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Rhodium

James Bates

    Monica slapped her wedding ring on Brent’s desk so hard it bounced. “Look at that,” she said.
    Her husband dragged his eyes away from the screen of his laptop and the report he was preparing. “What?”
    Her ring had come to rest on top of a printout and next to his coffee cup. She jabbed a finger. It’s a piece of crap.”
    Brent sighed, his concentration broken. He knew from ten years of experience living with her that once Monica had her mind set there was no changing it. He picked up the ring and looked. It was a pretty band made with two braids of white and yellow gold woven together and supporting a one-half-carat diamond set in a white gold base. It was different looking, something unique, and for ten years of marriage it had suited Monica fine.
    “Looks good to me,” Brent said, his eyes drifting to the laptop screen, hoping he could now get back to work.
    Exasperated, Monica said, “God, Brent, you are such an idiot.”
    “What?”
    “Look a little closer and quit thinking about the stupid report for a second, will you?” She picked up the ring and held it inches from his face, causing him to flinch.
    He took it from her, “Okay, let’s see.” He examined it closely. Other than a few scratches which he assumed were common after being worn every day of Monica’s life for ten years, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He turned his attention to her and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry...”
    Monica grabbed the ring, held it up, and spoke in a distinct, staccato tone that Brent had learned over the years indicated she meant business. “It’s faded, Brent.” She spat out the words, like getting rid of a bad taste in her mouth. “Faded with a capital “F”. The white gold has lost its luster.”
    He closely and, again, saw nothing out of the ordinary. It looked fine to him, but that didn’t matter. “So...”
    “So, I want you to do something about it.”
    “Like what?”
    “Get a hold of your buddy the jeweler. He’s the supposed ‘expert craftsman’ who made it in the first place,” she said using finger quotes to make her point. Give him hell. I want this fixed.”
    God, Brent thought to himself. This could get awkward.
    “Okay,” I’ll give him a call and set up an...” He was going to say, “an appointment,” but Monica cut him off.
    “No. No appointment. I want you to go over there right now and get this taken care of.”
    Brent knew she meant business. He stood up and looked out the window. Overnight, the mild, sunny weather of early spring had taken a turn for the worse. This morning it was forty-four degrees, now it was raining and thirty-five degrees. The temperature was dropping and chances were good it might even start snowing. It perfectly reflected his mood. God, all I wanted to do was work on my report.
    But apparently that wasn’t going to happen. He looked at his wife, the love of his life and despite the friction right now between them smiled to himself. He loved her so much. She was of average height, solidly built, and dressed in a maroon sweatsuit. She kept her dark brown hair cut short, and her oval face and gray eyes could light up a room when she smiled, which, now that he thought about it, hadn’t been happening much lately. Maybe getting this ring issue taken care of would help cheer her up.
    He smiled, “Okay, I’ll go over to Jerold’s and we’ll get this straightened out.”
    “Good.”
    As they walked to the front hall, Brent could feel the tension. Usually, they could talk about whatever was bothering either of them, but that wasn’t happening now. Monica was pissed alright, but was there something more? Something he was missing. Maybe they’d talk when he got home.
    Brent took his winter jacket out of the closet and put it on. “All right, then. I’ll see you.” He bent to give her a quick kiss but she turned her head to avoid him and it landed on her cheek.
    “Hurry back,” she said.
    “All right.”
    He was turning to leave when Monica stopped him. “Forget something?” she asked, holding the ring out to him.
    “Oops,” he smiled, trying to make a joke. “Sorry about that.”
    She didn’t smile. Didn’t hug him goodbye. Didn’t do anything other than say, “Just get it taken care of.” Almost a threat.
    Thrown off by her attitude, Brent felt a shiver go through him, “Yeah. For sure, I will.” When she didn’t say anything, just stood there looking at him, he said, “Okay. Goodbye.”
    “You’ve said that already. Get going.”
    Brent nodded, put on his gloves, and left.
    Monica held the door open and watched as he walked to the street where the car was parked. The rain had turned to snow, and wet, heavy flakes were falling. They lived in a quiet residential neighborhood in south Minneapolis and were raising a boy Norman who was in fourth grade and a girl Skye in third grade. The kids would be home from school in an hour. Brent would be gone for at least that long. She was looking forward to a little time to herself.
    Monica closed the door against the cold and went into the kitchen, filled a teapot, set it on the burner, and turned on the stove. While the water heated, she sat down and looked out the kitchen window into the backyard. The snow was coming harder and covering the ground, but she barely noticed through the tears running down her face. Angrily, she wiped them away, but still, they kept coming.
    Damn. She was mad at herself. She’d made a vow never to tell Brent she had cancer, but sometimes she wondered. Maybe she should. Especially at times like this. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t normally like this, yelling at him like she had. Maybe it was the drugs. Yeah, that had to be it; the drugs were making her crazy. She’d been taking them for nearly three months now, since the first of the year when she’d found out. In less than two months she was scheduled to start chemo if the drugs weren’t helping. Around Mother’s Day. So far, they hadn’t. She was going to have to tell Brent by then. Right? Right.
    But what about her vow to keep what she was going through to herself? Should she call her mom and tell her? No. No need to burden her. She had enough on her plate with her dad and his dementia. Should she call her best friend Zoe and tell her? Maybe. But she had her own struggles with her four kids and no good husband.
    What she really should do is tell Brent so they could fight this thing together. That’s what a lot of the books she read said the best course of action was but she didn’t want to. She wanted to be strong. That’s how she’d been raised. To be strong and independent. To go it on your own as the saying went.
    So, what to do? God, it was all such a mess.
    The teapot boiled. She wiped her tears, blew her nose, made her tea, and sat sipping, hardly tasting it. Chamomile was supposed to be calming, wasn’t it? Why wasn’t it working? Outside, the snow kept falling harder and was starting to pile up. She looked at the clock. The kids would be home in forty-five minutes. She had to get her act together by then.
***
    Jerold’s Jewelry was a small shop behind Lake Harriet Coop in southwest Minneapolis. The twenty-minute drive through the slippery, slushy streets gave Brent a chance to think. Monica had been acting so strange these past few months. What was wrong? Was she going through what he’d heard about called The Change? And what was that all about anyway? Some hormone thing, he thought. He’d have to read up on it. Whatever it was, her behavior was definitely confusing. The normally steady and even-tempered Monica he’d married was transforming into someone unrecognizable. The only word he had for it was weird. In fact, the whole thing was weird. Maybe Jerold could help.
    He parked the car, got out, pulled his jacket tight against the swirling snow, and hurried to the front door. A cheerful bell rang when he entered and Jerold looked up from behind the counter where he was working. He was a slim black man with close-cropped hair and beard. He wore a black tee shirt with Black Lives Matter printed on the front, black jeans, and a white apron. His smile lit up the room.
    “Hey, Brent. Great to see you. Long time no see.” He stretched out his hand and Brent shook it.
    “Great to see you, too,” Brent said and looked around. He and Jerold had met in college and remained close ever since. “The shop looks great.”
    It did, too. In addition to Jerold’s jewelry, the well-lit store was adorned with avant-garde paintings done by his talented girlfriend Amber. “Thanks. We’re doing okay.” He swept his arm around. “The location may be a little out of the way, but the rent is cheap. The good news is customers seem to find us.”
    Brent took a moment to gaze at the glass cases filled with rings, bracelets, necklaces, and even some small sculptures. “These all look fabulous. You keep getting better.”
    “Thanks, man. I’ve been taking classes at the Artist’s Coop. That’s helping. Never too old to learn.” He laughed. “So, what brings you by? Or is this just a social visit?” Jerold grinned.
    Brent blushed. Well, I’d like to say social, and it is, but I’ve got an issue I need you to help me with.”
    “Sure. What’s up?”
    Brent took Monica’s ring out of his pocket and handed it over. “Monica thinks it’s lost its shine or luster or something. What do you think?”
    Jerold put on his jeweler’s eyepiece and spent a long minute looking over the ring. When he was finished, he removed the eyepiece and said, “Yeah, there are some scratches on it for sure. I’ll buff them out, no charge,” he grinned.
    Brent smiled, then frowned, “What about the luster? Monica was pretty adamant about that?”
    “No worries. Buffing will take care of it. But I should tell you the white gold in the ring is made with rhodium and it loses its shine quicker than gold. Most people don’t mind, but...” he hurried to add before Brent could say anything, “but, for those that do, I’ll gladly buff it and keep it looking like new. Just bring it in every year or so for me to shine it up for her. No charge. How’s that sound?”
    Brent reached across the counter and shook Jerold’s hand. “It sounds great, my friend. Perfect.”
    “Okay, give me a minute to clean this baby up.” He turned aside to the polishing wheel. “Want some coffee?” He pointed to a curtain covering the door leading to the back workshop. “I’ve got some fresh Columbian.”
    “I’d love it.”
    “Help yourself. Clean cups are right by the pot.”
    “Thanks.”
    Jerold switched on the polishing wheel and went to work while Brent went into the back room.
    After he poured his coffee, he took out his phone and called Monica. When she didn’t answer he sent her a text. “Your ring is AOK. Jerold’s polishing it. See you soon.” Then he went back to join his friend, wondering where she was.
    At home in the kitchen Monica picked up her phone and stared at the message from Brent. She sighed and wiped the tears from her face. Polishing a ring. If it was only that easy. She glanced at the clock on the wall. The kids would be home in fifteen minutes. She washed her face in the kitchen sink and dried her eyes. Outside the snow was coming down harder. Despite the rough past hour, she smiled. When the kids got home, they’d probably want to go sledding. Or build a snowman. They loved playing in the snow. Probably the last opportunity they’d have for the rest of the season. Oh well, there was always next winter.
    She dabbed at tears forming in her eyes, forcing herself not to cry anymore. Would she even be with them next year?
***
    Back at the shop, Jerold held up the ring, “How’s this?”
    Brent set down his coffee and took it in his hands. The ring gleamed like the day he’d purchased it. Even better. “It looks fabulous. You did a great job.”
    “Thanks. It’s what I do, you know.”
    “And you do it well,” Brent grinned at him.
    Jerold poured himself some coffee and the two friends chatted for a while, catching up. While they were talking Brent scanned the jewelry cases looking for something for Monica; something nice to cheer her up. Finally, he found a silver necklace. It was different looking, like two broken hearts. He pointed, “What’s the deal with that necklace?”
    Jerold grinned and took it out of the display case. “I call it Two Hearts Beat As One. Here let me show you.” He carefully separated the two halves of the heart. Each half could be worn as a necklace. “It’s about love, of course,” he said. “Each person wears their own half. When the halves come together the heart is whole. It symbolizes that a relationship is made stronger when the two people declare their ongoing love for each other. Each person wears a half a heart to remind them that they are stronger together than they are apart as separate halves.”
    Brent didn’t have to think about his decision. “You know, Monica has been going through some things lately. I think I’ll get this for her.”
    “For you both,” Jerold grinned, correcting him. “She wears half and you wear half.”
    Brent smiled. “Got it. For us both.” He held the two heart halves and looked closely. “Say, could you do me a favor? Could you engrave our initials on the back of each half? Like B + M on Monica’s half and M + B on mine? That’d be great.”
    “Super idea.” Jerold took the two heart halves. “Just give me a minute.”
    Brent was happy. Not only had he gotten Monica’s ring buffed up and shiny for her, but he also had this new gift for her as well. He hoped it would make her happy. He loved her so much and hated to see her so down as she’d been lately.
    He took out his phone and called again. No answer. He checked the time. The kids would be getting home any minute. Now he was getting worried.
    “Jerold, are you about done? I should get going.”
    “Yep. Just finished.”
    Brent paid for the necklace and hurried out the door. The snow was falling steadily. Jerold waved goodbye, watched his friend drive off, and went back to work, hoping things worked out between him and Monica. Even though he was a jeweler, Jerold was also astute enough to know that jewelry alone could never solve problems in a marriage, even a restored ring, and a nice new necklace. He hoped Brent knew that.
    For Brent, the drive home through heavily falling snow took twice as long as earlier. Not hearing from Monica was troubling. Was there something wrong with her? Were the kids okay? What was going on?
    He hurried the last few blocks, the car slipping on the snow-covered streets. As he pulled up to their house, he breathed a sigh of relief. Monica and Aaron and Shelly were in the front yard laughing and playing. They were building a snowman.
    The kids saw him pull up and waved. “Dad, come and help us,” Aaron called.
    Shelly threw some snow in the air and yelled, “Yeah, it’s fun!”
    Brent parked the car, stepped outside, and put on his stocking hat and gloves, ready to join his family. “Save some snow for me,” he joked and hugged Monica. “You okay?”
    She kissed his cheek, “Yeah I am. But I’ve got something I want to talk to you about later.”
    “Really?” Brent said, putting his hand in his pocket and touching the package containing the ring and necklace. “What about?”
    “It’s just something you should know,” she said and looked at him seriously. “It’s important.”
    “Can’t you give me a hint?”
    Monica paused, looking at the kids and their snowman. It made her feel good and it was nice to see them having fun. She took Brent’s arm, squeezed it, and turned to Aaron and Shelly. “Your father and I are going to go inside for a minute.”
    “Awww!”
    She smiled. “We’ll be right back. Promise.”
    “Okay!”
    She took Brent’s hand. “Let’s go inside.”
    They walked across the yard hand in hand. Brent had a sinking suspicion that the ring and necklace weren’t going to help.
    But they did. After she told him the news about her cancer, he gave them to her. She loved them both. After all, in her mind, it was the thought that counted. And it counted a lot.
    Then they went back outside to be with the kids and to enjoy the snow and being together as a family. While they still could. Their life was changing and who knew what the future was going to bring? One thing they did know was they had to make the most of each and every day. No matter what. And that meant starting with today.

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