Lost and Found

The sun had risen just above the horizon, though gray clouds lingered in the sky. The rain from last night was gone, but the roads were wet, and long stretches of water lay in the gutters.

Kayla Black stepped onto the rickety porch of her small house, yawning and stretching. Her brown hair was tied up but disheveled and falling around her face like a ragged curtain. Her knit sweater was twice her size and had holes, but it was comfortable. In her neighborhood full of small houses with rickety porches, no one cared what she looked like.

Kayla had never worried about how much money she had, but she did like having things. She looked over her shoulder at the open door and checked to see if her husband was looking. Then she shut the door and knelt down by an old picnic basket that her grandmother had given her years ago but never used. At least, she had never used it for picnics. Now, however, she peered inside at many odds and ends that she had collected over the years.

There were many antique objects: a locket, a coin with Asian characters, a ruby red cup, a tiny wooden chest with a metal latch, a porcelain doll two inches high, and so forth. None of it was worth much, but she had paid nothing for them. That was why she was no longer allowed in the antique store, Yesteryear’s. It was comforting to look at these items, knowing she had them and her husband had not been able to find and give them back. 

She closed the basket and left the porch to go for a walk along the sidewalk. She felt agitated. After her husband had rescued her from the police yesterday, he had stopped her on the steps of the police station and quietly told her that if she did not rehabilitate, he would divorce her. She said what she had always said, that she could not help it and no one could help her. Instead of responding, he had turned away from her and gotten in the car. He had waited for her to get in and they drove home without speaking. She was still almost sure that he would not follow through with the divorce, but he had sounded so serious. 

Her brisk pace slowed until she halted. There was a glinting in the water that was not the simple reflection of sunlight in the gutter water. She bent down and pulled out a ring floating in the gutter. It was a cheap ring, made of steel, with no decoration or gemstones on it. She wiped it off on her sweater and put it in her jeans pocket. She proceeded down the road. 

Kayla only half-noticed a woman come out on her own porch in a bright red bathrobe and a coffee cup in hand. She took no real notice of her, and she certainly had no intention of stopping to talk, but as she passed by, the woman called out to her. 

“Nice morning, isn’t it?” she said. 

Kayla turned politely to her. “Yes, it is.” 

The woman was very pretty. Her blond hair was pulled neatly into a bun, and she had carefully applied natural make-up to her slender face. She was perhaps in her mid-thirties, but she lacked the haggard expression of someone who had always lived in a poor neighborhood. She did, however, seem depressed, though making an effort to sound cheerful.

“Taking a walk?” she asked.

Kayla almost rolled her eyes and wondered if this woman was so desperate for company that she would ask questions with the most obvious answers. 

“It’s a nice morning for a walk,” she replied, and hoping to say something that would remove her from the boring conversation, she began, “Well, I’d better be - “

The woman guessed what she was doing and quickly interrupted, “I don’t want to bother you, but I don’t suppose you’ve seen a ring lying around here, have you?” 

Kayla’s face became an automatic blank as it often did when a suspicious employee started hounding her in the store. “A ring?”

“I lost it yesterday,” she explained, “when I was out jogging.”

“No,” lied Kayla. “Sorry, I haven’t seen it.”

“Well, if you see anything like it, let me know.” She paused, her depressed mood more evident. “It’s just made of steel, nothing on it. It’s engraved on the inside, though.” 

At the first mention of the ring, Kayla had casually pushed her hand into the pocket where she kept it. Now her fingers rubbed the inside of the ring, and she could feel the rough edges formed by an inscription. 

She felt some guilt, but then she said, “If it’s just a steel ring, you could get one anywhere, right?”

She sighed. “I could, but I want this one back for sentimental reasons.”

Kayla realized that she should have figured this out sooner since its owner - or previous owner - wanted it back so badly and it was also engraved. But an object having sentimental value had never made sense to her. Things existed so she could have them, and ownership by itself gave meaning to whatever was owned. Others, she was aware, thought differently. 

“Was the ring a gift?” asked Kayla. 

“My ex-husband gave it to me when we were dating. We’d always talked about marriage, but we didn’t have a lot of money at the time, so he bought me the steel ring and had it engraved with our first names, Aaron and Emily. He told me it was a placeholder.”

“Well, if he’s your ex-husband . . .”

“He divorced me because I cheated on him,” she said briefly. “Then I had a mental breakdown and quit my job as a lawyer. Honestly, I didn’t lose the ring, I threw it away. It reminded me too much of my mistake. But then, instead of thinking about how I screwed up, I kept thinking about the ring! I think I’d like to keep it as a reminder not to screw up again.” 

“Oh, I see.”

Emily glanced morosely into the distance, and Kayla used that moment to pull the ring out and drop it on the ground. The woman heard the sound and looked up.

“Look,” Kayla exclaimed, “I found it.”

She picked it up and Emily rushed off the porch. 

“That’s it,” she cried, taking it. “Oh, thank you.”

Emily spontaneously hugged her and offered coffee and donuts. Kayla declined. She walked home, and back on the porch, she stared momentarily at the basket. Then she picked it up and brought it inside where her husband was eating breakfast.