Aditus' prompts and circumstances - 2. Ring

Ring

Gray clutched the small wooden box on his lap. It had been perched on his uncle's antique desk as long as he could remember. Sometime when he was still a little boy, his uncle had given it to him, and he had sat on the rug in front of the fireplace perfectly content, running his little fingers along its intricate carvings. In a strange way, the little box had become his friend.

As it was now. His finger followed the little bumps and indentations and ran around the red stone set in the odd-shaped golden frame at the centre of the lid. It always seemed to be warm; sometimes it even felt as if it had its own heartbeat. Of course rationally, he knew it was his pulse he felt when he pressed his finger against the stone, but it was oddly soothing nevertheless.

Beside him Sandy, or was it Mandy? leaned into him and stage whispered, "Way to go Gray," and her sister added, "You definitely won the main prize," then they elbowed each other and both giggled at their own joke.

Gray rolled his eyes inwardly. Who in his right mind named his twin daughters Sandy and Mandy anyway? Probably the same idiot who named his twin sons Peter and Paul, which would be his uncle Norman.

Mr. Meyers from Meyers, Levine, and Partners looked up from his papers and cleared his throat. "Dorian Grayson Parker, your uncle wanted you to have that box you're currently holding in your hands. The relevant section of his will reads as follows: 'The little box with the red ruby goes to my nephew Grayson. I know it will be in good hands and he will always honor it.'

This prompted another giggle from the annoying twins and Gray had had enough. He knew the reading of Uncle Liam's last will wasn't over yet but he couldn't stand his greedy relatives any longer. Pushing back his chair he asked, "Do I have to sign something like an acknowledgement of receipt? I have another appointment and I am already late for another appointment." A blatant lie, but he needed to get out ASAP.

Mr. Meyers nodded sympathetically. "My secretary has everything ready in the front room. Thank you very much for coming Mr. Parker."

The giggling twins had each gotten a condo, and Uncle Norman got the house he always envied his brother for. What the double P's got, Gray didn't know and didn't care; he was more than happy with his little box. It was the one thing he'd ever wanted from his uncle's estate and it seemed his uncle had known this.

When he came home, he placed the box on the coffee table so he could see it all the time, but somehow it didn’t look right. He wandered around in his little apartment until his gaze fell on the small antique drawer chest his uncle had given to him years ago. Yes, that is the right place.

The next day Mr. Meyers called him again to inform him that his uncle had decided to hand Gray the urn with his remains, because he would know what to do with it. Gray set it beside the box.

For weeks the little box sat on its place on the drawer chest when one evening after very stressful day, Gray took it in his hand. Looking at the urn, he suddenly remembered the game his uncles had sometimes played with him when he was a little kid. They told him to take his finger and run it over the golden ring holding the ruby and made him say the same numbers again and again. 19-39-5-11. How could he have forgotten this?

Whispering the numbers absentmindedly, Gray ran his finger over the gemstone, always stopping briefly at a small bump, in its frame. He remembered how he always thought it felt like a little button, but his small finger had been too weak to press it. Now he could. A loud click resounded and four of the small oval ornaments which decorated the sides of the lid suddenly protruded. Curious, he pressed his finger against one of the ornaments and it came out further, as if it were pushed out by a hidden spring. Looking closer he detected the numbers that were written on the little wood rod. Gray then remembered an awfully bad movie he'd once seen. Could it be? Only one way to find out.

He checked the numbers and found that on each stick was one of the numbers he remembered. He started with the stick where he'd found the first number: nineteen. Click. The thirty-nine came next. Click. Gray's hands started to tremble; he felt his heart pulsing in his throat. Five. Click. Eleven. Click.

Gray tried to open the lid, but nothing happened; it was as locked as it ever had been. Frustrated, he lifted the box and then he saw it. On the rug between his feet, lay an oddly shaped brass ornament; it must have fallen out of the box when he had pushed in the last of the sticks.

Gray took it in his hand and turned it around. The ring had three s-shaped spikes; it reminded him of the Sicilian Trinacria. Looking from the ornament in his hand to the box several times it was as if a veil was lifted from his eyes. The inner ring shape fit the shape of the frame holding the ruby. It was a key!

With cold, sweating hands, Gray inserted the stone into the key and turned it. Click. The lid of the box sprang open. Gray slowly opened it further. Inside laid a folded letter. He took it out with shaking hands and unfolded the brittle paper.

It wasn't a letter; it was a drawing, and Gray immediately recognized what he saw. It was an island in the middle of a large lake that he knew well. Its shape, an unsymmetrical, heart was unmistakable.

They had visited the island every summer when he was a kid. His uncle had wandered around seemingly aimlessly, and afterwards he'd always become very melancholy.

A spot on the map was marked by a black cross and Gray shook his head and grinned. He knew his uncle had always been fond of pirate stories, where the pirates had buried their treasures on some island in the Caribbean, and then had drawn treasure maps so they did not forget where they had buried it.

He drove to the lake the next weekend; it was only a two hour drive from where he lived now. In a spur of the moment decision, he decided to take his uncle's urn with him. A last visit to his beloved island. Maybe he would even spread his ashes there. The more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed.

He rented a row boat to get to the island. With the box and the urn in his rucksack he wandered the island, map in his hand. Everything was overgrown with weeds now; nobody cared to cut back the trees or the shrubbery.

After two hours Gray wasn't so sure anymore that it had been such a good idea to spread his uncle's ashes here, when he suddenly stood before an enclosed and fenced area; in its centre stood a black marble cube, partially overgrown by ivy.

That must be what he was looking for. He climbed over the thigh-high wrought iron fence and then saw the small brass frame with the amazingly well preserved picture of a good looking man with wavy black hair. Excited, he saw that the frame had the exact shape of the inner ring of the Trinacria.

Gray set his rucksack down, took the box out and opened it. He grabbed the key and fit it over the picture. Clonk. The front plate of the cube had come off a little. He pried his fingers into the gap and pulled. Nothing happened at first, and then suddenly the front plate came off.

Gray breathed in sharply. Inside stood a white urn, identical to his uncle's black one.

Gray swallowed around the lump in his throat and then carefully took the white urn into his hand. There was writing on it. 1939.05.11 My beloved Adriano. We will be together again.

With that, everything fell into place. His uncle had never married. He'd often heard Uncle Norman and his father criticizing Uncle Liam's bachelor state at family meetings. That had been his secret. He'd already met the one.

Gray then knew what he had to do. He took his uncle's urn from his rucksack; opened the lids of both urns and then carefully poured his uncle’s ashes in Adriano's urn. Shaking it gently he united their remains. After that he stood up and went to the lakeside, opened the lid and the next gust of wind took the ashes with it.

Halfway home he noticed he was low on gas and when he saw a gas station he stopped to refill his tank. When he took his wallet out to pay he noticed the tall man with wavy black hair and striking blue eyes standing behind the counter. Blinking, he looked at the name tag and then grabbed the edge of the counter.

"Hi, my name is Adriano."