To Michael with Love, Sylvia

“I’ve got it…!” Sylvia cried out, waving a wedding ring she had just had engraved for her fiancée who was across the street where he had just picked up his tuxedo. Apparently, he had forgotten something and waved to her to wait as he started back to the store, but Sylvia, in her excitement wouldn’t wait and ran to him.

Just as he was opening the door the screech of the taxi’s brakes made Micheal turn in horror as he saw Sylvia fall under the wheels of a cab. Dropping his tuxedo, he ran towards her but there was nothing he could do. The ambulance came and took her to the hospital but it was too late. At the last moment, she looked up at him smiling and whispered, “Don’t cry Michael, we’ll meet again soon”.

After arranging everything with the hospital, the police, and the funeral home, her family, it was almost midnight. He was exhausted when he entered his apartment and laid down on the couch when he realized that he didn’t have a chance nor did he even think about the ring Sylvia wanted to show him. There was no point in going back there now and look for it, as he was sure if it didn’t drop into the sewer grating, someone certainly would have picked it up.

He dropped back on the couch still fully dressed and with the lingering of her perfume he bought for her from a trip to Paris, he fell asleep.

That was a year ago today as he laid down a bouquet of flowers on her grave. He was just about to leave when he thought or imagined that smell lightly permeating the air. He turned every which way but there was no one else around so he shook his head and cried.

In the past year, Michael lived in a coop they had bought to be together for the rest of their lives. After the tragedy, he thought of selling it, but he changed his mind for no apparent reason other than remembering her last words that they will meet again and how would she know where to find him if he moved. Silly of course, but he stayed, eventually almost forgetting the why.

The coop consisted of two high rise buildings with a little park and playground in between them, and on a pleasant evening, he would take a book and sit on a bench they both set on, watching children play and thinking of their own children playing there one day.  

Today, after coming home from the cemetery, he had a light supper and went in the back to just sit there and remember the good days they had. It was quiet for a change, no kids and no parents and so he put on his ear-buds and listened to some of their favorite music, with his eyes closed and so he didn’t see a woman come out from the other building and sit close by and start to type on a laptop. 

When he looked up she sort of reminded him of Sylvia as she also used a similar laptop, Sylvia was a copywriter for an ad agency, but of course, the woman looked entirely different and Michael didn’t look at her too closely. He closed his eyes and went back to listen to his music.

When he next opened his eyes the woman was gone but there was a hint of familiar smell in the air. He looked around but there was no one around just like in the cemetery. Must be just his imagination working overtime, he thought. 

That night Michael had a peculiar dream. He dreamed about Sylvia for the first time since she was gone. In that dream, he was on a train leaving some unfamiliar railroad station. He was leaning out the carriage window as Sylvia ran towards him with an outstretched hand. In her hand, she had a ring which she threw at him as the train speeded up. When he looked at the ring he saw an engraving inside. It said, “To Michael with Love, Sylvia.” When he finished reading it, it fell out of his hand and out the open window.

That morning, Sunday, Michael woke up in a cold sweat. He did occasionally have strange dreams but this one took the cake. Weird dreams like these, always depressed him.

He looked at the clock on his night table and saw it was only six-thirty in the morning but as much as he tried, he couldn’t go back to sleep so he got up, had a small bowl of cereal, and went out in the back. To his surprise, that woman was already there typing away at her keyboard. He wasn’t in the mood to see anyone, so he went back to his apartment and sat on the couch and watched the news.

Later that day he had a date to go to a friend’s house, in a village up the Hudson River for a BBQ. His friend lived just past Sleepy Hollow to the east. It was a small community, a one-horse town, as they used to say. Maybe a block of stores which he had to pass to get there. 

So around eleven, he decided to leave as there was always traffic going up-state on Route 9, for people who liked antiquing.

For some reason, this Sunday it turned out to be a quick ride. He passed Tarrytown seemingly with no one around, even Sleepy Hollow was quiet, the few red lights showed green all the way till he came to his friend’s village were right on the block with the stores, he got a flat tire. He parked the car by the curb and got out to check it.

It was the rear right tire, flat as a pancake. He belonged to Triple-A so he gave them a call. Because it was on a Sunday, it would take them at least 30 to 45 minutes to get there. Meanwhile, he had to stay with the car.

He was early so he wasn’t too concerned about the wait, but still, it was a pain. He looked around if he could get a cup of coffee while he waited, but saw that the coffee shop was closed and so were the other stores, except for the one next to it. An Antique Shop, which seemed strange. Maybe the old Blue Laws were back again in this region when all stores were closed on a Sunday. With nothing else to do, he walked to the Antique Shop window for a look. Sylvia had a flair for antiques, every time they passed one, they had to stop. Micheal didn’t especially like it, but he would do anything for Sylvia.

He had never noticed this store before, so maybe it just opened. He looked into the window and saw the usual bric-a-brac these stores carry but on a middle shelf right in the center there was a mock porcelain hand displaying a gold ring that he thought looked just like the one in his dream from last night.

Of course, it can’t be the same ring but it certainly looked similar, he thought. He looked at his watch and saw he still had plenty of time so he tried the door and surprisingly it was open.

Before he entered he looked left and right on the street and saw no one around which he thought was rather strange for a Sunday. Usually, this block was always busy when he drove by. 

As he opened the door hesitantly, a bell rang and an old, really old, woman, came out from the back so suddenly that Michael thought she was just waiting for him to enter. The store itself was filled with what he always laughingly called junk at which Sylvia always gave him an elbow. There. again, was a familiar whisper of the same perfume smell about, just like he smelled yesterday in the back. strange, he thought. His imagination is really getting out of hand or he’s going bunkers.

“Good day,” the woman said, “may I help you?” The woman seemed ageless wearing something that would have been in fashion during the late eighteen-hundreds. Perhaps she just wore it to match her antiques, he thought.

“You must be interested in the ring I have in the window.” She said in a voice that seemed a century old.

“How did you know?” Asked Michael a bit unsettled. 

“Oh, it’s nothing mysterious, I saw you through the window looking at it.” She said smiling. 

“Oh,” said Michael, a bit relieved. “Actually I was. Is it gold? May I see it?”

“Yes, of course, it’s eighteen carats, but it has an inscription on the inside. It must have belonged to someone and they lost it or pawned it. I don’t know if you would be interested in it.”

The old lady went to the window and brought out the ring and handed it to him. “It’s a beautiful ring, isn’t it?” She said. “I know it looks a little scratched but that can be polished off, I’m sure.”

Michael took it and put it on his ring finger. I was a perfect fit but he took it off and looked inside at the engraving. 

When he saw it, he felt as if something cold had just grabbed his heart or maybe he’s still in a long dream or nightmare. He couldn’t quite fathom what was happening or why? The engraving read “To Michael with Love, Sylvia.”

His face turned white.

“Are you alright?” The woman asked him worriedly. “Would you like a glass of water…?”

After a moment he shook his head, “uh, no, thanks…” 

How is that possible? And then suddenly he remembered that Sylvia obviously dropped the ring as she was hit and he didn’t even look for it. Maybe, later on, someone must have found it and pawned it here. That must be it for there couldn’t be any other explanation.

“Do you like it?” The old woman asked as she saw Michael turn it in his hands. “Look right here, it says 18 carats in the hallmark.” She pointed it out to him.

Michael turned the ring back and forth and didn’t know what to do. He looked through the window to see if the repair guy had come, then back at the lady. It’s obvious this must be the ring Sylvia bought for him which got lost last year, what else could it be. ‘Should he buy it?’

“How much is it?” He finally asked.

“Because it has that engraving, I can’t just sell it to anybody so I’ll give you a good deal.”

“Yes…?”

“Cash, fifty dollars.”

Michael heard a beep outside and saw the triple-A guy pull up.

“OK, fifty dollars. Let me go out and talk to the repair guy and I’ll be right back.”

When he arrived at his friend’s house he told this story, but his friend seemed skeptical. “Where did you say the antique shop was?” He asked.

Michael told him. “It’s right next to the coffee shop. You know, Al’s coffee shop, we stopped there a few times…”

“Strange…” His friend said. I was just there yesterday, I don’t remember seeing an antique shop. I know there’s a small hardware store there…”

Nothing Michael could say convinced his friend that he just bought a ring at an antique shop right there next to Al’s, even after he showed them the ring. 

Well, there were many other people at the BBQ and so the topic changed but Michael still felt the ring on his finger. They tried to fix him up with a divorcee but he wasn’t in the mood. She seemed nice but Michael kept thinking of Sylvia. Why is he dreaming about her now just a year after the accident?

“Are you OK, buddy?” His friend asked him later when they were alone. “Still can’t get over the imaginary antique shop?”

Michael was beginning to get irked by his friend’s disbelief. He knew he had a flat right there by the store, how could he have imagined it. Tomorrow he’ll call Triple-A and ask for the guy who fixed his tire. Certainly, he’d be a witness.

He left early. “I don’t want to get caught in traffic going over the Triborough Bridge,” he told his friend as an excuse.

By now it was getting dark and when he passed where he got the flat, he slowed down but didn’t see the antique shop, instead, there was that hardware store his friend had mentioned. He wanted to stop but a car in the back beeped and he had to go on because there was no place to park. The street was full of people and cars probably for the restaurant in the corner building. 

Something weird is happening and he felt pretty dejected and just wanted to get home as soon as possible and get into bed. Tomorrow was Monday and there was a lot of work waiting for him at the office.

He got up early and not being used to wearing a ring he put it on his nightstand and showered, had some cereal, got dressed, and went to work forgetting to put the ring back on.

At the office, he couldn’t concentrate. He subconsciously rubbed the ring finger with his right hand. He should have remembered to put it on. The day lingered at a snail’s pace. By the end of the day, he couldn’t get out fast enough to get home and put that ring on his finger again, never to take it off. He felt an emptiness in his heart, he misses Sylvia so much. 

But when he came home and went straight to the nightstand, the ring was not there. How is that possible? He asked himself. He left it right there next to the bronze frame with Sylvia’s photo.

He turned all the drawers upside down and looked through everything with a fine-tooth comb but no ring. Maybe he had put it in the freezer? Some people do that to keep things safe. But all he found was ice.

Now he began to doubt whether he actually had the ring in the first place. Maybe it was all a dream, a figment of his imagination. Maybe he overdosed on one of the pills he was taking, it happened once before years ago.

He laid down on the sofa with a cold compress on his head and laid there thinking about the events these past few days.

It had to start with that woman he saw in the back on Friday night. He compared her to Sylvia though he really didn’t think she looked like her, just her actions were a bit familiar and that perfume smell. Then that night he had that dream about the ring. He got up early, had some cereal, and went out back but came right in because he wasn’t in the mood to start a conversation with that woman that did or didn’t resemble Sylvia.

Yesterday, when he went to the BBQ and had that flat tire, and saw the ring in the window and bought it from the old lady that things started to really get bizarre.

It was too much to think about it. He picked up a book, and went to the back to read, hoping this will get his mind off the subject.

The little park was empty again. No one there. He sat in his usual place and opened his book but couldn’t concentrate.

He sat there quietly closing his eyes just wondering what was happening to him when on a gentle breeze he smelled something familiar again, it was that perfume smell, he recalled the name suddenly, it was ‘Midnight in Paris’. Where is it coming from?

He opened his eyes and looked up and suddenly saw that woman with the laptop coming out of the other building. Again. Could she be wearing Sylvia’s perfume by some coincidence? It’s certainly possible. 

This time he looked at her more closely as she approached him. He couldn’t just get up and leave without seeming to be a boor and besides, he wanted to know if it was her with that perfume scent. She seemed about Sylvia’s age but she had dark hair and dark eyes, though Sylvia was blond with blue eyes. In a way, she could have been a relative of Sylvia’s. She had her walk too…

She put her laptop down on the table and extended her hand with a smile that sent a shiver up Michael’s spine. It was the last thing he remembered about Sylvia as she looked up at him before she died. That smile. 

“We’ve Got to Stop Meeting Like This.” She said lightheartedly. “I just arrived a few days ago and I saw you a few times sitting here but I didn’t have a chance to meet you, you seemed to always be somewhere else.” Then she handed him a small black box. “By the way, I wanted to give you this before but it was lost again.” She said looking him straight in the eyes.. 

As he opened it with shaking hands, he saw a gleaming gold ring, then he looked back up at her, he noticed her hair had turned blond and her eyes blue. In a daze, he took out the ring and looked at the engraving. To Michael with Love, Sylvia. He looked back up again and now her face had changed as well, and it was Sylvia.

“I told you we’ll meet again…” She said softly as she took his hand in hers. “… my darling.”