Remember when you gave me the Mayan jade earrings?
It was the Friday before Christmas ’05. We agreed to meet at your place before you left to the Bay later that evening. Since we wouldn’t see each other on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, we’d be exchanging gifts that evening. In your brightly lit bedroom full of books and replicas of Mesoamerican artifacts, we nervously argued over who should go first. You went first and handed me a box small enough to fit in my open palm.
When I opened the box, I didn’t seem too jazzed. My face — always my enemy in these situations — gave me away. Perhaps any girl who opens a small box containing anything aside from a diamond ring would’ve reacted the same. Of course, I wasn’t expecting a diamond ring. After all, we’d only been dating for six months. I wasn’t quite wifey material.
I told you that evening and several times later that I did like the earrings. I meant it, I’ve never been a good liar. The dark green jade felt nice in my fingers, incredibly smooth. They looked nice hanging from my ears too. Still, I rarely wore them. You never failed to point that out.
I had excuses. Good ones too. I didn’t have much in my closet that went well with Mayan jade. And they were heavy. I could only wear them for a few hours before my lobes started to hurt.
I wore the earrings yesterday. For the first time ever, I didn’t have to take them off half way through the day.