Vera noticed the empty place on her finger when she reached for her towel. Her ring had been loose for several months, but she had postponed visiting the jeweler because she did not want to leave it behind even for a few days. Now she stood at the water's edge, trying to reconstruct every movement of her hand. Ivan set down his book. He asked when she had last been certain she was wearing it. At breakfast, she said, immediately wishing she could offer a smaller portion of the day.
They searched her bag, their sandals, and the hollows between stones. Ivan carefully shook the towels over dry sand. Every few minutes Vera found something shiny and felt the same brief jolt of hope. There was a piece of glass, an earring back, and a wet sunflower seed shell. When she picked up crumpled foil, she suddenly began to cry. Ivan knelt beside her without explaining how small the object was on such a large beach.
She had worn that ring for twenty-eight years. The date inside was almost unreadable, and the outside bore a tiny dent from a long-ago fall on some steps. Vera knew every irregularity. Ivan said they could leave their number at the nearby café in case somebody found it. He did not mention buying another. Nevertheless, she asked whether he would think their marriage meant nothing to her because she had not resized the ring in time.
"I think you've lost your ring," he answered. "And you're very upset." Vera looked at him almost angrily. She wanted him to understand how much she had lost, but she was also grateful that he was not adding an accusation to the loss. She told him she had never removed it even when they were so angry that they ate dinner in separate rooms. Ivan remembered those dinners. He said it was good they had returned to the same table, even when neither knew how to begin.
The sun was already low when Ivan suggested stopping. Vera asked for ten more minutes. He agreed, then went to the car for her sweater. When he returned, he found her sitting on the towel. She held all the small things she had found in her palm. She separated the little stones from the rubbish and closed her empty fist. She was ready to leave, although she was no less sad.
They left their phone number at the café, drank water, and ordered sandwiches because they had missed lunch. Vera glanced toward the beach several times. Ivan did not tell her to stop. On the way back to their accommodation, she took his hand. His ring touched the bare skin of her finger. The sensation was new and a little painful. She did not withdraw her hand, and he did not loosen his grip.