After the Locket

After the Locket

‘B ELLA,’

I SAY

as I sit beside her on the bench in the afternoon sun.

‘Yes?’ she says as she turns very slowly, like she’s a wise old owl who is about to dispense some sage advice.

‘I’ve come to something of a conclusion,’ I tell her.

Her face changes. ‘No, Eddie, you can’t give up. I won’t allow it.’

‘It’s not that I’m giving up,’ I tell her. ‘Really.’

‘Really?’

‘It’s not giving up if you’re satisfied with your lot.’

‘Your lot?’

I take Bridie’s locket from my inside jacket pocket and I hand it to her, the gold shining in the sun. ‘I’ve been searching for this almost as long as I’ve been looking for my first kiss,’ I tell her.

Bella takes the locket and turns it over in her hands. She opens the clasp and sees the photograph of Ferris. ‘Oh, look at him!’ she says. ‘What a floofy boy!’

‘His name was Ferris,’ I tell her, and she looks at me, ever more intrigued.

‘And how do you know that?’ she asks.

‘Lift the picture,’ I tell her and, carefully, she does.

And there they are. Seeing them again sends a whole new thrill into my body.

E.W

.

Bella turns to me.

‘Is this Bridie’s?’ she asks.

I nod.

‘So, you see,’ I tell her, ‘I can call off the search.’

‘You can?’

‘If I’m in Bridie Bennett’s heart, that’s enough for me.’