasonable, Uncle Denny was set in stone, and it was his way, or no way.

Pete felt his pride slipping away as he reluctantly took the ring off and placed it in Uncle Denny’s hand. 

“You, sit.” Uncle Denny ordered James, who lowered himself back into the armchair he had been sitting in before he started pacing.

Lucy knew she had made the right call by texting him.  She didn’t know anyone else who could command respect like Uncle Denny.  He was also the only person, other than Mom, who understood the value of the ring.

“I will sell this ring tomorrow and split the profit between the four of you,” he stated with the utmost finality, “unless two of you admit to lying, in which case the ring goes to the son who was actually promised it.”

Lucy looked at her three brothers, all equally in the deepest of pain, in such a vulnerable moment, and waited.  She was surprised as one of her brothers stood, and bravely said, “That ring is worth too much to be sold, Uncle Denny, and you know it.  Give it to one of them,” as he headed toward the front door, wanting to get as far from his brothers as possible.

“Stop,” Uncle Denny commanded, and faced the two remaining brothers, “that is who was promised the ring.  It belongs to him and I don’t want to hear it ever mentioned again.  You all were given so much more than a ring by your father.  You were given life, everything you needed or wanted, but most of all, he gave you unconditional love and guidance your entire lives.  He gave you all that he had and all that he was.  The ring is a representation of that, yes, but more than that is what he’s placed inside of each of you.”

And with that, the mess of the ring was settled once and for all and placed in the hands of its rightful owner.  Sadly, the other two did resent their brother for years to come, but no one would cross Uncle Denny and his tactics.