Gilda's Locket (2 page)

Gilda sighed with longing as she carefully
trimmed Eldon’s face out of the picture, leaving behind the tiny
tree, the armchair, and the little table. Then, removing the locket
for the first time that day, she slipped the picture inside;
carefully pressing the edges to make sure it would stay locked
tight within. And blowing a kiss to her dear Eldon, she snapped the
locket tight decisively. Time for bed. Minutes after she had laid
the locket on the bedside table and snapped off the light, she was
asleep.

The dream started a bit fuzzy, then developed
into a clearer picture as it went on, becoming so real even she had
trouble believing it had all just been a dream.

“How about hot chocolate instead of coffee?”
Eldon was asking her. She was a bit startled, somewhere in the back
of her mind she knew there was something wrong with this picture;
she wasn’t sure what it was though. Befuddled as she was, he must
have thought she had been suddenly struck deaf because he repeated,
though a bit louder, “Hot chocolate, Gilda? Instead of coffee?”

“What? Oh- I uh-” what was wrong with her?
Giving herself a mental shake she said, “Yes, dear. Whatever you
like.”

“Oh, I like both,” Eldon assured her in a
conversational tone. He apparently didn’t find anything awry in the
scenario. “It’s just that lately the coffee seems to bother my
stomach a bit.”

His stomach… There was something about his
stomach. But she couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Anyway, I thought, with the holidays and
all, hot chocolate might be nice. Maybe put a little candy cane
inside,” he grinned at her hopefully. He seemed to notice her
consternation because the grin suddenly faded. “Gilda, dear, are
you all right?”

Snapping to, she forced a bright smile, “Of
course, Eldon, just thinking. Nothing important.”

He rose from the squatting position he had
attained while plugging in the Christmas lights; at his ripe old
age it was a feat that was nothing short of miraculous; flipped the
switch on the wall nearby, and the little Christmas tree sparkled
brilliantly at them. Thirty-five white twinkle bulbs blinked at
them, celebrating the holiday in the way only they can.

“It’s beautiful, Eldon.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He stepped over to her,
slipped an arm around her shoulders, an arm that even after all
these years, bore more strength than hers ever had.

She kissed his wrinkled cheek, and then
leaned her head onto his shoulder, a habit that had started when
they were very young, and neither he nor she had ever tired of.

“Maybe Scott will come this year,” she
murmured.

She felt Eldon tighten just the slightest
bit, for only a second, and then he relaxed again. “Maybe,” his
response was noncommittal as usual when it came to this particular
topic.

Not wanting to ruin the mood, Gilda quickly
changed the subject. “Two cups of steaming hot chocolate, one with
a candy cane (he knew she detested peppermint), coming right up.”
She headed off to the kitchen, humming some Christmas carol, unsure
which one, as after all these years they all seemed to have blended
and become one.

Eldon stayed behind and she heard him flip on
the television. No doubt looking for the news, or possibly the
history channel. Once in a very great while he would watch sports,
and that was primarily baseball, though not enough that you could
call him a sports fanatic.

Gilda rummaged around the kitchen, filling
the kettle with water and putting it on to boil. She had long ago
given up the saucepan method of making hot chocolate from scratch
and reverted to the powder packets. Eldon had sworn, and still did
to this day, that they tasted virtually the same as the longer
method, but she was confident he was just trying to save her the
trouble since her hands were not as adequate as they had once been.
The fright they’d suffered a few years before when her shaking
hands had dropped a pot of scalding milk had been more than enough
to send him to the store to buy pre-made packets telling her the
little Swiss girl could do all the work.

He was a wonderful man, her Eldon. Lord only
knew what life would have been like without him. Not worth living,
and that was for sure. At the thought she felt a sudden strange
twinge that she couldn’t explain away. Once again she had the
feeling that something wasn’t quite right, but once again, she just
couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

She returned to the living room a few moments
later, with a tray laden down with two cups of steaming, hot
chocolate and some vanilla wafers to boot. Eldon responded with the
delight she had expected and her smile grew wider as they sat in
the two arm chairs on either side of the round end table, sharing
the cookies, and sipping their cocoa. There was nothing that could
replace these quiet nights at home, just the two of them this way.
She couldn’t imagine life without it. They spent the evening this
way, as they had so many others over the years. Chatting about life
in general, chatting about the new neighbors moving in just up the
road, chatting about whatever came on the TV, and before long it
was late. Later than they were used to, but that didn’t matter.
With Eldon retired and her only working three times a week, bedtime
wasn’t a ritual they needed to keep as strictly anymore. What did
they have to get up for anyway? They could sleep in as long as they
liked. Life was good she decided as they finally headed off to bed.
Exhausted as she was, she was unable to fall asleep right away. She
just lay in the dark, listening to Eldon’s rhythmic breathing and
watching the shadows cast on the walls by the streetlamps outside.
Eventually she drifted into a deep slumber, her fingers caressing
her locket.

Locket? What locket? She awoke with a start
to find herself alone in the bedroom, the locket clasped tightly in
her hands which were pressed firmly against her breast. Her heart
ached with sudden longing and it was everything she could do to
keep from sobbing.

The next few days and nights were much the
same. Her days were spent as usual putting books away at the
library, helping students find resources, and checking books in and
out. Her nights were spent in dreams. No, not dreams precisely.
Dream. Only the one dream, every night, without fail. Each time it
was completely identical to the time before. It was after the
fourth such night that she began to get suspicious. Still, it took
the fifth before she was finally able to convince herself to test
her hypothesis. She may be an old woman, but she did not believe
she was dotty. At least, not yet. Either way, what did it hurt to
prove, or disprove as the case may be, her theory?

That night, Friday night to be precise, she
pulled out the albums once again. This time she dug deeper into the
pile, finding one of the oldest she owned. She hadn’t looked in the
album for more than twenty years. Normally, she would find the
experience quite depressing, after all, everyone captured in time
by the photographs were long since deceased. Naturally, very
depressing. Still, she perused the album, finally choosing an old
sepia toned picture, circa 1945. It had been her tenth birthday.
That was about the most she could remember about that particular
picture, and that only because of the dress she was wearing. Unlike
the everyday dresses she wore back then, this one was flouncy and
ruffled, with pink satin bows on each of the puffy sleeves, and a
large pink ribbon wrapped around her waist. She thought it ended
with a large bow in the back, but she couldn’t remember.

Carefully, it felt more like destruction than
anything else considering the age of the picture, she trimmed out
the picture of herself, and with a twinge of regret, she replaced
the one of Eldon in the locket.

If she had set out to disprove her theory,
she was to be sadly disappointed. That night, Gilda dreamt of her
tenth birthday party with amazing clarity. The vivid colors, colors
she shouldn’t have remembered so many years later with only a sepia
toned picture to go by; the taste of her birthday cake, heavy and
somewhat floury, baked by her mother the night before; her
presents- mostly useful things like socks and tablets for school,
but Barney! She had completely forgotten about him! It was her
teddy bear; the first and only she had ever owned. She had proudly
named him Barney after her favorite uncle who had given it to her,
and she had cherished it beyond all things. She thought she may
still have that bear, packed away somewhere in the attic, though
nowhere near the pristine condition he was in now. His satin bow
still a bright green color, the fabric and stitching on the pads of
his paws unblemished, his fur completely intact and not careworn.
It was amazing.

She awoke that morning, clutching the locket
as always, nearly breathless by the reality of the dream before.
What did it all mean? Could it really be true? Or was her brain,
after years of use, finally skipping a few synapses? She made the
decision then and there to further test her hypothesis. But how? If
she continued on the way she had been it would certainly take far
too long? Night after night, with the only long, endless day
bridging the gap between. It was difficult at best to get through
the day, without knowing, that only a few hours later she could be
in bed, reliving her happiest moments in life. At least for a few
hours.

It wasn’t until halfway between her normal
breakfast of weak coffee and buttered toast that she realized it
was Saturday. She had the whole weekend in front of her. Daunting
to say the least. If the days were long at the library, they were
even longer at home. No errands to run, no excuses to get out and
about, and no one to care for but herself. She supposed that was
why old ladies had cats; it was something to occupy their time.

She quickly bathed and dressed, then fussed
with her hair for a minute. Then, she sat in front of the
television, flipping channels. Nothing on, there never was. Not
that it really mattered, with her mind as preoccupied as it was.
Jumping up, or as close to jumping as a woman her age could manage
anyway, she made a snap decision. Without giving a moment to think,
or more importantly, change her mind, she slipped into a
lightweight jacket, slid on her shoes, and carefully locking the
house behind her, she climbed into the car. Minutes later she
arrived at her destination, the local pharmacy. She spent a few
minutes perusing the aisles, trying to determine what other things
she might need. She did not care to arouse suspicions. A woman her
age couldn’t just walk into a small town pharmacy and purchase a
couple bottles of sleeping pills without people talking. Finally,
deciding on cotton balls, hand lotion, and a few other odds and
ends in which to “hide” the pills, she headed up to the front
counter. She struck up a conversation with the girl behind the
register, a young college student she was familiar with from the
library. Her attempts at diversion were completely unnecessary,
because what she could remember of the girl, college student or
not, she was a bit of an empty kettle.

She had returned home within the hour, and
after unpacking the bags of unneeded items and storing them away,
she left the pills on the counter. She eyed them warily. It was
hard telling what they would do an elderly person. She’d never
taken anything like this in her life, over-the-counter or not.
Squaring her shoulders she returned to the living room once more,
where once again she perused the albums. It wasn’t as simple as one
would think, picking just the right picture. A picture captures a
single moment in time, not the moments before or after, so
remembering precisely what was going on at that time was tricky to
say the least. Certainly, when the picture was taken the subjects
were smiling happy smiles, but that didn’t necessarily mean
everything was fine and dandy ten minutes later. It was a lesson
she learned the hard way.

She had chosen a picture of Eldon, Scott, and
herself. She remembered the day, or at least she thought she had.
They had been picnicking at a local park. It was a bright, sunny
summer day. What could be more enjoyable than that? Scott had been
roughly ten years old and had a look of glee on his face. He was
clutching the new racing boat his father had bought for him at the
five and dime in anticipation of taking it on its maiden voyage in
the pond. Eldon, looking a bit tired, with a few worry lines around
his eyes, smiled down at the boy, and she had one hand on Scott’s
shoulder, the other looped around Eldon’s neck. If she had looked a
little closer at herself she may have realized, but time plays
tricks and memory is a slippery thing.

Back in the kitchen she filled a glass with
water, and after reading the label cut the dosage in half, taking
only one of the pills and forcing the entire glass of water down
her throat. Refilling the glass, in case she should need it later,
she took it, and one of the bottles of sleeping pills (whatever had
possessed her to buy two?) into the bedroom with her. These she
placed on the bedside table. Then, drawing the drapes, she laid
down on the bed, clutching her locket to her chest. She felt her
breathing become more rhythmic, her eyelids grow droopy, and before
long she was sound asleep.

The dream was fuzzy at first, like always,
and then it came around with astounding clarity. There she was,
unpacking the picnic basket onto a red checkered cloth. She
remembered having purchased the cloth the day before for just this
occasion. Eldon looked on from his seated position leaning against
an oak tree. Scott scampered around the picnic area, his boat
clutched in his hands. He performed a series of sideways skips, his
feet landing slightly closer to the cloth each time.

“Now, Mama? Please, now? Just for a little
bit. I’ll come right back when it’s time to eat. I promise.”