Becky

ME: "Bless me, Becky, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession."

BECKY: "What happened this time?"

ME: "I don't know. I don't think I have a good excuse. When I do it, I always tell myself that it's not that bad. That I deserve it and I just can't help myself."

BECKY: "I know. Go on."

ME: "This time it was as if they were staring at me, calling my name. I couldn't leave them there. I think they needed me as much as I needed them."

BECKY: "How much?"

ME: "$79.99, but they used to be $164...that's like half off right?"

BECKY: "It's reasonable. What do they look like?"

ME: "Remember those orange leather wedges we saw with the braided straw heel?"

BECKY: "No way!?"

ME: "I know right? I just don't know if I can justify it."

BECKY: "Oh, orange goes with everything and once it stops raining, Summer will be right around the corner. I bet you they go really well with jeans."

ME: "They totally go with jeans. They also go with this halter dress I saw but I didn't get. I want to go back."

BECKY: "When?"

ME: "I don't know, what are you doing after work?"

(END SCENE)

Guilt is deeply seeded within my moral register. Thirteen + years (including Kindergarten and college) of Catholic school will do that. Which is why I find it poetic and somewhat entertaining that I confess my deepest darkest secrets to a runaway, coffee-drinking Mormon: Becky. She understands me. She doesn't judge me. I can freely confide in her when I blow through money earmarked for debt reduction on a pair of cognac-colored riding boots without being reprimanded. She will aid and abet me in ordering enough to reach the minimum spending requirement for free shipping when I purchase online. She will even allow me to ship packages to her house so certain individuals will be none the wiser to my clandestine activities. Some would say that she is enabling me in my addiction but I choose to look at it another way, that sometimes true friendship is defined by co-conspiracy. Someone needs to cover your back when the po-po's on your tail. Every girl needs someone who will be on her side when she's in the trenches, my someone is Becky.
This necklace is for Becky. A multi-faceted turquoise bead bridged across gold chain because she sees all my facets; bad, guilty, mischievous, insidious, and occasionally good.

J.R.

Shhhhh! I think I have a girl crush. I love everything about J.R. Firstly, she effortlessly plays this indie-rocker-chick vibe that is just insanely enchanting: ballet flats, skinny jeans, black eyeliner, and feathered headbands. Very fashionable and very trendy but the way she wears it, you would think the trend originated with her. Secondly, I've never seen a day when her hair was not perfect. Even when it's messy, it's fantastic. In fact, I think it's better when it's messy.Thirdly, she has done the impossible and made karaoke cool in my book with her side of a duet of the best rendition of Endless Love that I have ever heard. (No offense to Ms. Ross.) Fourthly, she's wicked smart and has intentions to change the world for the better. Last summer, she flew to France for an internship with the International Human Rights Council. She sent back super chic, black-and-white artsy pictures of her being very European like riding a bicycle through the streets of Strasbourg in a skirt. This list goes on but I think the most fascinating thing is that she is actually my friend. I don't even think she knows how star-struck I feel around her. I was afraid to tell her because I thought it might make things a bit awkward. For instance, there was this time we were up in the city celebrating when I went outside to get some relief from the hot party air and I saw her with a cigarette. I normally do not condone this type of behavior in other people but she was just so beautiful haloed in streetlight illuminated smoke, that I "bummed" a cancer-stick off another friend and started smoking too. She made a comment, while still complimentary, amounted to the effect that it was very strange that I should have a cigarette in my hand. Color me caught in the act! I shall never smoke again. These earrings are my abstract of J.R.'s smokey halo. Three gray glass teardrops ever so slightly prismatic that are angled on silver circles so they flitter in response to her motion. I gave them to J.R. for her birthday on her last night in San Francisco. She lives in New York now. *Sigh*