a lost earring

I remember buying them.  It was late fall, 1989.  I was at Bergdorf’s, and these were the perfect earrings to go with the black velvet dress, trimmed in gold around the low-neck line, that I had recently bought at a boutique in Soho.

I wanted the evening to be perfect.

I was going to Eric’s biological father’s 50^th birthday.  We had never met.  In fact, Eric had only recently re-connected with him.  At the time, I was 38, Eric was 26, and the father’s girlfriend was about Eric’s age.  It was an odd combination of birth dates.  I was nervous.  I never drink, but I did that night.  Too much, too fast.  I spent most of the evening tucked away in a room passed out with the guests’ coats.

Today, for the first time in many years, I wear the earrings.  I am meeting Gail for brunch at db Bistro Moderne, a David Boulud restaurant, where the burgers are $32.  Gail has invited me as her guest, in celebration of my passing the real estate salesperson exams.  She is a most generous friend.

On the bus ride to the restaurant, one earring falls into my lap.  I go to feel for the other earring and it is gone.  I am sad, particularly for the history it holds.

Gail and I have a spectacular brunch.

Afterwards we see a screening of Scorsese’s new film, Wolf of Wall Street.  Despite its three-hour length, the movie moves quickly, is never boring, and DiCaprio is deserving of an Oscar nomination.

I come home with only one earring, but a new memory; this time, a good one.