Terror and Insurance

As many of you know, I sometimes hang out at Bath & Body Works. They pay me to be there, but it's really just hanging out. I get to smell pretty things and use lotions I can't afford and waste away the afternoon thinking and talking about nothing important with other women-girls who need the same kind of weekend activities. I guess we get paid to be friends, but not in the illegal kind of way.
So anyway...
The Saturday after Christmas I'm working my post (not "pole" lol) -- Register #3. I am there all shift-long. It's the first day of the semi-annual sale, so there are a LOT of people buying stuff. Returning presents they don't like, spending gift cards, stocking up. At some point, as I'm STILL ringing up people's goods, as I'm scanning something I hear the slightest, almost imperceptible 'tink'. I've never heard the sound, but immediately I know what it is. I look down, horrified, and I see it. Or rather, don't see it. My diamond is gone.
My diamond is gone.
Left is a gaping hole of palladium claws. The prongs taunt me like octopus tentacles. There is nothing there but misshapen metal. I am frozen with terror. It stings as if someone has ripped a tooth from my gums, leaving just an ugly unexpected empty space.
I start lifting things like a pencil cup and rubber bands. As if this diamond is hiding under a paper clip. I have no sense of my surroundings.
This diamond has made it through a lot. My Grandfather bought it in the 1950's and wore it in his Masonic ring. When he died my Gram had it made into a solitaire she wore until she remarried. My mother wore it at her own wedding more than 20 years ago. Gary and I had it reset after we got engaged. It was supposed to last another lifetime. And now I've lost it.
I looked up at the vast line of women in front of my register. I turn back to the 5 other sales associates behind me at the cash wrap. The woman I had been ringing at the time broke the deafening silence in my head. Sounding just like Charlie Brown's teacher, she said suddenly, "Stop! Stop what you're doing for me and we'll look for it!" So we did. Well, they did. Every woman in that line knew my diamond was missing and every one of them looked for it. I, however, could not. I had a moment like only 2 others that I remember in my lifetime - where I willingly gave up control - completely succumbed to whatever was happening around me. I had nowhere else to go. I couldn't put one foot in front of the other. I couldn't fathom what I would tell Gary. We'd only been engaged a few months! Ugh, and what would I tell my mother? Almost 60 years of family history and I'd lost it. And just then, as I put one hand on my stomach to stop the spasms, and the other over my mouth to block the screams and the vomit, from deep, deep inside, a voice screamed in my head... IT'S ... NOT... INSURED!!!
Why? Because I'm an idiot, basically. I had called my insurance guy, but he needed an appraisal, and that seemed like just too much work. I just hadn't gotten around to it yet... and now, this.
It might have literally been a total of 30 seconds. It may have been 3 or 4 minutes. I really don't know. But another sales associate - one I've never met before and haven't seen since - popped up from behind me and shouted gleefully, "here it is!" She handed me the diamond. I stared at it. I started to put it in my pocket, and then considered swallowing it so at least I'd know where it was and that I could get it back. Someone handed me a gift card envelope. I put it in there, taped it shut, folded it up into a tiny piece and put it in my pocket. Then I checked approximately 52 times per minute to make sure it was still there.
After I got off work I drove immediately to the jeweler. They appraised it while the stone was out. Then they fixed it, for free, "good as new". The owner told me in the 20 years he owned the store, that had never happened. Uh huh. On Monday, first thing, I emailed the appraisal to my insurance guy and got it on our homeowner's policy for something like $7 per month.
But even now, after a huge sigh of relief, about 52 times per minute I still check to make sure the stone is there.