The Cruel Purchase

It was an orange stone in a simple silver setting. It was nothing that she would have bought for herself, but, because he gave it to her, because he told her that he had bought it at a Kibbutz in Israel for her, it meant the world.  She imagines him leaning over a table in the warm evening light, trying to decide which one to choose, which one she would like the best. She pictures him in a narrow ancient alley, the walls, sand colored and illuminated by strung lights, like small colored stars. She sees him lift two gleaming necklaces trying to decide between the two. In the end, he chooses the one with the orange stone. It is unusual and she likes things that are a little out of the ordinary.

She didn't know till much later that he had laid it in another’s hand. With a quick frown and instant evaluation, it was discarded, left carelessly behind on his dresser.

Not long after, he laid it in her open hands.

How must he have felt when he saw how it lit her up when she held it. How in love she was with the man she imagined he was.

Did any part of him regret or feel shame ?

In the end, she threw it over the tall wooden fence along a small turquoise obelisque that he had given her and a few other purloined trinkets. It was just one small step in goodbye. She can still picture where they fell onto the lawn, grass now weaving in and out, concealing their existence. She can imagine that when the sun shines down just right, the orange stone comes alive for a few moments, to pulse out in grief for its misfortune.