Your Earring Back

A small, shiny gold object caught my eye on a hot summer evening while I was riding the Q train uptown. It was crowded and I was feeling a bit uncomfortable with my fractured elbow resting in its sling. I was desperate for some rest and a cold ice pack. Trying to keep calm and stay cool, I glared at the tiny shiny object and realized it was an earring back. I fixated on it instead of focusing on the high possibility that someone might bump into my elbow.

I wondered what kind of jewelry the earring back fastened to. I pictured it being a small to medium sized diamond stud. Perhaps it was given as a gift by someone special. Had the owner been a young girl or maybe a sophisticated upper east side women? I decided she was a young mid twenty something- the age you are after a few good heart breaks. I imagined her catching the stud on her thumb and clutching the tiny metal bar with her fingers as it fell out of her ear and rolled into the palm of her hand. “Ding” and the subway door opened, the nightmare was coming to an end.

A rush of pushing and shoving led her onto the platform while she pressed her fingers into the palm of her hand as tightly as possible and quickly slipped the small diamond earring into her pocket. The entire walk home, without taking her hand out of her pocket, soft tears warmed her skin. The tears dried, and she entered her apartment both grateful and shocked at how almost losing an earring could carry so much emotional weight.

She called her mother for comfort and to explain what happened. The phone picked up with a “Yes?…” implying that calling was a nuisance. Ignoring the obvious irritation, tears poured out again along with the story of almost losing the precious earring and not being able to find the back of it. “Well, you didn’t lose it. You’re going to be fine. I’m sorry it made you so upset.” The response was cold and dry. She knew better and should have called a friend instead. Feeling more devastated, Annie found an excuse to hang up the phone. Maybe the next time she calls her mom, it will be more nurturing. One can hope right?

Annie’s mom could be the best support in the world and she could also be the worst: gaslighting and dismissing feelings of discomfort. It was always a emotional Russian roulette when dialing her number. She couldn’t help but wish she could replace the ever expanding and contracting hole in her heart that longed for her mother’s consistency with her Aunt Allie who was always there. Allie had given Annie the earrings as a graduation present and was reliably supportive in ways her immediate family system wasn't. She longed to long for Aunt Allie, and not her mother. A mother’s love is unequivocally important, it doesn’t need consistency to feel that important, it just is. It’s a delicate, complicated thing.

Annie held her childhood teddy bear and rested her head on a pillow. The words of a former boss echoed in her mind: “Annie, you have a lonely heart.” She hated that memory and how it sat like a bruise that wouldn’t heal. It was haunting because sometimes it made her feel seen and felt true.

“Ding” and it’s my turn to get off the train. I hurt for Annie. I longed to return the back of her earring; to give her peace of mind back and possibly what was a little piece of love that filled a tiny part of the ever changing hole in her heart. Maybe Annie was mostly fine and got the earrings from a cheap retail store in the city. Maybe she had plenty of earring backs at home. Either way, I made it home without someone further injuring my elbow and I thank Annie for presumed existence, and for keeping me safe and secure…as the earring back once did for her precious earring. I’m Ashley, it’s nice to meet you.