Barriers

With a swing of my hip, I bumped my apartment door shut and kicked off my boots. Chunks of snow plopped wetly onto the mat. Tossing my bags on a chair, I felt more relaxed already as I thought about shedding my suit for a pair of yoga pants.

My cell phone chimed. Irritated, I glanced at the screen. Jason. Really? The guy who couldn’t be bothered to call after our first date, a week ago, now wanted to interrupt my sacred after-work chill time? I jammed my finger down on the button. Bye, Jason.

Pausing at the dresser to take my jewelry off, I looked in the mirror and gasped. My reflection showed me wearing a single earring. The other was missing. My mind raced. When had I seen them last? Neha had complimented me on them, so I was pretty sure I had them when I left work.

Dammit. I wanted to walk back out into that cold air as much as I wanted to be stuck on a crowded subway next to a creep with halitosis.

But they were the earrings Grandma had given me.

“Teddy gave me these,” Grandma had said. “That was before I met your grandfather.” She smiled. “Oh, Teddy was handsome! And so smart. He could make you laugh like nobody could.”

“Why didn’t you marry Teddy?” I’d asked.

Grandma had laughed at my bluntness. Then she sighed, and her blue eyes looked into mine. “Well, honey,” she said, “he was Jewish, and I was Catholic. I know, nowadays that wouldn’t matter so much.” She gazed out the window at the downtown lights. “You know, Dina, sometimes I wish I had told them all to go jump off a bridge and married Teddy anyway.”

I stripped off my suit, hurled it into the hamper, pulled on my yoga pants, zipped on a sweatshirt, and put my coat and scarf back on. The cold front had appeared suddenly, slapping me in the face as I exited my office building, gnawing through my thin wool coat to nip at my bones.

Outside, my eyes moved back and forth across the icy sidewalk, watching for any glint of metal as I retraced my steps back toward the subway.

I didn’t usually wear those special earrings to work. But I’d had a presentation to give that day. The silver filigree and green stones dressed up my outfit so nicely.

Grandma had been giving away her jewelry because “I have more than I can wear!” she declared. “It deserves someone younger to show it off. Not that you need jewelry to be beautiful, Dina doll! But these are perfect for you. The stones match your eyes.” They were so valuable that I protested. “Nope. No objections,” she said. “Just go for it. Wear them and be fabulous!”

My grandfather had passed away the year before, and Grandma was changed. Some women, widowed after decades of marriage, might have withdrawn from the world to nurse their grief. By contrast, Grandma seemed to unfurl like a flag. She and her girlfriends strolled through town, wearing their wide-brimmed hats, eating lunch at fancy restaurants, going out to plays at night, traveling together. Eventually I pinned down the strange feeling I had. It was envy. I envied my own grandmother.

I was in my twenties, unattached. Why couldn’t I be like her? She deserved to be happy, and I was happy for her. What was holding me back? I always had a reason for not going for it, whatever “it” was. Maybe Grandma was right. Maybe I needed to stop getting in my own way.

Bending forward, I squinted in the dimness. Then I saw it. A tiny gleam of silver in a streak of gray slush. I dropped to a squat and my hand leaped out. I started laughing, giddy with relief as I shoved the silver earring back into my bare earlobe.

I didn’t see the dog until its hairy snout kissed my nose. Losing my balance, I tumbled sideways and landed on my butt in a snowbank.

“Jack!” a male voice scolded the dog. “Sorry. Are you okay?” the voice said to me.

I looked up at the outstretched, gloved hand, and at the smiling face above it.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Teddy.”

Teddy?? Feeling a huge smile about to burst forth, I stifled it. Then I changed my mind, grinned, and let him pull me to my feet.   

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Dina.”

Writing Prompt: insulation