Less than two weeks after Neil and I returned from New Orleans, he drove back to Northern Virginia. His parents’ receptionist resigned, and Neil had to work the front desk of their medical practice until a suitable replacement could be hired. Neil remained an appendage of his family and came whenever they called. He withdrew from summer classes and went home to fulfill his duty. Surprisingly, his parents allowed him to forego periods of education to answer phones and tell patients to sit in the waiting room. I assumed they could have contracted a temporary employee, but this excuse also brought their son home for more than a few days at a time. Standing in the parking lot of our Lawrence apartment complex, I stoically watched Neil drive away then drank coffee with Charlene and Elliot. Of course, I could not accompany Neil for an extended stay because I had an assistantship salary to earn and decided to begin initial exploratory literature research before drafting a proposal for my doctoral project.

The previous fall a new professor, whose reputation preceded him, joined the Consumer Science department. Although the faculty and dean interviewed Dr. Butler before I came to school at Carolina Tech, I heard about his background as a textile buyer. He studied art and design as an undergraduate student, pursued a career in the fashion industry, then decided to earn a doctoral degree in textiles; specializing in consumer behavior. After a respectable period of time elapsed and the man settled into his new role as a professor, I went to his office to introduce myself. He seemed mildly interested in my bridal consumer concept. I found myself visiting Clive Butler almost weekly to discuss something interesting I had read or learned in class. His ideas struck me as brilliant. Dr. Butler loved to talk to whoever would sit in his office and listen to his self-glorifying tales. He had a dynamic personality. Butler could enter a cocktail party without knowing a soul and conclude the evening the most popular person in attendance. I admired that trait and wished some of his charisma would transfer to me. Although my confidence developed in the years since my parents’ divorce, I was still somewhat shy and reserved. I knew I wanted to be Dr. Butler’s student since his appointment to the department was announced during my first semester. However, I followed decorum and completed three semesters before officially selecting an advisor.

Before the ink dried on the document making Clive Butler my doctoral advisor, he arranged for me to work as his student assistant that summer, while Neil manned the reception desk at his parents’ office. Butler occupied my time in the library, utilizing skills developed under Victoria Perez’ guidance, to gather information for a grant proposal he was preparing. Unfortunately, I did not skate that summer, but never wanted for something to do between study, Butler’s work, and my own literature searches.

I returned to my exercise bicycle, this time intentionally preparing for the upcoming skating season, and passed free time with Charlene. Since she worked evenings and odd hours, we often spent afternoons by the apartment complex swimming pool and prepared dinner for each other. I adored the friendship Charlene and I formed. As adult women, we recaptured the closeness of teenage girls experimenting with life’s emotions and challenges.

That summer, a new male graduate student joined the consumer science program. In Neil’s absence, and perhaps even if he had been in Lawrence with me, I found myself attracted to this handsome young man who shared many of my intellectual interests. I rarely discussed my personal life with fellow graduate students, and Gregory did not know that I lived with an absentee boyfriend. When he had trouble with his car and asked me for a ride home, I gladly complied. We chatted pleasantly, then Gregory kissed me before getting out of my car. Although I liked Gregory, and may have liked him a lot more under different circumstances, his behavior surprised and delighted me. Fortunately, I trusted Charlene and discussed these confusing feelings with her.

The next day, I asked Gregory to join me for lunch at the Student Center. Upset about disillusioning him and, on some level disappointing myself, I told him about Neil. He appeared terribly embarrassed and apologized profusely. Truthfully, Gregory gave me something to think about.

Neil did not return until mid-August, by which time, I had purged Gregory from my system. We went to dinner at one of the only nice restaurants in Lawrence the first Saturday night after Neil settled back into our apartment. He had taken me to this place to celebrate my birthday the previous fall and to atone for having to leave for most of the summer. Smiling boyishly, Neil pushed a small gift box across the table. My eyebrow rose curiously as I fingered the pretty package.

“What is this for?”

Neil simply insisted that I open it.

I released the ribbon bow and lifted the wrapped lid off the box without having to tear the metallic paper. Inside, nestled amidst Easter basket straw, sat a small velvet case. I felt a combination of elation and nausea as I lifted it from its bed. I did not have to open the dainty box to know what lay inside, yet I hoped it might be something else. But it was not a bracelet or a pendant or a little porcelain cat figurine. It was a diamond ring. I looked at Neil with wide astonished eyes and an open but speechless mouth.

“Let’s get engaged, Kate,” he announced as though I had won a prize.

Neil and I lived together for a year, and dated for over a year before that. Of course, we had talked about marriage; but in a distant, nebulous context. I never led Neil to believe that I did not want to marry him someday or that I took living together lightly. I actually did want to get married, maybe even to him. Usually, I was more concerned that he did not take our relationship seriously. He seemed so inextricably tied to his parents; too attached, in fact, to fathom a future as someone's husband. Our noncommittal marriage discussions implied that when the time came to get married, if we happened to still be together, we would probably wed each other. We did not proclaim eternal devotion or outline a future together after graduation. We merely enjoyed an ongoing, comfortably secure romance. Obviously, Neil’s intentions were more sincere than I believed.

“Kate?”

Interrupted from my mental analysis of the ring and the motivation behind presenting it, a swell of excitement and joy emerged in my heart. One delighted word formed on my lips born of childhood daydreams and feminine mythology: “Yes!”

Neil lifted the ring out of its satin display and slipped it on my finger. It fit perfectly. I stared at it, still incredulous. Since dating Stephen at the age of seventeen, I contemplated a boyfriend proposing marriage. I always expected that I would see the proposal coming under the guise of an obvious outing, following many thoughtful discussions about spending our lives together. Devin and I even shopped for the ring as a couple, and I nearly fainted from second thoughts as he reached for his wallet. Nothing Neil had said or done prepared me for that evening. Had I been slightly less dumbfounded, I might have considered it romantic.

That ring changed my attitude toward Neil. Although I liked Neil and entertained the notion that I may have loved him, wearing his diamond solitaire made me see my boyfriend from a new perspective. Previously, I maintained an emotional distance, never allowing myself to become so involved that losing Neil would hurt me. The ring demolished those internal barriers and I fell in love with him. Although Neil seemed to welcome the changes in our relationship resulting from engagement, he never mentioned a wedding. Assuming I should take this role, as the bride-to-be, I asked Neil when he would like to get married. Women tend to fantasize about weddings, while their male counterparts ignore the details and look forward to the honeymoon. Neil expressed no interest in a wedding at all, which I interpreted to mean he did not care about a lavish ceremony and reception. He told me there was no hurry to get married since neither of us was ready to graduate. “We should enjoy our engagement,” he said. Enamored with Neil and the idea of being his fiancée, I happily wore my diamond ring and stopped worrying about a wedding that I could not afford to sponsor and my parents would not be anxious to host.

The Arctic Circle Ice Rink opened for the season early in September, coinciding with the beginning of the fall semester. I eagerly drove to the first public session, rented a pair of skates that Gina identified as well sharpened, and stepped onto the ice to reacclimatize myself to skating. After an hour of fumbling through the moves I learned in the spring group class, I found the place where I left off as a beginning figure skater.

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