• The Seafarer’s Locket

    The leaves have turned and fallen. The warmth that Sophia had known, for what seemed so short a time faded again. The cold winds wound purposefully outside, walked straight through the walls of the second floor of her home, and somehow found their way to her side, beneath a fortress of quilts.
    The old clock in the sitting room struck three. It had been ages since she had gotten a decent night’s rest. She pulled her feet up close to her body, and in her last effort to sleep she listened to the waves roll into the harbor, but…it wasn’t going to happen.
    With the knowledge that there would be no more sleep this night, Sophia gathered her nerve and threw aside her worn quilts despite the chill. As the little warmth she had collected through the night began to leave her, she felt a catch and not a moment later heard the light thud of metal against wood. Her golden, locket fell open onto the floor a foot away; Mr. Harply’s youthful visage stared up at her as a hauntingly beautiful tune spilled from the old trinket. She met his gaze, reached down, and rescued him from the icy, wooden floor.
    Sophie reminisced as she held the pendant in her hand and stroked his picture with her thumb. Nathanial always claimed not to be very photogenic, but, in her eyes, no bad light existed for him, so long as he was looking at her. She was never very confident, but she felt amazing having landed him.
    She closed the tiny musical locket, placed it on the night stand, and remained seated on the bed. She remembered when he had first clasped it ‘round her neck.

    * * *

    Nathaniel was not a rich man, but they were young and their hopes and dreams knew no end. The passion of youth and the hopeful excitement for a war’s resolution set their world ablaze. He would go to sea and come back; they would make a life together. They would have children and, however humble, they would lead a happy life, living on love.
    He made a promise to marry her when he came back. She would have this baby and it would be great, but there was something the sailor didn’t know, something she hadn’t the heart to tell him.
    Sophia had had a miscarriage. Swallowing her troubles, she gave Nathaniel a healthy smile and nodded anyway. She knew he deserved to know, but the last thing she wanted was for him to have something more to worry about while on the battlefield. They would try again hopefully in a more peaceful time.
    So, before he boarded the ship, he asked her properly to be his wife. He knelt in front of her and the world to ask for her hand. She said “Yes.” With that Nathaniel stood up and placed a golden locket around her neck. She smiled and opened it. His smile grew, but hers disappeared. Accompanying the photo of them together inside the locket was a melody, a lullaby that her mother used to sing to her. Given any other circumstance she might have cried happy tears, but now they were not. She passed them off as not wanting him to go and it worked. They kissed, said goodbye, and waved until neither could see the other.

    * * *

    Sophia went downstairs and put on some coffee. This was more a ritual than functional routine. It seemed caffeine had lost its waking power over her. She was in a constant haze, always tired, but unable to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. Regardless, she had drunk it so long; she’d grown accustomed to its bitter character and wouldn’t have a morning without it. She did a lot of this, accommodating bitter things. She sipped from the plain, porcelain cup and sat it down. “I was and still am that woman in the cup, confined by a pure ring of white and forced full of bittersweet reflections.”
    * * *

    She thought about how she waited for Nathaniel to return. She caught up with old girlfriends she had lost touch with since he claimed the better part of her life. Sophie stood her ground and held on faithfully to their relationship. She wrote letters steadily, but never received responses. Time passed…six months, seven, eight, a year, two… many of the men that had left alongside Nathaniel began to reappear. She eagerly waited for him and inquired those she recognized as to where he might be, how he was, and when he might come back. Most hadn’t seen him since their departure and anyone who had seen him since knew nothing of where he was or when he was to come home. She feared that she would soon hang a flag in a shadow box on her wall.
    No letters or flags came. Not knowing what to think, Sophia did the only thing she could do. She found new ways to pass the time. She read more and more, took up quilt making, and took strolls about the town. On one such a stroll on no day in particular, Sophia made it to one of her usual resting places in the park and sat down on a concrete bench. She looked around absently and thought about what she would do when he got back. She thought about what she might wear, what she might say to welcome him, and how to break the news to him without sending him over the edge. He’s bound to be close after experiencing that hell. She had family that had gone to war before, healthy and sharp-minded, but came back broken, mere shades of what they were. Sophia wanted no part of it and hoped the very best for Nathaniel.
    Just then, something caught Sophie’s eye and snapped her out of her daydream. She looked again. Her heart bolted. Before she knew it, she was walking towards him. Him. She knew it had to be him, but he was quite some distance away; it was a wonder that she had seen him….wait – them. She saw his figure walking with another, a young lady. They steadily walked farther away from her. The number of people between them grew and, eventually, the pair vanished from her sight.
    Sophie found herself speechless. Mouth agape and all, she stopped where she stood and just stood, which was an accomplishment in itself. Existing was suddenly much more labor intensive. For a few moments, time and space forgot each other and her head swam.
    Sophia flatly stated “I can’t believe such a thing,” she said, “I won’t.”
    “They could have been anybody. I could barely see them.” She fought it as any loyal lover would.

    * * *

    She shivered.
    Clunk.
    The liquid bitterness spilled onto her nightgown and the floor. The white cup appeared fine at first, but upon closer inspection, Sophie noticed a few delicately splintering cracks, now black veins. Any further stress would cause it to shatter.
    “What was that, honey? Are you alright?” called a disheveled, squinting figure from the stairs.
    “Yes, dear. I just had a little accident. You know me, one after another after another.”
    He nodded and grinned with his eyes shut.
    “I’m sorry I woke you, but you go back on to bed. You ship out again tomorrow. You need to take advantage of that bed while you still have the chance. I’ll try to postpone that next fated accident and to keep quiet. Sweet dreams, Albert.”
    “I won’t argue with that. Just be careful, sweetheart. Goodnight...again,” he smiled mischievously and returned upstairs to his post in the fortress of quilts.
    She felt a little guilty now recalling Nathaniel though she knew she always would recall him. Her focus had been shaken. Her mind passed over the foolish mistake that led to the end of her relationship with him.
    “Just a little longer,” she thought. Smiling a knowing smile, she continued, “I trusted two fools before the man I loved, myself and Moira, the spinster, as fate would have her. Sophia fell back into memory.

    * * *

    Two weeks after watching the couple dissolve into the crowd, Moira, a friend Sophie had reconnected with, came to stroll with her. They had been catching up but that was over quickly and once done with that, they gossiped and joked and such on a regular basis. Today, as they made laps along another of their favorite places to walk, the pier. Moira came with a gossip piece of particular interest.
    “Sophie, there’s something I’ve been debating whether or not to tell you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, but…I saw Nathaniel Harply.”
    “You what?! Are you sure?”
    “If memory serves, I believe I did…but that’s not all. He was…”
    “With someone else?” Sophie finished for her. “I saw him not long ago, myself, also with someone else, but he was a good way off. I didn’t get a good look, but I swear it looked just like him….Oh, Moira, I waited so long...” Sophie’s eyes teared up.
    “-And it’s not healthy! You aren’t getting any younger. You should move on. He has,” she added snidely.
    “I just think I need some time.”
    “Time? It’s been over two years, Sophia.”
    “Bu-“
    Moira cut her off. “Nonsense, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we go out?”
    “I thought that’s what we’ve been doing, Moira.”
    “This isn’t out. This is walking. The old women who feed the birds do this. I mean more along the lines of say the cinema…with dates?”
    Sophie looked lost. It’s not like the possibility hadn’t crossed her mind. She knew she might one day date another, but in a way she never thought that it would really happen. She wasn’t so sure that she should. She thought “No” to herself and said as much to Moira, but she wouldn’t have it. It took a few more old lady outings to convince her, but Sophia did finally agreed to go out as friends.

    * * *

    “I guess in a tragic way even two fools have a little luck between them. Albert is a good man.”
    The coffee had definitely stained her gown. If she were lucky she might get the stain out, but she didn’t honestly care. She had no one to impress. Albert was a dear, but was out to sea, catching fish for his uncle’s company the majority of the time. She cleaned up her mess, changed clothes, grabbed her locket, and went into the sitting room. “It sure is cold,” she thought again as she threw some wood into the fireplace. She lit it and coaxed it into fighting off the night’s sting with the poker. Sophie then looked up at the mantle and noticed the amount of dust that had settled on some of the decorative items, pictures, and such.
    “This house needs a good cleaning. I suppose I’ll have plenty of time. It’ll be spotless when Albert comes back. Well, at least the spots that stick out like this.” The old woman laughed at herself as she raked her finger across the glass of a triangular shadow box. She placed it gingerly back onto the mantle and sat in a chair near the fire. She had morals and knew that it may not be right to continue loving him, but her feelings for Nathaniel had changed over time. He became more of an old friend. Her wise eyes glistened still for the man whose honor this case celebrated, for the man who really did lock away his heart for her. She wore it most every waking hour and as her unpredictable sleep schedule dictated this morning she fell asleep wearing it.