Why didn't I?

It was a moment of weakness. I already had an A in Professor Johnson's English 210 class and was the teacher's pet. She loved me and can I just say my analytical writing skills were kick ay-uss? I hadn't done my homework but I counted on her "forgetting" she had assigned it. That day, instead of having us get our work out, she said she would just ask us if we had done it. It was on our honor to say yes or no.

I meant to do it. Doesn't that count for something? Heck, I even wanted to do it. That's good enough for me.

"I did it." The words came out of my mouth unbidden. I couldn't take them back. Could she see that I was lying so outrageously? I expected her to frown in displeasure, call me out. But no such luck. She wrote down 10 points for me, her pencil hatches a blow to my gut.

I don't even remember what the rest of the class was about. All I could think was that I lied. Liar liar pants on fire, hanging on a telephone wire. I had sold my soul to the devil for a blasted ten points. Thus started my conscience on a wild ride of terror and guilt that would not be abated.

Unless. Unless I possibly told her the truth? Could I do it? No. How? But I had to! I had to tell her I was a dirty homework whore.

Shame decreed that I wait until after class so my lie wouldn't be discovered by my classmates. But shame also kept me waiting so long I had to chase my professor half-way across campus on her way to her next class.

"You know that homework you assigned? I didn't do it." I waited for her hatred, her anger, her lecture. She barely glanced back. Thank you shame for providing the perfect timing.

"I'll make a note of it," she said, and hurried on her way.

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Her face popped into my mind. A good friend. She was a recent friend, as timelines for friends go. I had only known her five years. But we were of like mind on so many things.

Religion, for example. She never judged me when I let mine, which happened to be hers, go. She was my designated driver when I drank three sips of a martini (I'm a lightweight). She dragged me to the artsy-fartsy movies and I dragged her to the scary ones.

I have kids; she has a four-legged furry pal that is as naughty as any kid I've ever known. She puts up with my philosophying and I put up with her quirks.

I need to call her, I thought.

But I didn't. Several more times my thoughts wandered to her and I smiled. But two kids can be distracting.

Two weeks later we go to dinner.

Me: "You look like you're doing good."

She: Hesitates. "A couple weeks ago I was at that point. I made plans for FP (furry pal) to be taken care of. I researched how I was going to do it."

Do it, meaning: if I have to spell it out you are not worthy to read this blog.

Just as I am not worthy to be a friend.
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I use to have a golden ring with a princess-cut diamond. Two round diamonds on either side of the center stone finished it off.

I used to have a bastard of a fiance. He gave me the ring. When he called off the wedding, he wanted it back.

We both stood by the Provo Temple fountain.

I put it back in his hand.

He left me alone by the fountain.

Why didn't I chuck it in?