Stories to Tell in the Dark

Of Poison Rings and Secret Things

When I was a kid, I was fascinated by my mother's poison ring.

It had a wide silver band with a bright red stone. It wasn't an overly expensive ring, just something that she'd picked up for a few dollars at some thrift store or another. If you weren't paying close attention, it looked completely normal. That's why I was so surprised when she showed it to me one day, lifting the stone to reveal a hidden compartment underneath it.

"It's called a poison ring because that's what people used to put in it. They started off as locket rings, and people would place pictures of their loved ones inside. Soon enough, however, they realized that they could just as easily use it to store poison and take care of their enemies surreptitiously." Her eyes sparkled as she took in my blatant fascination. "Would you like to try it on?"

That ring was always too big for my spindly fingers, but I liked it so much that my mother put it on a cheap silver chain so I could wear it to school. For months, I wore that ring religiously, showing it to all my friends a hundred times over. Eventually, my mom let me keep it for myself, finding my obsession endearing. I don't think the ring held as much fascination for anyone else as it did for me. I found that I liked it, the way it held a secret so simple and yet so ingenious.
And I've always liked secrets.

My mom married my stepdad when I was thirteen. I got an older sister, Tania, who was fourteen at the time. I was happy with the marriage. My biological "father" had run out on my mom before I was born, so I'd never really had a dad. Todd – that's my stepdad – was the only boyfriend my mom ever brought home to meet me. He was nice and surprised me with presents from time to time. He even convinced my mom to let me get my ears pierced. He was okay in my book.

I liked Tania even better. She was earthy and open, into all the hippy shit I see spread around on Facebook. Nowadays it makes me cringe, but at the time I thought it was really cool. World peace and free love, boho fashion and long hair that cascaded down her back in blue waves. For a while, I wanted blue hair too, just seeing how cool it looked on her.
Tania and I got along right away. She was interesting, moreso than anyone else I knew at school. I could listen to her talk for hours about the Tao and yin-yang and Nirvana and what-have-you. Even better, she actually listened to me. I mean, it wasn't often that I had something to say, but when I did, I always had her undivided attention.

One night a few weeks before the wedding, Tania and I were having a girls' night, staying up late in my room, eating ice cream, and watching stupid reality TV (I liked watching reality shows because Tania would go on and on about the commercialization and materialism of modern society and the way she said those words made me shiver a little).

Tania sat up abruptly during a commercial break and asked me, "Hyacinth, what's your secret?"
I looked at her, confusion stitched over me with a thread of fear. For a moment, I was convinced that I'd been found out, before she continued, "Everyone has one. One special secret that they've never told anyone else. Since we're going to be sisters soon, let's tell each other our secrets."
I nodded in agreement, simply because I wanted to hear her speak more.
She said, "Before my mom killed herself, she was a terrible drunk. My secret is that she used to beat me when my father wasn't home. Even today he doesn't know about it. You're the only other person in the whole world who does."

I didn't know that her mother had killed herself or that she'd been an alcoholic. Todd had never mentioned it, either. I wondered if my mother knew. I also wondered who Tania would have been if her home life had always been happy. Would she have been different than the girl I knew now? It sounds awful, but at that moment, I was fervently grateful for every bruise she'd suffered.
"Your turn," she prompted when I made no move to speak.

I thought for a moment, trying to think of something to say, something other than what was on my mind. I opened my mouth, not sure what was going to come out. "When I was eight, our family dog died while my mom was at work one afternoon. I thought she'd be sad, so I buried him in the backyard and told her he ran away. His name was Lucky."
Tania nodded solemnly, as though we'd completed a ritual that would bind us together forever. What I'd told her was true, but it wasn't my all-important secret. No, that secret I couldn't share yet, but it was bubbling closer under the surface of my skin with every day we spent together. Sometimes, I worried that she'd see it swimming in my eyes, but she never did. Should I be thankful for that?