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Stan was on a ski trip when the call came. The male caller had a thick Mexican accent. He asked for Stanley. I asked who was calling. His hasty explanation was that he was calling to “give Stanley an estimate on the jewelry repair”. I asked how much the repair would be, said that $30 sounded reasonable to me and if he would give the address, I would pick the jewelry up the next day.

When I walked into the tiny jewelry store, I wondered why Stan would be a customer there. It was neither close to our home nor a business that we had frequented before. I gave my name and Recardo proudly handed me a gold chain with a small silver heart showing me how carefully he had repaired it. My heart sank. I had never seen this piece of jewelry.

My head was whirling with questions. If it were a gift for me, why was it being repaired? There was no special occasion coming. Was this a gift, my darling husband had given to someone else? If so, why would he have the jeweler call our home to give the estimate? Did he want me to know about her?

As hard as I tried to stay present, it was as though I were in a dream. Confused, hurting all over, watching myself from afar and hearing me say, “No, I don’t have a receipt but I am Stanley’s wife. You called me yesterday; here is the number you phoned in my Palm Pilot.”

“Yes, si, Senora. Why do you speak such good Spanish? Where are you from? Are you a teacher?” I answered simply that I guessed I was a teacher. Paid the $30 cash and tucked the golden chain in my purse.

“You know, Senora,” Ricardo continued, “the reason I have to be so careful about receipts is that once a customer’s wife picked up some jewelry from me that was not for her and there was a divorce!”

With that, I told him I certainly understood and departed in a daze. Once in my car, with several errands to run, I found myself driving the wrong direction, having to make U-turns, traveling less than the speed limit or taking chances entering the free way. I was relieved to arrive at home and immediately began deep cleaning—drawers, book cases, shelves! I found the activity personally cleansing, distracting and relieving.

When Stan came home, I told him that I was not feeling well and would not be eating dinner. I wanted him to keep a 5:30 medical appointment and have his dinner before confronting him with the golden chain. By the time we began our after dinner conversation, I was a total mess! I blurted out the story and watched his reaction closely. He looked confused and denied knowing anything about the store, the chain or Ricardo’s estimate.

OK, here we have a call from a jewelry story to my home, asking for my husband by name, saying he had his estimate on the jewelry and my husband tells me he knew nothing about any of it! It was a long night. Stan and I cuddled and spoke of our love for each other. He could not explain what had occurred and I could not accept his response. I was delighted, however, over his suggested solution to go to the store at opening the next day to confront Ricardo!

We arrived at “ La Plata” the next morning at 9:45 am. We took two cars because I had a 10:00 am appointment. The sign on the door read: “Open 10:30 am.” We decided to meet there again after lunch. Due to Stan’s willingness to investigate the situation with me, I was feeling comfortable that there had to be a strange but plausible answer.

Stan entered the store first so that I could see if I felt Ricardo recognized him. Stan began by forcefully asking to see the jewelry invoice and inquiring if Ricardo had ever seen him before. Helpfully, rapidly and somewhat nervously, the diminutive jeweler reacted to Stan’s demands. The receipt simply said, “Stanley” and our phone number. Ricardo said that he did not know Stanley’s last name but that he had come into the store several times. And that my Stanley was not his customer!

My big 6’3” man, Stan, wanted to know why and how little Ricardo had our telephone number on the receipt and who had printed my name on the “Accepted by:” line. After some discussion, it turned that Ricardo had printed my name (when I showed him my telephone number) and that his “5s” always look somewhat like “3s”! Noting this, Ricardo phoned our number exchanging the 3 for a 5 and a machine stating the other Stanley’s full name responded! It was a strange, true and relieving explanation to this very hurtful yet educating experience.

So where and how does self-esteem fit into this totally true story? With low self esteem, Stan would have been livid that I could consider his betrayal as a possibility. He would have been angry and unwilling to investigate the incident. Had I had low self-esteem, I would have never believed there was any rational explanation for this bizarre occurrence. I would have been hysterical, accusative, unwilling to listen or even consider any answer other than infidelity. Though very hurt, sad, concerned and confused, we both were willing and anxious to find the truth. We are now even closer than before...

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