The proposal

The next two weeks seem to drag by. Although we considered ourselves officially engaged, we didn't want to make any announcement until we had a ring. I had absolutely no idea what I wanted in an engagement ring. Luckily, Jeff did. In fact, he and his buddies had an unnatural obsession with engagement rings. They knew the four C's by heart, and each had their favorite cut and band style picked out. I thought I wanted a white gold ring, but it turns out that white gold was not what I thought it was. We took a trip to the jewelers, where I acquired an education about diamonds and rings.

We quickly decided on a cut, but it took a little more work to agree on a size. I didn't want anything flashy, but Jeff insisted we get something big enough that I wouldn't want a new ring in a year. We went back and forth, me starting small and he starting big, until we finally settled on something in the middle. The jeweler showed me a diamond at our selected size, pointing out the imperfections in it that made it personal. No other diamond was like it. It was unique and special, just like our marriage would be. It was a corny analogy, but I fell for it. "I want that one," I said.

The rest of the details fell into place, but it was going to be a week or so before the ring was ready. I felt a twinge of disappointment that it would take so long. It was killing me not to be able to tell my roommates. I hadn't told my parents yet either, but I wasn't quite as anxious to tell them. I was barely 20, and I knew they would think I was too young (despite the fact that my mom was 19 when she got married).

Every day I would pester Jeff, asking him if the ring was ready yet. "Not yet," he would tell me, not giving any more information than that. I didn't understand all the secrecy. I figured that since I already knew we were getting married, there wouldn't be a formal proposal. He would just hand me the ring and that would be it. Eventually I was able to pry a date out of him: the ring would be ready on Friday. I just had to make it to the weekend.

Thursday night we were together (as we were every night those days). We had to stop by his dad's office to pick up some papers, when Jeff got a phone call from his mom. She had called to tell him that his sister had not made her high school drill team. She was pretty upset by it, so his mom was going to take her out for ice cream. Jeff relayed the conversation to me, then asked if I wanted to join them.

"I don't know, Jeff. This was a big deal to your sister, and I don't know if she wants me there right now."
"Of course she does. Besides, she's going to be your sister, too, so I think you should go be with her."
"Are you sure? I think I might be intruding."
"Don't be silly. You can take my car down, then I'll come down later with my dad and meet you at the house."
It didn't occur to me then how convenient the whole situation was. I should have seen straight through it. But I didn't.

I did as he suggested and took his car to meet his mom and sister for ice cream. After ice cream, I drove to his parent's house, while his mom and sister "ran an errand." Yes, I was still clueless. I pulled into the driveway and walked in the front door. The house was dark, except for some dim light coming from the kitchen. I peered around the corner and saw two candles on the counter, next to a basket of bright white daisies. Finally, it clicked.

I looked around for Jeff, and he suddenly appeared from behind the corner. He lead me to a chair, where I sat and waited anxiously for what was coming next. He knelt in front of me (on two knees, not one) and pulled out a white box.

Wait... white box? Why is it white? It's supposed to be black! Fuzzy black velvet! How is this possible? I can't be proposed to with a white box! It's just not right! It's... it's...

At that moment Jeff opened the box. There was a light inside of it, which shone down on the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen. All thoughts of black versus white ring boxes left, and all I could think about was the gorgeous ring in front of me, and the amazing guy holding it. He carefully removed the ring from the box and lifted my left hand from my lap.

"Carly... Ruth. Will you marry me?"
A smile as wide as my mouth would allow spread across my face. "Yes!"
He then slid the ring over my finger. Or at least he tried. My knuckle had other plans. "Um, I don't think it fits."
"Of course it does," I retorted. "They sized me for it." I grabbed the ring, feeling like a stepsister from Cinderella, trying to shove my over sized foot into a petite glass slipper. I pulled and twisted and pushed and pryed until the ring finally slid over my knuckle and into place on my finger. I would have a bruise for the next three days to show for it, but I didn't care. I had a ring. I had a fiance. It was official.