A Mysterious Act on a Rainy Parisian Night
Could there be a worse time to lose your wedding ring?
My wife was nine months pregnant on a wet, dark, and cold December in Paris. Raining cats and dogs. “La vache qui piss” as the French say. I’d just left my office to jump on my scooter home to get my wife and three-year old, and then take the car to the clinic where son number two would soon be born.
And then I lost my wedding ring.
My fingers had swollen recently so my ring was on my smallest finger, slightly loose. Trying to get into my scooter rain suit while juggling a computer bag, helmet, and keys, all of a sudden the ring popped off and rolled somewhere down Avenue Kléber.
I hunted for the ring for quite some time, hearing my very pregnant wife calling three times on my mobile but not wanting to answer and say what was delaying me. I spotted a security guard standing in the doorway of a nearby Gap store watching me, and explained to him that I had a huge problem: I could keep hunting for the ring, or could take my wife to the hospital. I chose the latter, and asked if he would please keep an eye out for anybody turning it in.
“Pas de problème, Monsieur.” Alain said he would be there the next day at the same time.
I scootered home to get my car, son, and justifiably-stressed wife. Driving to the clinic in the pouring rain I covered up my ring finger so that she wouldn’t spot anything wrong. I told her something really important had delayed me, and that I would try and get it sorted out in the next couple of days.
Marcus was born at 7:21 in the morning on 12/12 (coincidentally his brother had been born at 7:21 pm). At least with such a birth date he won’t have to bother if it is the month that comes first (on his US passport) or the day first (on his French passport).
My wife still hadn’t spotted my missing ring but asked what in the world had been so important to delay me. I told her it wasn’t work, was very important, and I would tell her the next day if I hadn’t fixed it.
Off to the Gap in the afternoon, Alain was in the shop, spotted me coming in, and gave me a big smile and a big thumbs-up. He handed me my ring, which was much worse for wear. Quite a few cars must have rolled over it because it was rather chipped up, but that was it, engraved 12 September 1997, Vallery, France. Actually, “Fronce”… the Galleries Lafayette shop that engraved it had spelled France wrong.
Although he denied it, I got the impression that he must have hunted around quite a bit to find the ring. I showed him a picture of our newborn, and he gave me a big smile and a congratulations. I gave him an early Christmas present, and then went back to the clinic to see my family, wearing my wedding ring. I told her about Alain and my no-longer-lost ring.
Some days later I thought that I hadn’t given him a nice enough Christmas present, and so went back to the store. No Alain. I went back a few times but he was never there, and I so finally asked a store manager when he would be on duty.
She told me that they didn’t have a security guard and, in fact, they had never had a security guard.
I had an office in the same building until 2016, for the last years immediately above the Gap store, at 112 Avenue Kleber. When in town I would park my scooter next to or in front of the store, and sometimes, out of curiosity, check to see if they had a security guard. Except for those two times on 11 and 12 December 2003, I’ve never seen a security guard in the shop.
So who in the world was or is Alain?
Whoever he was, I’ll never forget that kind favour he did for me.
