The pewter ring

Kristine Atterbury ,  Contributor

Lora took a deep, steadying breath before she entered the church. The sermon had already started, so she slipped through the doors surreptitiously, choosing one of the empty seats way at the back, trying to lighten her steps as she moved towards it, hoping the click-clacking of her shoes wasn't too loud. She didn't want to be noticed or acknowledged by anyone as she tucked her head down and watched the pastor from behind a pair of oversized sunshades.

Soon, the voices of the choir rose in song, and Lora kept her gaze downcast, fiddling with the pewter ring on her finger. It was large and intricately made, one end of it winding into the shape of a hummingbird that dipped its beak into a flower formed at the other end. Duncan had given this ring to her on her birthday. She remembered the wry smile on his face as he slipped it on to her finger.

"You know I don't really believe in birthdays, right?"

She had nodded, gazing at the tiny Swarovski crystals that formed the bird's eye and the pollen in the flower. She hadn't expected a gift or any sort of celebration at all. Duncan had a strong aversion to what he called the narcissism and extravagant self-adulation of modern culture and he did his best to boycott any personal celebrations such as birthdays, anniversaries, and any other holiday which required lavishing people with material gifts. This was why she had spent their first Valentine's Day alone in her apartment, nursing a tumbler of rum and coke, and wondering what she had got herself into by dating Duncan Cho.

It wasn't like they could have gone out in public anyway, even if he wanted to. He was 20 years her senior and her Asian history professor, to boot. Watching him in class, no one could have guessed that he was carrying on an illicit affair with one of his students. The way he spoke, the way he carried himself, the way he treated his students with a kind of aloof respect - nothing about his general demeanour betrayed the secret he had been hiding for two years. Sometimes, listening to his soft-spoken voice outline the roots of Asian-Pacific culture, she wondered if she had imagined the whole thing herself. Sitting in the large lecture room at the centre of the Arts & Humanities department, the smooth wooden desk beneath her hands, a large notebook filled with lecture notes and assignments, their relationship seemed to fade underneath the harsh light of reality. He barely looked at her, answering her questions politely but with little warmth or interest. This was how he treated all his students.

But when he appeared at her door late at night, long after the lecture was over, his eyes were almost feverish with barely suppressed desire. Opening the door to him, her heart would rise into her throat, pounding fiercely as he pulled her towards him. They were like two children, exulting in the secret they shared, revelling in the simple delight of being together. They exchanged stories about their childhoods, laughing at the differences between Jamaican and Korean culture. She would brush his hair back just for the fun of seeing every strand ripple back into place neatly, he would tug playfully at her short, red-tinted curls.

Later, after he left, doubts would begin to creep into her mind like a dark fog, dampening her spirits. Lora had always led a very staid and quiet life. she was never the kind of person who would sleep with history professors or older men. She and Mr Cho, as most of his students called him, barely took note of each other until the day she had missed the deadline for handing in her final English literature assignment. A procrastinator by nature, she finished the assignment two hours before the deadline, and as she was saving the file in Word, she somehow managed to delete everything she had typed. She was forced to spend the next two hours rewriting a 3,000-word essay. By the time she got it printed and dashed through the pouring rain to hand it in, it was too late. She stood outside the lecturer's door, banging in desperation.

"She's gone," a quiet voice said.

She spun around to see Mr Cho leaning against the railing.

"Sorry, sir," she said, trying to blink back the tears. "Is just if I don't get this assignment in, I going fail the course."

He stared at her for a moment, and Lora became conscious of how she must have looked. Her peasant blouse was damp from the rain, and her hair was a mess. He held out a hand for the assignment. "I can't promise anything," he said, his voice a strange hybrid of the Korean and Jamaican accents, "but I'll try to get her to accept it."

She nodded in gratitude and handed it to him before turning to leave.

"Miss Barrett?"

She turned back. "Yes?"

"Try not to worry. For every dark night, there is a brighter day."

"Is that Confucius?" she asked, feeling as if she was being tested.

"Actually it's Tupac." His eyes glinted with amusement, and when she laughed, there was almost a tangible shift in the atmosphere between them. That's where it all began.

On the night he gave her the ring, Lora arrived home to find him waiting in her apartment. Tiny candles were lit all around the room. When she gushed over the surprise, he simply smiled. Then he slipped the ring on her finger. Lora stared at it, speechless.

"What we share is not something that can last forever," he said in his quiet way, "but it is something I will always cherish."

The shuffling of feet startled Lora out of her reverie, and she looked around to see everyone standing. She quickly wiped at the tears on her face and stood. The pall-bearers began to make their way down the aisle, and she looked away as they walked by. Behind them walked Duncan's wife and his two children. People reached out to touch them and murmur words of sympathy. Lora stood in the pew, rigid with the burden of hidden grief.

She followed the crowd out of the church and adjusted her glasses, brushing her hair back. It had been 20 years since the night Duncan had given gave her the ring, and that part of her life was long over, but she felt her love for him as strong as ever.

She stared down at the hummingbird, its crystal eye glinting in the sunlight. Then, she went home to her own family.