Tag: insecure writers support group

Even I Know

Silvia was the best, but even I know, the best things never last. I bet her funeral was lovely if the reception afterward was any indication. I was so pleased to be placed front and center as family and friends entered to sign the memory book. I didn’t much care to be filled with Styrofoam, but at least the silk Lilies were a nice touch. Many of the guests even rubbed my brass handles. I wondered how many of them thought they’d have a chance to take me home.

In the end, though, I was just as shocked as the rest of the family when Silvia bequeath me to her irreverent granddaughter. It took less than a week for her to seek an appraisal and then sell me off to a gallery. While I tried to enjoy the prestige and glamour of my new home, even I know when trouble is on the way.

When I first came to the gallery, I was placed in Regina’s, the curator’s, office while she decided whether to keep me for esthetic enrichment or sell me to the highest bidder. From the moment she saw me, she knew there was something more to me than my antique status and my brass and ebony inlay. Within thirty days, her revenues had increased fifteen percent. That’s when I was granted my own tinted glass display case, just outside the reach of direct sunlight, but in clear view of all who visited the gallery. I even gained a golden nameplate letting all interested parties know that I was not for sale.

Another month later, the first of Silvia’s relatives arrived to make an offer on me, explaining my long history and connection to their family. Regina was not moved and did not consider their offer. Still, more of them came and each time they appeared more desperate. Finally, the granddaughter herself arrived, offering twice was she’d received for me to get me back.

When the curator turned her down, security was called to keep her from trying to break my display case and carry me off. She yelled and kicked and screamed. “You don’t understand. It belongs with my family. We won’t make it without it. Please, we need that vase!” The next day, the curator took me to her summer home on an island to which even I’m unsure of the exact location.

From that point forward, my days were a blur of sunrises and sunsets. Nestled between teacups and similar tribal art, no one ever came to visit, and no one got to see my pretty designs. Regina was definitely not the best, but at least she kept me safe. At least until her wealth got the best of her. Even I know that someone like Regina is likely to be her own demise. I believe I heard the movers say it was an over-weighted private jet that eventually took her down.

Then came Marley, a half-brother Regina never mentioned to other people. He sold off her entire estate and moved to a wildlife reserve in Hawaii. I have no idea why he kept me. Perhaps he knew how special I was.

I was not excited about my new home at first, but in time I grew to appreciate the low-key atmosphere. I was on display next to the guest sign-in book at the resort adjacent to the reserve, which Marley apparently owned. I liked being filled with glass pebbles and silk Tulips. I felt very secure, just out of reach for small children but easily admired by discerning adults checking in and out. Within a few weeks, all the animals and staff were healthier than ever, and more guests were staying at the resort and spreading the word about the great work Marley was doing. It was a lovely time of peace and prosperity.

Then one day, Silvia’s granddaughter showed up. She did not look well. She wandered around the lobby and stopped and stared when she saw me. Her skin appeared stretched across her bones and her lips cracked with dryness as she shuffled towards me. When the desk clerk saw her, he immediately ran to her and asked if she needed help, calling to a co-worker to bring water. In an instant, she reached out her hand to grab me. When she missed, just barely grazing the tips of her fingers across my brass base, she collapsed to the floor.

A month later, Marley placed me in the center of a small round table and invited all his friends and family to gather around me. He told them all how special I was and that he’d drawn up a will to make sure I always remained in the family. It was a nice gesture and made me feel loved and appreciated for all the prosperity I bring with me everywhere I go.

Still, even I know that a will and good intentions only last for so many generations.

~

Updated 4-21-20 to address some typos. 

FCA- 828 words- Even I Know 2020 Copyright © Toinette J. Thomas

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