I told y’all how Monday was kind of weird because of that wedding ring memory, right? Well, it got even weirder when I came home from work. G met me at the door of our bedroom with the words, “I’ve got some bad news. Not big bad news…” He held up his left hand. “I lost my ring.”
I shit you not. My body went cold because that’s not the first time a fellow who’s wearing my ring confesses that he’s “lost it.”
Guess who? C’mon, guess.
About a month before I found out that Fartbuster had been having an affair, he met me at the door as I walked in from the garage. He was picking at the skin of his palms, all sweaty looking and panicky. “Don’t freak out–I lost my ring at lunch today.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say so I stayed quiet. Funny how the only thing I could hold in my mind at that moment was the door mat from that fall. Funny how that betrayal came right back to mind.
“I think what happened was I took it off to wash my hands in the bathroom and I stuck it in my pocket but it must not have gone all the way down in there and it fell out. But I didn’t hear it maybe because the water was running. When I was getting in my car after lunch I realized that it wasn’t there. I looked EVERYWHERE–in that bathroom, under the table, I asked them to look in the kitchen. I was an hour late getting back to work because I didn’t want to stop looking for it. I left my number with the restaurant manager. We even looked in the parking lot.”
I still couldn’t say anything because all the blood in my body had gone to my head to pound between my ears.
“I’m sorry. I’ll go back and look tomorrow.”
“Are you mad?”
“I’m sad. That was a beautiful ring.” Handmade and special ordered from an artisan in California. A wide band made of alternating braided gold. Even with Tony the Jeweler giving me the family discount, that ring had cost me $1500.
I was sad. Maybe I had been sad since the summer before, when we took that miserable trip to England. Or since that August, when he came home with the lipstick on his collar. The door mat had made me more angry than sad, but sad at the heart of it. I had been sad back in October, when I planted those daffodils in the backyard and wondered if we would still be married when they bloomed. Had I been sad since January, when he had lost his job? It had been a sad year.
That ring was never found. A couple of weeks later, we went down to Tony’s and ordered a new one. I thought it would be a fresh start for us.
A few days later, Fartbuster told me that he wanted to move out and “get his head together.” I STILL didn’t know about the affair. But I was pretty sure it wasn’t the time to lay out another thousand dollars on a wedding ring. I was too embarrassed to call Tony myself and cancel the order. Big Gay took care of that for me.
So a few weeks later, when Fartbuster came clean about the affair and I threw my own heavy gold wedding ring at his head, his finger was already bare. I remember saying, “Oh! Now I know what happened to your ring!” and he said, “No! I wasn’t lying about that. About that.”
Yeah, G didn’t know WHAT can of worms he was opening up when he told me “I lost my ring.” I kept quiet, working through all these thoughts. That was the same day I had been visited by the memory of Richard’s wedding ring–now here I was reliving a deja vu ring scene from ANOTHER marriage!
Luckily, while I was tracing my way through all that mental drama, G found his ring in the sofa cushions. Sometimes, if I keep my mouth shut, things work out on their own!