Pearls

My grandfather gave them to my mother on her wedding day.

Many women show up at the office with them around their necks shortly after getting married. Maybe it is a common thing for a bride to get pearls for her wedding. I don’t know much about what is common and not and am always having to ask my older sister.

My mother gave me pearls when I was fifteen shortly after my father died. It sort of made sense at the time. Like it was my consolation prize. You will not be getting these from him when you get married, nor will he be walking you down the aisle or teaching you to drive, all of which is unfortunate and so we will forgo the wait and give them to you now. How’s that? That better? Uh, okay, thanks.

They stayed in my mom’s top dresser drawer while I went away to college and then when I moved to Seattle. Now I am back in the same state as my pearls and I take them out of my mom’s dresser sometimes when I go to work in the same building where my father used to work, which, oddly enough, overlooks his grave.

I am twenty-six now and am realizing how things have been complicated for me as a result of my father’s death. I have come to think that it is quite appropriate that I got my string of pearls when I did.

I have not consulted with my mother on why I got my pearls when I did. I think maybe she had some money after the funeral and didn’t know what to do with it and maybe it was cheaper if you buy 3 strands at once (one for me and one for each of my two sisters). Maybe it was simply that she knew that my oldest sister would be getting married soon and that my other sister and I would be bridesmaids and so we should all have pearls to wear. Maybe I would have gotten them at that time anyway. My mother is much more into thrift than symbolism.

Different Strokes

Amazing. Last night I was on my way to a party with my housemate who is very much a dude. I was driving and halfway there he asks me if I think they will have food. I say probably just snacks. He calls the host of the party to ask if there will be food. I try to stop him. (Oh my god! What will the host think!) I try to urge him to call someone else who we think will be there. Preferring to go straight to the source, he calls and asks the host, “Hey, man, do you have food there?” “No, man, just munchies.” “Okay see you soon.” “Yeah.” Click. We stop at jimmy johns. My housemate orders a sandwich, holds the mayo and tomato and replaces with sprouts and mustard. We show up at the party way way way further out in the burbs than I have ever been before. There is a long folding table with every sort of booze imaginable, tons of wine, and a keg of Sam Adams and then various snacks throughout the kitchen such as egg rolls, taquitos, crackers, various cheeses, cream cheese with jelly on top, chips, guacamole, salsa and other dips.

What is most remarkable about all of this is that my housemate had no shame in calling the host to ask if there will be food for him, and the host had no shame in saying the food that we have here will not suffice as dinner for you. There is no apology or self-consciousness on either part. The host doesn’t try to satisfy my housemate and suggest that perhaps he could eat enough tacquitos to make a meal. He just says we don’t have food (even though there was so much food). In the car, my housemate had unabashedly slurped down the sandwich and said, “That hit the spot.” Then at the party he chows down on the munchies and there are no thoughts of “I really shouldn’t.” Just, “Hey man, awesome tacquitos.”

I am awestruck by the whole thing. Largely because of my complicated relationship with food. And because of my fear of offending anyone or making anyone feel bad, which is usually my guiding principle in social situations. It was fascinating to watch my housemate operate without the shadow of either food issues or people-pleasing tendencies. It was frustrating too. Why am I strapped down by all this self-consciousness and he is just waltzing through life happy as a clam? The difference between us is self-awareness, and I know that, most often, it is a virtue. It is better to go through life aware of yourself and questioning the world around you and your place in it rather than obliviously bumbling about. But sometimes it is a drag to be under constant self-evaluation.

The party was fine. I kept finding myself in pleasant enough conversations and marveling at my social skills that had gone unused for weeks. But there was so much taupe there. There was one point where I wanted to stand up on a chair and say, “If you are wearing something from Banana Republic, take it off and put it in this pile.” Then everyone would be naked and we would have a big pile of various shades of taupe clothing made in China.