I was waiting on a bench in a shopping centre. I was the sole occupant of the bench initially, but then an elderly woman sat next to me. She seemed derelict or at least unduly careless of her appearance. She had lots of missing teeth, and there were other similar signs of neglect. Or perhaps abuse. She sat in silence for some time. Then, looking in my direction, she spoke. It was an educated voice that spoke, not quite what I was expecting.
Nice ring, she said.
I nodded.
Ruby?
I nodded.
A real one?
I nodded.
Must have been expensive, she said.
It belonged to my late partner, I said, when she was alive.
She died? she asked.
Sixteen months ago, I replied.
How long had you been together?
Thirty three years and a bit.
A lifetime. I’m so sorry.
I nodded. What words could be said? Yet after a pause, I felt I did have words to say.
I don’t wear jewellery as a rule, I said. In fact, I’ve never worn jewellery in my life. But now I do.
Pointing at the ring, she gave me a significant look.
It’s her, she said.
The ring?
Yes.
I only wish it was her, I replied. But it does remind me of her.
There was a pause.
That’s why I wear it always, I explained.
That’s lovely, she said.
And these spectacles, I said pointing at my face. The frames are hers, but the prescription is mine.
Thank you, she said, for sharing with me. I asked about a ring, and I got a full story.
She rose.
I must go now, she said. Thanks again. Lovely to talk.
Praise be to providence, I thought, that there are caring empathetic people in this world, who often just seem to pop up out of nowhere.