As You Like It: Pearls of wisdom

I’m not a woman who is overly fond of gold or jewels. My favorite jewelry is usually made of silver with an unusual stone like an onyx or a carnelian. Not for me are diamonds and emeralds — I’m a cheap date. But despite that fact the most cherished items in my jewelry box are my pearl earrings. I’ve had them for so long that I can’t even remember exactly when I got them. What I do remember, though, is that my mom bought them for me when I got my ears pierced in junior high, and I still love them after all these years.

I wear them every week, and every week when I put them on or take them off while looking in the bathroom mirror, I always manage to drop one in the sink and nearly lose it down the drain. And each time I catch it and say to myself, “I really should stop doing this. One day I’m going to lose them.” Then the next time I do it all over again.

I’ve lost jewelry before, thanks to my stupidity, so you’d think I’d learn. In high school everyone was wearing scaled down gold, cocktail rings with tiny stones. I begged my parents to get one for me and after all my nagging they finally gave in. I absolutely loved that ring and I showed it off every day. That was when we wore our jeans so tight that we had to lie down on the bed to zip them up — so tight that we could barely fit our hands inside our pockets.

One day when I was wearing both the ridiculous jeans and the coveted ring, Mom noticed that I took my ring off to fish something out of my pocket. She warned me not to do that because I would certainly put the ring down somewhere and forget it. I solemnly promised that I would never do such a stupid thing — and then of course I did it.

I was out with some friends buying something at a store and reached into my pocket to get my money and — you guessed it — took the ring off and put it on the counter. I left without remembering to put the ring back on. Later that day, when I realized what I had done, I raced back to the store praying that some nice, honest saleslady had found it and put it away. If I had wished for the moon I would have gotten it sooner than my ring. I was afraid to tell my parents, so I didn’t say anything hoping they wouldn’t notice. But of course they did and eventually the story came out. I had only had the ring for a few weeks, but my finger felt so empty without it. All these years later I still remember it.

So it almost made sense that when the day came that I finally did lose my pearl earring down the drain, the first thing I thought was, “How am I going to tell my parents?” Then I remembered that while I wasn’t a teenager anymore, I was still stupid. “When will you ever learn?” I yelled at myself.

I wondered if it was possible to get it out of the drain, but I knew I couldn’t attempt it myself, so I had to wait until Steve had finished tutoring his last student. I spent the hour alternately thinking that I was being an idiot and that I should just go to the jewelry store and get myself another pair of earrings and knowing that I wanted my old pair, the one that Mom had given me. Finally, when Steve came into the bedroom, I looked at him like a forlorn puppy and asked him if he could do anything.

“No problem,” he said. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

I couldn’t believe that I was that lucky. I had already resigned myself to buying a new pair, but now my Sir Galahad was going to get me the earring I really wanted. It was getting late and I was exhausted, but I sat on the bed and watched my husband do all kinds of exciting plumber-like stuff. It seemed to take a long time and I began telling him that it wasn’t worth it, but he kept insisting that it would be fine. And it probably would have been if the trap plug hadn’t come off the drain pipe.

I knew all was not well when I heard an expletive followed by, “Now we have to call a plumber.” And it was downhill from there. I assumed that I could use the sink in the main bathroom to brush my teeth but then found out that the sinks were connected when there was a flood in my bathroom. Steve cleaned up the mess while I sat there crying with tired frustration while telling myself that I should have just gone out and bought some new earrings.

The next day our friendly plumber, Bob, came out and fixed the trap. I suppose I should have been happy; after all, I had my earrings and the sink was fixed. But looking at the bill I realized that those were the most expensive earrings that I would be getting in a long while. I should really start listening to myself.

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Posted by Joan Florek Schottenfeld on Mar 11 2010. Filed under As You Like It, Opinion. Both comments and pings are currently closed.