Making Jewelry

On Wednesday afternoons Sarah and I do crafts. It’s a sacred friendship activity that we always make time for, basically no matter what else is up. Today we’re making beaded bracelets with beautiful stone beads. The beads feel cool to the touch as I string onto elastic. Sarah is in a good mood, humming along to the indie playlist in the background. “Pass me the green ones”, I say and Sarah hands me the green stone beads. 

We’re sitting at the dining room table. The wood grain of the dark wood complements the beads that are strewn all over it. It’s a beautiful chaotic mess. “How is your bracelet coming”, Sarah asks me. “I’m not sure”, I say, holding up the bracelet for her to inspect. “It’s not quite right yet. What do you think?” Sarah ponders the half-finished bracelet. “Try different spacer beads”, she advises. I start rummaging around in the box full of spacer beads. We have quite the bead collection.  Sarah is making a wooden bracelet, which she might give to Nate. She holds it up. “What do you think?” she asks. “I think he’ll like it.” I say, and smile.

I met Nate and Sarah for the first time at the official reception happy hour for the psychology graduate program. It was a pretty fancy affair, with formal wear and champagne in tall flutes, handed out by a middle aged member of the faculty. A subtle form of initiation into official adulthood. In undergrad you drink beer, from plastic cups, away from the prying eyes of teachers. I felt nervous, and out of place.

Nate was one of two men in our class otherwise made up of women. That’s psychology grad school for you. He looked boyish with his clean shaven face and lanky limbs. His blond hair was cut short, and his large, long-lashed blue eyes were beautiful, or would have been called beautiful if he had been a woman. His gaze was sweet and a little bit mesmerizing. He had the habit, as I would learn in time, of keeping long eye contact, making women fall for him.

Sarah finishes the bracelet for Nate and I help her glue the knot into one of the beads. “Do you remember the day we first met Nate?” I ask. Sarah raises a surprised eyebrow. “Yeah,” she says. “At the grad school reception.” I nod. “I remember that old building.” she says. I snort. “Yeah, I remember that building.” Tolman Hall. A brutalist building, all weathered concrete and square windows. They’ve demolished it since, and replace it with a modern building almost entirely made out of glass. “I kinda miss that ugly old building.” I say. Sarah smiles. “What makes you think of that day?” she asks. I shrug. “I was thinking of the necklace you were wearing that day.”

Sarah was there, that day, as I walked in, talking to two other women. She waved me over immediately, to include me in their conversation. I felt grateful. I remember her outfit: A classy blue-ish cocktail dress emphasizing her height and curves. And a large, chunky necklace made out of seaglass and shells. I remember thinking that I had never met anybody who’d wear a necklace like that to a fancy party. It somehow made her look like a sea goddess. Otherworldly.

“Do you miss grad school?” I ask Sarah. She shrugs and thinks. “Sometimes”, she says slowly. “I miss learning new things all the time.” I nod. She continues. “But it’s also nice not to study so much all the freaking time. And to have some actual money.” I nod again. It is nice to be making some actual money. “Do you miss it?” Sarah asks, while stringing more beads on a transparent string. She’s moved on to making a second bracelet. This one has grey and pink stone beads, a perfect combination.

I do miss the feeling of grad school a little. Or a lot, actually. That sense of being received by the hallowed halls of academia. Of being part of an elite institution, dedicated to the scientific advancement of mankind. The social status of being the hand-selected best and brightest, the embodiments of potential. I miss feeling like we’re on our way up. Like we’re somehow unstoppable. I feel young, as I think about it, and old, at the same time.