He Stopped Loving Her Tonight

I think we should break up...

The words echoed through Tom's mind for the thousandth time that evening, as he leaned against the railing of the pier, watching the mighty Mississippi roll by as he polished off the ancient bottle of champagne that he'd had waiting in his car.

He allowed himself a grin as brought the bottle back up to his mouth, clinking his teeth against the glass, and welcoming the last dregs of liquor down his throat. Good old self confidence strikes again. Doesn't it, Tommy Boy?

Bored with each other. That's what she'd said. Bored! Of all the things I could have been feeling then... To his credit, he supposed, he hadn't objected very strongly.

It wouldn't have been right, after all. If she was really willing to make a clean break with him, he wasn't going to risk hurting her by—

Nice sanctimonious little load you got there, Tommy. cackled a voice in the back of his mind. Always so noble. Tom sighed. "He" was right, of course...the truth was, he just didn't have the heart to say anything else at that crummy little restaurant.

How could he?

It had just broken.

Tom gave the bottle a last heft, checking the weight. Nope...definitely empty this time. There was no sense putting it off any longer, then.

He gently set the bottle down on the pier, and, after a moment, reached into his pants pocket for the little package he'd so carefully taken out of his safe deposit box that afternoon.

Odd...he'd been so nervous carrying the little box, earlier. He'd found himself patting his pocket every five minutes, just to make sure it was still there.

But his hand wasn't shaking, now. Now as he opened the velvet box up, and pulled out the little piece of jewelry.

It wasn't even gold, or silver. The plain, ugly metal was streaked with green corrosion. A mark of it's ancestry at some nameless English machine shop.

But, by God, that was a real diamond there, crudely set in the center of the ring. Tom had no idea where his grandfather had found it—though there was the old family rumor about a jewelry store hit by the Blitz—but ol' Grampa Sloane had had it there for Tom's future grandmother, the night before he rode a glider into Normandy.

Tom saw the gem glitter in the moonlight, then sighed, closing his fist around the ring. That didn't matter. The ring was useless, now. Useless.

Goodbye... Tom thought.

Tom pulled his arm back, then heaved it forward, throwing the ring into the humid night. A moment later, it hit the water with a splash, and sank down to the bottom of the river.

And, not long after, Tom followed.


Original post date: 2004?