Months before Christmas my fate was sealed, but I was unaware. I watched those jewelry store ads, every store, every day, advertising the same “Journey” diamond necklace. Each time I watched a commercial, I remarked to whichever family member was present, “Just think…on Christmas morning, 50 million American women are going to wake up with that in their stocking or wrapped up prettily under the tree.”
I said it with a sneer in my voice, making fun. Don’t get me wrong…I think the necklace is beautiful. It is just not for me, someone who has not graced her aging neck with adornment since about age twenty-five. Earrings I can do, necklaces are off-limits.
When my husband of thirty years inquired about what I wanted for Christmas, I asked that he pay my next semester’s tuition, which he dutifully did. I considered that enough, actually more than, but figured that just in case he had some money left I should make it known that what I would really like is a better digital camera—a Nikon D40 more precisely.
A week before Christmas a strangely shaped package appeared under the tree, apparently hastily wrapped. It wasn’t large enough to be a camera, yet too large, thankfully, for jewelry of any kind. The shape of it reminded me of a kitchen canister, and when I shook it, it sounded and felt like dog bones. We don’t have a pet.
Until Christmas morning actually came, I didn’t give my one present a great deal of thought. I watched, smiling as the kids and other adults in our overly full house opened their gifts, ooing and ahing. Soon enough, everyone was done, and it was time to open mine.
Hmmm…a large container of York Peppermint Patties. Just what my hips needed. I laughed, but as I sat the canister down, I noticed an unmistakable little black jewelry box inside and my heart lurched—knowing what was coming. I acted as if I had not seen it, and went about cleaning up the holiday debris.
“Don’t you want some mints?” my husband asked. Hell, no I didn’t, at least not what they were camouflaging. He stomped off, and it wasn’t long before my sister cornered me. “OPEN the mints,” she commanded in an angry whisper.
It was time to face the music. I opened the mints, removed the TWO little black boxes and opened them. There they were in all their glory; a “Journey” diamond necklace and matching earrings. I admit, they were pretty, but the chain was so fragile I was afraid to even remove it from the board it was affixed to. I decided not to. “Thank you,” I managed, without much enthusiasm, and stalked off to begin peeling potatoes for our afternoon dinner for fifteen.
A half pan of cubed potatoes later, my daughter approached with her three-hour-old Kodak EasyShare camera. As I shielded my face from the flash she said, “The lens won’t go back in.”
“Did you drop it?” I wisely asked.
“Yes, but only from the bed to the floor. Not very far.”
My sister had followed her into the kitchen. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you that part,” Sis confessed.
I fumed, but bit my lip before I could say something I would later regret, and set about gathering the camera paraphernalia for return. I removed the memory card I had purchased, but could not find the tiny one that came with it.
Resigned to my fate, I gathered the trash bags and boxes from the living room and began sorting through paper and ribbons piece by piece. “Are you sure it came with a card?” my brother-in-law asked, helping me sort.
“No,” I replied. “But I think she may have handed me one when I went to install the bigger card.” If she did, I had probably thrown it away with the package the new one came in, while ruminating over the jewelry I didn’t want to open. That meant it was in the kitchen trash; the can I was using for mass food preparation.
One by one I picked through the quickly browning potato peelings. In the process, I broke open a coffee filter and aromatic grounds sprinkled themselves over the remaining three-quarters of trash in the can. Now picking through peelings was particularly fun. I found the memory card package, but no card.
As exciting as all this subterfuge and searching was, the best was yet to come. The adults in my family had drawn names at Thanksgiving and we opened our gifts after dinner. My sister had drawn my name, and I had picked out my own gift while we were shopping together weeks before.
I tried to open it quietly so no one would see what it was, but bigmouth Sis announced the contents. “Look at the bracelet Linda got!” It was a very plain, modern, inexpensive sterling silver square design. I guess I forgot to mention earlier here that I like some bracelets too. Just not necklaces.
Here it came. “So…you like the jewelry Susan got you, but not what I bought?” My husband actually pouted, not unexpectedly. I had tried to avoid this. Really, I had.
At my month-late surprise fiftieth birthday party back in the spring, I thought I had made it abundantly clear that necklaces would never again enhance my tree-ringed, flabby neck. I stressed this after opening a very young-looking blue heart pendant, a very pretty charm from a husband who apparently thinks I have not aged in the last three decades.
It took some time, but by Christmas Evening, I had soothed all hurt feelings over my “Journey” gift. I was cheerfully slicing up desserts when my daughter walked in.
“Did you like your necklace?” the oblivious one asked. “I’m the one who told Dad to get it for you.”
“Didn’t you notice how I made fun of it every time the commercials came on?” I asked. I was flabbergasted.
“Yeah, but I also noticed a gleam in your eye, like you really wanted it.”
I swear Santa, I was good this past year.
Epilogue:
Best Buy stepped up to the plate and replaced the camera, no questions asked. My brother-in-law opened the new one, and reported that there WAS NO memory card included.
I noticed my youngest sister fondling the “Journey” jewelry that night, looking at it orgasmically. I am the weirdo.
My husband finally returned it, and bought me a couple of more appreciated gifts—a comfy lapdesk for my laptop, which I am currently typing happily on, and the new Eagles CD.
I only managed to eat approximately twenty-five York Peppermint Patties, but who’s counting.
loramae
Love your humor in this…sounds like a great, close knit family…what fun digging in that trash can…had me laughing! Thank you for sharing!
linda lowry replied
Glad it had you laughing, especially after your more thoughtful post.
Karen Helgesen
Linda, you and I must have been separated at birth! I felt as if I was reading something I would’ve written! I am 53 years YOUNG (thank you very much) and have never worn more than one item of jewelry at a time, usually earrings. I rarely wear necklaces. Some women can carry them off beautifully, (along with the matching earrings and bracelets and broaches) but not me. It makes me feel cluttered.
Many years ago the diamond in my engagement ring popped out. I retrieved the stone and put it away, relieved that I no longer had to wear two rings at one time. For my birthday the following year I too opened a strange looking gift from my husband. In my jewelry ignorance I thought the flat rectangular leather ‘thingie’ was a purse! An odd looking one, but it would have made a nice clutch bag for all those swanky evenings spent at endless cocktail parties. Our girls laughed at my disarming naivety and told me to open it. There it was. My diamond, newly installed on a golden chain. I burst into tears, not because I was longing for it, but because it was so thoughtful. I rarely wore it ( I usually wear silver, not gold!) but took it on a cruise one year. It was a Christmas cruise made possible by a settlement with the hospital that had left a surgical instrument in me (which is true and a rather funny story.) My necklace was stolen on that cruise. I have never told my husband.
Well, this is the most lengthy comment I have ever written! I enjoyed your story very much! You sound like someone I could become very good friends with.
linda lowry replied
Good heavens..your comment is as long as the story, but I enjoyed YOUR tale….LOL. I originally posted this just after the fact at at the fanstory site where I used to write, and you would not believe how many of us jewelry phobics there are who agreed with me. The ones who read and didn’t comment, well, I figure they got that Journey necklace for Christmas and loved it, and were incredibly offended by the tale…LOL.
I can’t believe you didn’t tell your husband about the loss, but then I can. Heck…if he is anything like mine, he would replace the stupid thing.
I would like to see that story about your cruise via lawsuit story written up. Sounds like a hoot.
I haven’t posted much here on Red Bubble yet, mainly because I haven’t written a thing lately, way too much homework. Have to be careful what I post anyway, because hubby READS IT ALL on the Fanstory site. Not sure if he enjoys his anonymous notariety, or is just checking to make sure I don’t embellish anything. He hasn’t found this place yet, so I am safe here;-)
Thanks so much for your encouraging comments…Linda