Nellie really, really wants me to pierce my ears. I'm not sure why it seems to have become the one great goal of her life--earrings can't have been terribly important to her because her own holes have long since grown closed through lack of use--but to hear her go on, she will die empty and forlorn if she cannot talk me into getting my ears pierced.
Let me try to say this clearly: I have nothing against pierced ears. I do not have a deep-seated aversion to earrings. I am not afraid of the process. I like to see people wearing earrings. My mother and sisters all have pierced ears and look lovely in their various distinct styles. I simply have never felt the inclination to get my own pierced. Nothing more than that--I just don't want to.
All this I have explained to Nellie...again and again and again. She cannot fathom my refusal. When I tell my adopted babushka the simple truth--that I just don't want to pierce my ears--she shakes her head adamantly and insists that such a thing is impossible, illogical, ungrounded. If I do not have a better reason that that, then I have no reason at all. She can be very stubborn. So can I.
And so, though I've left nearly in tears from frustration several times and though she's said at least twice that she will let the subject drop, Nellie keeps coming back to the battle of the dirochky (ear holes). One day I noticed a small white box on her dresser, covered with a piece of paper. Soon Nellie directed me to look inside, and there on a bed of cotton batting lay a pair of blue and white beaded Southwest-style earrings. Very nice. Not something I'd choose for myself, but pretty enough in their own fashion. "Aren't they beautiful?" Nellie demanded. I politely concurred, trying to maintain the right blend of agreement and non-interest, dreading the argument I feared would follow. To my surprise, however, Nellie motioned for me to cover them up again. "What a pity you're ears aren't pierced," she lamented. I could hear the conniving in her voice and knew the matter was not finished.
Sure enough, over the course of the next few weeks her plan became clear: repeated exposure to the exquisite earrings was inevitably going to break down my resistance and finally I would promise to pierce my ears so I might have the privilege of wearing them. The only thing Nellie failed to take into account was that, while I like the beaded baubles well enough in their box, I don't really want them at all. To her dismay, I wasn't even tempted.
Recognizing that I was not going to beg for the earrings no matter how many times she held them enticingly before my eyes, Nellie changed her strategy again. One afternoon, after yet another look under the paper cover, she sighed dramatically and said, "I so much want to give these to someone!" I sighed sympathetically back but refused the bait.
"I'm sure there's someone you can give them to," I offered helpfully.
"But I really want to give them to you!"
I knew that. Still, I had to be firm. "But my ears aren't pierced," I reminded her, "and I'm not going to pierce them."
Her bafflement showed clearly on her face. "But why? I don't understand! Every other woman in the world has pierced ears! Your mother and sisters have pierced ears. Why don't you want to be like everyone else?"
I tried to keep my frustration from bubbling out. "So do you want me to be just like everyone else? Why is it so important to you?"
"I just want to give these earrings to someone who will enjoy them. Right now when people see your ears they think, 'Oh, nothing special.' But if you were wearing these marvelous earrings, they would exclaim, 'Oh, how beautiful!'"
"Well," I shrugged my shoulders, "since every other woman in the world has pierced ears, maybe you should give the earring to one of them."
"But I want to give them to you!" Nellie wailed. Having no more arguments (and very little patience) left, I hugged her and shook my head. "I guess I'll wait," she concluded resignedly. "This year you're thirty-four and you say no. Maybe next year when you're thirty-five...."
It was only a few weeks later that Nellie, with a smug little look on her lovable face, pointed at her dresser where the earring box no longer sat. "What's missing?" she asked me.
"Umm...the earrings?" I guessed, wondering what new plot she had in mind for me.
"Yes, the earrings. They're gone. A girl came to visit me and I gave them to her. She liked them a lot."
"Wonderful!" I was delighted. "I'm sure she did like them. They were very pretty. I'm glad you gave them to someone who will use them."
"You're not upset? It's okay that I gave them away?" Nellie seemed to think she hadn't heard me correctly.
"Of course, you funny lady! Of course I want somebody to enjoy them. It just won't be me."
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