Guilty by a Ruby Necklace

I just bought my daughter a ruby choker. But the moment I fastened it around her neck, my world came crashing down.

The shopkeeper called me a sick freak. My loving husband demanded an instant divorce. My best friend called me a monster.

Why? It’s just a piece of jewelry... right?

——

"It's beautiful," I said, fastening the ruby choker around Maeve's neck.

The dark red stone sat perfectly right at her throat.

"Thank you, Mom. I love you."

She leaned into the mirror, grinning as she traced the gem with her fingertips.

The antique shop owner, who had been chatting with me moments ago about the weather, paused at the register. He looked up.

The polite retail smile fell from his face.

He snatched the receipt from the printer, crumbled it into a ball, and threw it on the counter.

"Get out."

I stared at him. "Excuse me?"

He marched around the glass display, grabbing my arm and shoving me toward the door.

"Get out of my store. You sick, twisted freak."

"Don't touch me!" I pulled Maeve close, my heart hammering against my ribs.

He shoved us onto the pavement and slammed the door.

Through the glass, he stared at me with unadulterated disgust.

I locked the car doors the second we got inside.

"Don't be mad, Mommy."

"I'm not mad, sweetie." I forced a shaky breath, trying to loosen my grip on the wheel. "That man was just... very rude."

"I love it so much. Thank you for putting it on me." She looked straight into the mirror, her eyes full of innocent joy. "It makes me look pretty. Right?"

Seeing her like this, the panic in my chest finally melted away.

"You look beautiful, princess," I smiled back.

Desmond was in the kitchen pouring a glass of water when we were back.

"You won't believe the psycho I just dealt with," I told him, throwing my keys onto the counter.

Desmond turned to hand me the water. He stopped. His eyes bypassed my face and locked onto Maeve’s neck.

"I bought a ruby choker——"

The glass slipped through his fingers. It shattered loudly against the tile. Water splashed over his shoes.

"Desmond?"

He walked toward Maeve, staring at the ruby.

"Did you put that on her?"

"Yes, it's an early birthday pres—"

"Did you do it 'yourself'?" he interrupted.

"Of course I did. I fastened the clasp directly."

Desmond backed away from me. He looked at me as if I were carrying a disease.

"Pack your things," he said. "We are getting a divorce. Today."

My breath hitched. "What? Desmond, are you out of your mind?"

I reached out to grab his arm, desperate to snap him out of whatever trance this was. 

He recoiled violently, smacking my hand away. 

"Don't," he spat. His chest was heaving. "Don't you ever touch me again."

Before I could process the sting on my hand, he grabbed Maeve's wrist.

"Go to your room," he ordered, dragging her toward the stairs. 

"Mommy!" Maeve whimpered, stumbling behind him. 

"Desmond, stop it! You're hurting her!" I chased them to the bottom of the landing, my voice breaking. "A divorce? Over a necklace? Just talk to me!"

He paused, looking down at me.

"You fucking disgust me."

He pulled Maeve up the stairs and out of sight. 

I stood paralyzed in the hallway, my legs shaking so badly I had to grip the banister to stay upright.

This isn't real. The antique dealer was a crazy stranger, but Desmond? My husband of ten years? 

My chest tightened. The walls felt like they were closing in. I needed someone to tell me I wasn't losing my grip on reality.

I stumbled into the bathroom and shoved the door shut, locking it.

My fingers slipped on the phone screen to dial my best friend, Valerie.

She picked up on the second ring. "Rosalind? You sound awful."

I sank onto the cold bathmat. "Everyone is going crazy. The antique dealer just physically threw me out, and now Desmond is talking about a divorce."

"Whoa, slow down," Valerie said. "Divorce? Over what?"

"A necklace. A ruby choker I bought for Maeve."

"That’s insane."

I quickly texted her a photo I had snapped of Maeve in the shop.

There was a pause on the line. I heard her breath catch.

"Valerie? It's just jewelry, right?"

"It's a necklace," she said, her voice tight and clipped. "Rosalind, listen to me very carefully. That choker... did you put it on her yourself?"

The question again. The exact same phrasing. A phantom grip tightened around my chest.

"Yes," I whispered. "I put it on her."

Silence hung over the receiver.

"Valerie?"