"Thank you for your unbiased assessment," Joanna retorted. "I also want to thank you for making everything so clear for me. It certainly makes it easier to make up my mind."
"Make up your mind about what?" Carlton asked. The newly found firmness of his voice vanished. In its place was a definite quaver. He had a premonition about what was coming, and it was accompanied by a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"About my future," Joanna said. "Here!" She extended her clenched fist with the obvious intention of giving something to Carlton.
Carlton reached out hesitantly with a cupped palm. He felt something cold drop into his hand. Glancing down, he found himself staring at his grandmother's diamond.
"What's this all about?" Carlton stammered.
"I think it's pretty clear," Joanna said. "Consider yourself free to finish your residency and whatever else your little heart desires. I certainly don't want to think of myself as a drag."
"You're not serious?" Carlton questioned. Caught completely off guard by this sudden turn of events, he was befuddled.
"Oh, but I am," Joanna said. "Consider our engagement officially over. Good night, Carlton."
Joanna turned and walked back along Craigie Street toward Concord Avenue and the entrance to the Craigie Arms. Her apartment was on the third floor.
After a brief struggle with the door release Carlton leaped from his Cherokee and ran after Joanna, who'd already reached the corner. A few deep red maple leaves, which had fallen from the tree that very day, wafted in his wake. He caught up to his former fiancée as she was about to enter her apartment building. He was out of breath. He was clutching the engagement ring in his fist.
"All right," Carlton managed. "You've made your point. Here, take the ring back." He extended his hand.
Joanna shook her head. Her grim determination had disappeared. In its place was a tenuous smile. "I didn't give the ring back as a mere gesture or machination. Nor am I actually angry. You obviously don't want to get married now, and all at once, I don't either. Let's give it a rest. We're still friends."
"But I love you," Carlton blurted.
"I'm flattered," Joanna said. "And I suppose I still love you, but things have been dragging on for too long. Let's go our separate ways, at least for now."
"But
"Good night, Carlton," Joanna said. She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and gave Carlton's cheek a brush with her lips. A moment later she was in the elevator. She hadn't looked back.
Putting her key in her apartment door she noticed she was trembling. Despite her airy dismissal of Carlton, she felt her emotions rumbling just below the surface.
"Wow!" her roommate Deborah Cochrane exclaimed. She checked the task bar on her computer to see the time. "Rather early for a Friday night. Wussup?" Deborah was dressed in oversized Harvard-emblazoned sweats. In comparison with the soft, porcelain femininity of her roommate, she was mildly tomboyish with short dark hair, a
Mediterranean olive complexion, and an athletic build. Her facial features contributed by being stronger and more rounded than Joanna's yet no less feminine. All in all, the roommates complemented each other and emphasized each other's natural attractiveness.
Joanna didn't respond as she hung up her coat in the hall closet. Deborah watched her closely as she came into their sparsely furnished living room and collapsed on the couch. She tucked her feet under herself and only then met Deborah's inquisitive eyes.
"Don't tell me you guys had a fight," Deborah said.
"Not a fight per se," Joanna said. "Just a parting of ways."
Deborah's jaw dropped. For the six years she'd known Joanna, from freshman orientation onward, Carlton had been a fixture in Joanna's life. As far as she was concerned there'd not been the slightest hint of discord within the relationship. "What happened?" she asked with astonishment.
"I suddenly saw the light," Joanna said. There was a slight trill to her voice that Deborah noticed instantly. "My engagement is off, and, more importantly, I'm not going to count on getting married, period. If it happens, fine, but if it doesn't, that's okay too."
"My word!" Deborah said, unable to keep the glee from her voice. "This doesn't sound like the 'butter cream frosting, silky bridesmaids' dresses' girl that I've come to love. Why the change of heart?" Deborah considered Joanna's march toward marriage almost religious in its unswerving intensity.
"Carlton wanted to postpone the wedding until after his residency," Joanna said. In short order, she recounted the last fifteen minutes of her date with Carlton. Deborah listened with rapt attention.
"Are you all right?" Deborah asked when Joanna fell silent. She leaned forward to peer more directly into Joanna's eyes.
"Better than I would have guessed," Joanna admitted. "I feel a little shaky, I suppose, but all things considered, I'm doing okay."
"Then this calls for a celebration," Deborah exclaimed. She stood up and bounced into the kitchen. "I've been saving that bottle of champagne cluttering up the fridge for months," she called over her shoulder. "This is the time to open it."
"I suppose,' Joanna managed. She didn't feel much like celebrating, but resisting Deborah's enthusiasm would have taken too much effort.
"All right!" Deborah exclaimed as she returned with the champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. She knelt at the coffee table and attacked the bottle. The cork came away with a resounding pop and caromed off the ceiling. Deborah laughed but noticed that Joanna didn't.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Deborah asked.
"I have to say, it's a big adjustment."
"That's an understatement," Deborah averred. "Knowing you as well as I do, it's the equivalent of Saint Paul falling on the way to Damascus. You've been programmed by the Houston social scene toward marriage since you were nothing but a twinkle in your mother's eye."
Joanna laughed despite herself.
Deborah poured the champagne too quickly. Both glasses filled, mostly with fizz, and spilled out on the table. Undeterred, Deborah snatched up the flutes and handed one to Joanna. Then she made Joanna clink glasses with her.
"Welcome to the twenty-first century social scene," Deborah said.
Both women lifted their stemware and tried to drink. They coughed on the foam and laughed. Not wanting to lose the moment, Deborah quickly took both glasses into the kitchen, rinsed them, and returned. This time she poured more carefully by letting the champagne run down the side of the glass. When they drank, it was mostly liquid.
"Not the greatest bubbly," Deborah admitted. "But it's not surprising. David gave it to me way back when. Unfortunately he was a cheapskate from the word go." Deborah had broken off a four-month relationship with her most recent boyfriend, David Curtis, the week before. In sharp contrast to Joanna's, her longest relationship had been less than two years and that was way back in high school. In many ways the two women couldn't have been more different. Instead of the affluent southern suburban social scene complete with debutante balls funded by oil money which Joanna had enjoyed, Deborah grew up in Manhattan with a bohemian single parent who was immersed in academia. Deborah had never known her father, since it was her imminent birth that had ended her parents' relationship. Her mother hadn't married until relatively late in life, after Deborah had left for college.
"I've not been much of a champagne fan anyway," Joanna said. "I actually wouldn't even know if it were good stuff or not." She twirled the glass in her fingers, momentarily mesmerized by the effervescence.
"What happened to your ring?" Deborah asked, noticing for the first time that the jewelry was gone.
"I gave it back," Joanna said casually.
Deborah shook her head. She was amazed. Joanna had loved the diamond and everything it stood for. She'd rarely taken it from her finger.