Tilting at Windmills by Joseph Pittman

last year, less than three short months ago. Snow had covered the sidewalks of New York, pretty, white litter that drifted down from the sky and still seemed fresh on that cold morning. Maddie and I, we’d been playing tourist in our own backyard as we visited the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, window-shopped along Fifth Avenue, and contemplated taking in a matinee. It was a Wednesday and the office was closed for the holiday week. There were any number of streets we could have taken, but 47th, going west, would take us directly to the half-price TKTS booth where we could see what Broadway had to offer on that beautiful winter’s day. So we headed west, strolling arm in arm down the diamond district, lost in our own world. We stopped in front of a tiny shop called Eli’s Jewelers and I pointed to something glistening in the window. A not tiny piece of diamond surrounded by three others on a gold band, it sparkled in the bright sunshine and I thanked the weather or maybe even God for giving the ring that extra sheen.
    “Oh . . . oh, Brian, it’s beautiful. No, it’s more than that. It’s . . . indescribable. There’s no word in the English language . . .”
    She turned to me.
    “Now you know the problem I have every time someone asks me about you. I become utterly speechless.”
    “Oh,” she said, and leaned in until our lips touched. We were lost in each other and could have been anywhere rather than in this wintry urban wilderness.
    The blaring sound of a taxi horn broke us apart and we laughed. People passing us smiled, the holiday mood vibrantly alive on this diamond-laced street. I told her then that the ring would soon be hers. But it was official—we were now unofficially engaged, or pre-engaged, or, forsaking a label, merely two people very much in love.
    That day, we did see a show, we did walk hand in hand through the drifts of snow in Central Park, and we did make love the night long. And we did see nothing but the brightest and most intoxicating future imaginable. The perfect life, marriage, children. She wanted three kids, and I said how fine that sounded. Maddie wanted boys, and wasn’t that wonderful, but a special little girl would, I thought, bring out the untapped father in me. So with these hopes and dreams shared, I took the next step. The next morning I went back to Eli’s and bought the ring.
    Now, with the memory of that day so bittersweet in my mind, I entered the little jewelry shop. The ring was in my pocket. The tinkling of a bell alerted the owner, and he smiled at me with recognition. His brow furrowed. This kindly old gentleman had been in business too long a time, and he knew a wounded heart when he saw one.
    “My boy,” he said, and clasped his hands in genuine concern. There was little else to say.
    I removed the box from my pocket and set it on the counter without opening it.
    “I bought this . . .”
    “New Year’s Eve, I remember. Figured you needed it for the evening’s celebration. Not so?”
    I shook my head. “Change of plans.”
    “Let me get my paperwork—I’ll be right back.”
    He left me, and I stole a quick glance around the small shop. The last thing I wanted to see was a giddy couple hovering over a selection of engagement rings. I was shaky still from having seen Maddie, and I wondered if any good at all had come of our seeing each other again. She’d given me one last chance to explain my actions. For her, too, it was the moment to come clean, and the fact that she hadn’t done so told me I’d made the right decision. Maddie and I were not destiny’s couple.
    One day, though, one day in the future, we’d have to confront the truth, settle the past before we could move on. Or was that all psychobabble?
    “Here we go,” the man said, a thick file marked DECEMBER in his frail old hands. “Only February is thicker,” he confessed.
    “I’ve changed my mind,” I suddenly announced.
    “Eh? What’s that?”
    “I’m holding onto the