Finding Nemo

Once upon a time when she was in her junior year of college and still without a major she considered going to law school. Then she found out that being a lawyer was nothing like on TV and the ambition passed like a fading daydream.
Robert gestured and tried to explain to her what it all meant. She was sure that he was speaking English, but every now and again he would slip into legalese and she would lose track of what he was saying.
“So…the ring?” She pleaded.
He sighed deeply. “Clara, it’s theirs. I’m sorry. You have to give it to them.”
She twisted the diamond around her finger and shook her head. No. No, no, no.
“Isn’t there something we could do?” She asked. “Offer them money or…something!”
He hesitated. “They’re Holocaust survivors Clara.” When this statement had no effect on her death grip of the ring he shook his head. “If you could prove that it wasn’t the same ring.” He finally conceded. “Then you might have a chance.”
She nodded eagerly. “And how do I do that?”
“Clara…”
“Please!”
“First you should see if you can track down who great-grandpa bought the ring from.” Robert stood and moved to riffle through an old filing cabinet in the corner of the room, now serving as a television stand. He tossed a packet of papers at her. “That’s all I have on the insurance information. Besides that…” He shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t do much more to help you at this point.”
She accepted the papers, clutching them to her chest. “No, that’s fine. Thank you. Really.” She stood. “Really, thank you.”
“Clara…” He seemed to be about to say something. “Take care of yourself.”
The tiny diamond winked up at her in the swirl of silver meant to imitate a rose. Oscar had been so excited to give it to her. It was a something of a family heirloom. For two weeks after he proposed she hadn’t been able to look down at her left hand without giggling. Then there was the car accident, and he was gone and even though it was her own personal tragedy, her heart breaking as her whole world fell apart; to everyone else it was just really god damn bad luck.
She began researching. Robert sent her emails with law articles attached and she wasn’t sure if they were meant to dissuade her or aide her but she poured over them, learning terms like “nemo dat quod non habet.” It was Latin for “No one can give what one does not have.” It made her laugh. Was that what she was doing? Looking for no one?
She had known that Oscar’s great grandfather immigrated to the United States from Germany when he was young. She knew that one of his friends from Europe had offered to sell him a ring, cheap, for his pretty young American bride. She didn’t know who it was and she didn’t know where they had acquired the ring.
And now there were these people saying that her ring…her ring….was theirs.
One night she called her mother about it, crying. They were trying to take him away.
Take who away? Her mother had asked.
Oscar! She sobbed.
Her mother tried to be sympathetic. She had never liked Oscar much. Thought that he wasn’t good enough for her daughter.
But really dear, they’ve probably been through so much, you know. The Holocaust! You should really just give them the ring back.
She slammed the phone down hard on the receiver. She did not understand how her pain could be so insignificant in the face of that one word. Yes it was awful. Yes it was horrible. But it happened over half a century ago and it certainly wasn’t her fault. She was not the Gestapo and she hadn’t pried the ring away from them. She had done nothing…nothing….what right did they have to hurt her like this now?
Their names were on the lawsuit. Harry and Marjorie Thomas. They did not sound particularly Jewish to her. She looked up their address and drove by just to satisfy her curiosity. They lived in a tiny retirement community. What on earth did they need the ring for? She fumed silently as she watched the silver haired old man she assumed was Harry take out the trash. How many more years did they have? What joy could the silver band give them at this point?
Robert called first. He said that he was sorry, and she hung up on him. He called again, and she pulled the phone out of the wall. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t give it to them. He came to the door. It was him or the police. They’d won. It was just a ring! Please Clara! Clara…Clara….
She watched them for the next week. They had it now, but Marjorie didn’t wear it. There seemed to be no noticeable improvement in the quality of their lives.
Every time she looked down at her left hand she broke into sobs.
She could go there. She convinced herself. She could go there and explain to them. Maybe they didn’t understand. Maybe their lawyer hadn’t told him. He couldn’t have told them. If they knew about Oscar…they never would have taken the ring away. Yes. She would go talk to them.
The little old man frowned when he opened the door.
Yes? He asked and she tried to smile but couldn’t.
And then…? Robert asks.
And then she doesn’t remember.
The judge calls recess for the day and Robert lays a hand on her shoulder and tells her that it’s going to be okay before the guards take her back to her cell.
She doesn’t understand. They hadn’t had the ring.
The day her verdict is going to be read she sees it, shining like hope in the darkness on the hand of some terrible woman in black sitting behind the prosecutor.
Excuse me, she tries and Robert grabs her arm and hisses something at her. That’s mine.
The woman looks at her as if she is a spot on white carpet. The man beside her wraps an arm around her shoulders.
Are you getting married? Clara asks. I was going to be married. But then Oscar… Please, may I have my ring back?
Now Clara! Robert orders her and she is pulled back into he seat next to him. She stares at the ring, even as the jury comes in, even while the judge talks. Her ring. Her last piece of Oscar.
At some point Robert grabs her by the elbow and forces her to stand. Oh. They must be sentencing her now.
“We the jury on the charge of murder in the first degree find the defendant not guilty, by reason of mental disease or defect.”
Robert sighs in relief and hugs her.
My ring. She insists. My ring. May I please have it back now?