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The third time Judith had taken her to a restaurant like this and insisted on paying, Debbie had told her “you know you don’t need to buy my forgiveness, right?”
“That’s not what this is.” She’d replied with a decisive shake of her head and a disarmingly honest look. “Not all at all. You’ve always deserved to be wined and dined, love, and I finally get to do it.” After that, she’d stopped protesting. Judith clearly had the money to spare, and took great pleasure in treating her. And she had to admit it was nice, if a little disorienting, to be treated like someone precious.
If anything Judith has outdone herself tonight, this restaurant even nicer than all the others. Each course is even better the last, and by the time she’s licked her dessert spoon clean she’s floating on a haze of champagne and cream and the way Judith’s eyes are sparkling. Then Judith clears her throat. “I’ve got something for you.” After reaching into her jacket pocket, she pushes a small box across the table. It looks antique, rich midnight-blue leather, a tiny bit scuffed, embossed with gold.
“What is it?”
“Open it.” So she does, and lets out a gasp. Inside, nestled in plush velvet, is possibly the most beautiful ring Debbie has ever seen. The gold setting twines vinelike around a central ruby, flanked by small diamonds winking in the candlelight.
“Judith, it’s too much,” she breathes at the same times as she’s slipping it onto her finger, moving her hand to let the stones catch the light.
“Nonsense,” she smiles, clearly pleased. “I know silver is the traditional gift, but I saw it and couldn’t resist. It looks perfect on you.”
It takes Debbie’s mind a minute to catch up to what Judith has said. “Traditional gift?” She asks, then puts it together a second later. She remembers the awful sterling tennis bracelet David gave her for their anniversary two years ago. “We did meet around this time of year, didn’t we?”
“Not around. Twenty-five years ago today. The twenty-third of September.”
“You remember the date?” Or, “oh, I guess you could look it up in the agency’s records.”
“No!” Judith’s expression is horrified. “I mean, I suppose I could, but I didn’t have to. I thought you knew?” When Debbie just looks at her, puzzled, she goes on. “My passcode. Didn’t you ever wonder why?”
Oh. Oh. 0923. It’s been Judith’s phone lock code as long as smartphones have existed. It was the code to get into her super-secret safe house. “But that’s the American way.”
“Well. I didn’t want to be too obvious.” There’s a faint blush rising on her cheeks. She does some quick math. Judith had been an early adopter, of course. She’d been the first person Debbie knew to get the iPhone in … 2007, it would’ve been, because she’d used the camera on it to take Davey’s first-day pictures for year two. Six years after they met, and that was already the most memorable number for her.
When she’d first found out about Judith’s double life, she’d been so devastated at the idea that one of (who is she kidding really, the) most important person in her life didn’t feel the same way about her. That she was just part of some elaborate ruse and that the love which had been her bedrock for over twenty years had been a lie. Seeing the room behind the closet had put all of those fears to rest, of course. What she’s only now starting to realize is that she’s the one who has been undervaluing their relationship all these years. Her memory flickers back to the hurt on Judith’s face the handful times she’d lost her temper and snapped about her not understanding long-term relationships and partnership. At the time, she’d just assumed Judith was hurt by the low-blow at her perpetual singleness. But now, well.
She hasn’t ever asked Judith when this started for her. She’s been a little afraid of the answer. Not because she’d scared of Judith’s love - she’s bloomed in the light of her friend’s adoration, happier than she has ever been - but because of what it says about her, that it took her so long to catch up.
She glances down at the ring on her finger, thinking about what it represents. Twenty-five years of love and support, of being one another’s person. She looks at Judith and thinks about another twenty-five years with her, and feels rich beyond all imagining. She slips the ring off her right hand, and onto her left before holding it out. “What do you think?”
Judith just stares at her hand, and it doesn’t take long for Debbie to panic. “I’m sorry, I-” she goes to tug the ring off, but Judith lays a hand over hers.
“No,” she says softly, and for the first time Debbie looks into her face and realizes her eyes are full of tears. She picks up Debbie’s hand, reverently, and presses her lips to it. “It’s perfect.”