Prince

Chapter 1 In The Park

Charlie fondles the pewter claddagh ring once worn by his mother and imagines diverse scenarios regarding how he can give it away to his beloved. He sees himself taking one knee and bantering on about his love for her in a traditional and sappy manner, something that will make a man want to punch himself afterward for saying, but bearing with the humiliation because it is approved by the one he adores. He also imagines a scavenger hunt, with the ring as the last item found, which will be hidden in his pocket. And after a bit of playfulness, a serious request is made in exchange for the token. Charlie even entertains the old “close your eyes and I’ll give you something” routine. It’s a bit childish, but so are they. Individually, each is a sober and responsible person, but when Charlie is with his beloved, both seem to revert to a juvenile state of silliness and play things. Maybe it’s because they have know each other from a young age. He stares at the ring – a claddagh. Two hands clasping a heart surmounted by a crown. The Irish symbol of love, friendship, and trust.

His thoughts inexplicitly drift to his mother who wore the ring, and to the man who gave it to her, his father, and he strains to imagine how the two of them ever fall in love. He is quite aware of how they fall out, for he is there. Although Charlie and his family are all Spanish, his mother, Bonnie Callahan, is strictly Irish. He can still see her, the wind blowing through her Celtic hair like solar flares. His most keen memory of her hails from his earliest days, and how in the summer months Bonnie pulls her hair straight back and ties it fast with a black velvet band. And even though she is given over to super-passions just like any other Gael, it is her plumb-tight sense of duty and responsibility Charlie recollects with the greatest fondness. There never stands a sacrifice that seems excessive or too burdensome for Bonnie on behalf of those whom she loves. Even her death stretches out taut over the altar of devotion.

Charlie drops the ring in the snow that is typically so un-Los Angelean. It lands amongst a collection of cherry seeds. Charlie counts the seeds, seventeen. He gazes down at the random outlay and further fantasizes about how ancients glared upward at an equally random spread of stars, and within their dispersement could discern shapes that reminded them of their heroes and legends. Charlie tries to form an image from the constellation of cherry seeds, but nothing comes to mind. Rhythmic crushes on the grey-speckled landscape approach, then stop. A woman picks up the ring and hands it to Charlie, who doesn’t seem to notice he has lost his grip of it.

“You dropped this, I believe.”

Charlie’s attention snaps to the woman and then to the ring. Although sitting still, he is out of breath, and short bursts of visible exhalation puff from his mouth. He takes the ring and smiles as he stares at it. With deliberate movement the woman repositions toward the open spot on the parkbench next to Charlie. She hopes Charlie might notice the snow on the seat next to him, and brush it away with a grand and gallant gesture. Only when he feels the woman brushing against him, shoulder to shoulder, does he realize she is sitting down, and quickly wipes the bench spot clean with a small smile and a mumbled apology.

“I’m kinda nervous.”

“Oh? Why?”

Charlie gestures with the ring and the woman takes it from him.

“What’s this?”

“It’s called a claddagh.”

“What is it?”

“Traditional Irish engagement and wedding ring.”

The woman’s eyes brighten.

“It comes from the Irish fishing village of Claddagh outside of Galway. It goes back to the 17th century.”

She flashes a quick smile at Charlie to indicate her continuing interest, but her eyes return to the ring.

“You can wear it two ways. If the point of the heart goes away from your body as you hold your arm straight out, it mean you have given your heat away, but the other way means that your heart still belongs to you.”