The Lost Girls
From Chapter Thirty-One, Holly. Sydney, Australia. April.

No matter where we all ended up, we always had the power to steer the course of our lives in a new direction. To take all the lessons we learned on the road about who we really were, or hoped to become, and what we wanted most, and try to carve out a new and improved path for ourselves. Maybe it wouldn't work our the first or even tenth time, but we'd keep forging ahead until we got it right. Until then, all we could do was take a chance...and jump.

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"I don't really want a diamond," I admitted, and Jen's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. I realized I hadn't given it much thought, but it just didn't make sense to me to spend thousands of dollars on a piece of jewelry when that money could be spent exploring the world - and my partner - on a honeymoon adventure. Or could be invested in a down payment on an apartment. I wouldn't necessarily turn down a big ring, but I didn't need one to impress my friends or as proof of a man's love for me.

As Leonie's ring passed around the circle of woman, each trying it on for size and examining it in the light, I thought about how something so small could carry such powerful symbolism. But what it symbolized, exactly, was different for different people. For many it symbolized love. It might also represent belonging and the achievement of arguably adulthood's biggest milestone. A right could mean a promise. It could mean commitment. It could mean security. It could serve as placeholder in a relationship. I'd encountered women who wore rings given by their boyfriends in an effort to buy time after years of dating, not ready to walk down the aisle or to let go. One woman's ring might mean a lifetime of freedom found in someone's arms, another's might be a shackle that holds her back from becoming who she might have been.

The ring had come full circle and was now on me. I tried to hand it back to Leonie, but Jen said, "Holly, you have to at least try it on!"

I can't explain why, but a wave of panic washed over me as I slipped it on, as if one of the women had handed me her newborn baby and I didn't know exactly what to do with it. I didn't know if I was ready to have all that meaning fitting snugly around my finger or if sliding on that ring felt so funny only because it wasn't meant for me. Mike had given it to Leonie, and Leonie alone.