In Case You Hadn’t Heard

November 1, 2007

For a few months now, I've been hesitant to reveal the big news, because the few people I did tell all asked the same questions: Did you get her a ring? Did you set a date? They also wanted to hear a story filled with romance about a candlelight dinner, expensive champagne, and a bended knee. Since my answers were always disappointing, I stopped talking about it. But that doesn't mean I stopped thinking about it. And what I thought most was, "I really need to buy Deborah a ring." Without one, I felt like a grifter in a con game.

A dark gray diamond in a gold setting isn't a traditional engagement ring, and left to my own devices, it's not one I would've picked out. I had picked out a different one entirely — a small white diamond in a platinum setting from Christian Dior that I was all set to buy. I sat in the rear of the Christian Dior boutique on 57th Street a couple of weeks ago, while the salesgirl tried it on her perfectly manicured finger for me. "Sold," I said. The salesgirl went into the back room for what seemed like an unusually long time before coming out to tell me the bad news: limited edition ring, unavailable in Deborah's size. And due to the unique band, it would be impossible to resize.

Deborah didn't seem to care much about a ring. In any case, she didn't want a diamond one. If I were going to get her a ring, she wanted a pearl. "Then I'm going to need your help," I said. "No surprise presentation."

"That's okay."

Deborah occasionally does bookkeeping for a fancy jewelry boutique in the Meatpacking District, called Ten Thousand Things, and they happen to specialize in freshwater pearls. We went there prior to our Kiki De Montparnesse shopping spree just to see what they had. Deborah gave a big hello to everyone, then whispered that we were looking for an engagement ring.

"Oh, really?" said the owner. "For anyone I know?"

"Maybe."

The owner said he didn't have any pearl rings -- nothing quite right for an engagement ring, anyway. He showed us a gold ring set with a huge, irregularly shaped Mississippi River freshwater pearl. "Beautiful," said Deborah. "But, yeah, no."

We looked at what else they had, combing the cases along the store's perimeter, and that's where Deborah spotted the gray diamond. "Ooh, can I see that one?"

A colored-diamond ring by Lola Brooks.

A sales assistant opened the case, lightly polished the ring, and handed it to Deborah. A perfect fit right out of the case. "I love it," she said. "What do you think?"

"It's very cool, I like it," I said. "But it's really up to you. I want you to be happy."

It was expensive. Not by some people's standards, I'm sure— especially in the realm of engagement rings — but it was more than I could afford. I was prepared to pay it, though. It wouldn't feel right if it didn't hurt a little.

The salesman stepped into the back room to talk to the owner for a moment, then returned, sat down, and began to write up the sales slip. "He's giving you a nice discount," the salesman said, and slid the slip around so I could see the total.

"Wow. That is a nice discount," I nodded, slowly releasing the tight grip on my credit card.

Designer rings at wholesale prices! The romance continues!

"It's perfect," said Deborah. "I love it."

Deborah had been saying all along, "I don't care about a ring, it's really not important to me." But once she had it on her finger, she was ecstatic, looking at it constantly, practically skipping down the street.

"I thought you didn't care about a ring," I said.

She stretched her arm, spread her fingers, and swiveled her wrist from side to side, catching the sunlight on the dark gray rock. "What can I say?" she shrugged. "I'm a girl."