Artefact of Love

Cherish hurries up the steps to the grey building. Her long brown hair, pulled back and centre parted, is soaking. She mounts the final step and is welcomed under the refuge of a concrete canopy. The pelting stops and she releases a puff of relief.

“Are you in a secret race we don’t know about?” Mrs. Walters is flanked by Cherish’s classmates. They calmly walk the steps in unison, their biscuit uniforms spotted by the rain.

Cherish shakes the residual rain drops from her beige shoulders. “Just can’t stand the rain, Miss” she explains.

Mrs. Walters holds Cherish’s gaze as she rises to her level. Cherish drops her eyes to the floor. The teacher smiles and turns to the students coming up behind her.

“Here we are. We’ll enter the museum and you can all wait in the lobby while I register us. Behave yourselves and make sure you listen to the guide. You will be quizzed on this in your history exam.” She nods once and walks to the large revolving doors.

Still stuck on her shameful spot, Cherish waits to be saved. She feels Gracie’s arm slinking around her own.

“You’ve never been good with the rain,” Gracie smiles at Cherish who gives her a sheepish grin. “Come on, let’s get educated.”

They follow the crowd of students through the rotating doors.

-

The Bijouterie Museum has been public for five years now. It is a standard destination for compulsory school trips to the capital.

Since jewellery was outlawed ten years ago, most people have lost interest in trinkets. Deciding to display the remaining artefacts of decadence was a last ditch-effort to bring more traffic down town. With a new curricular emphasis on the effects of jewellery consumption in correspondence with the corruption of conceit, school students are visiting the building daily.

Cherish stands in the marbled foyer looking up at the broad skylight. Rain pitter patters against the glass.

“I’ve never seen a window on the roof before”, she says to Gracie who now also has her head craned back as far as her neck will allow.

“How does it stay up there?” Gracie wanders. They don’t hear another pitter patter approach them.

“Calloway school?”

A thin upside-down face obstructs their view of the ceiling. Cherish immediately notices the bauble dangling from his left ear.

“Woah”, she spins around to face him, steadying herself on her friend’s equally dizzy arm. “What’s on your ear?” Cherish finds herself pointing at the white droplet that tickles his shoulder. She immediately takes her hand away, embarrassed.

The man leans in, offering the girls a better view.

“It’s a pearl earning,” he informs them. “Pearl earrings are one of the oldest and most popular items of jewellery among both men and women in ancient history,” he continues.

Cherish gets closer. She could reach out and pluck if from his ear if she were so brave.

Suddenly, he straightens up. “You’ll learn all about them, and more. Follow me”. He pivots on his heel and struts across the loud room.

The girls look at each other with excited wide eyes.

“Did you see the hole in his ear? So gross!” Gracie shrieks before running after him and joining the rest of their school group.

Cherish’s response is delayed. “Yeah. Totally.” She follows her friend.

-

The man leads the students and their teacher through the treasure rooms. He allows no more than ten minutes in each. Just enough time to read about a few items before being pulled away.

The first room is metal. They learn that from the moment of its discovery, it was bastardised by human hubris: melted and mixed into meaningless junk.

Cherish knows gold is far inferior to the industrious bronze . . . but it looks like liquid sunshine. She agrees that silver is weak in comparison to steel . . . yet it reminds her of fresh morning dew.

The second room is more insidious: jewels. These sparkling rocks have caused so much death and destruction. The students walk around the display, rainbows reflected on their skin, and all they can do is scoff.

Cherish wears her frown well for a while. Then she lays eyes on a small ruby. It’s sharp angles refracting the light at a thousand exit points.

She stares at the small red rock until she’s alone in the room.

“Miss Cherish?” Her teacher’s annoyed face pokes around the door. Cherish returns to the world and to her class, leaving the precious stones behind.

-

They whizz though smaller rooms, hearing about cultures ravaged by this prideful pursuit. Each room displays an ego element separately: platinum, pearls, titanium, topaz.

“In this final room, you will see these ingredients come together,” says the man as he opens the last door. The students flood in. From the back of the line Cherish and Gracie hear gasps. Gracie whispers to Cherish as they shuffled forward.

“I heard they have crowns here.”

Mrs. Walters overhears. “Nonsense, Gracie. All the crowns were thoroughly disposed of,” she snaps. Gracie shrugs.

“I hope there are crowns,” Gracie says louder.

Cherish’s mouth gapes at the thought of jewel incrusted golden crowns. She’s only heard of such things in the old stories.

Now at the door, stepping into the dark room, Cherish’s eyes adjust to the change in atmosphere. The dark velvet walls are as decadent as the artefacts in the display cases. Her eyes darting around the room, Cherish drags her hand along the wall as she takes the path to the left.

Inside glass cabinets, velvet busts model neck, ear, and head pieces. Velvet hands display shinning stacks upon their fingers. Cherish spots another earring like the tour guide’s. This one has a twin. Her hand gently tugs at her earlobe while staring at the drooping pearls. She wonders if one’s ears would eventually tear.

“Look at the size of that!” Cherish is pulled back into the room as the students behind her gawk at the earrings. “How disgusting. It’s like a growth,” comments one of the boys. They others start laughing.

Cherish moves away from them. She briefly looks for Gracie who is long gone. So, she lets her eyes wander up and down the cabinets, searching for something to settle on.

Then she see’s it.

Before her stands her own reflection. Only this girl’s plain neck is adorned by a gold chain with a strange shape hanging in the centre.

Cherish reaches up to feel the phantom pendant laying on her chest. She traces its reflected form: two soft clouds that meet in a sharp point at the end. Nothing she’s ever seen before. What does it mean?

From behind Cherish, a gentle voice answers her thought. “We used to call that a love heart,” it says.

“Love heart,” she mumbles the words. Cherish then frowns in protest. She looks over her shoulder to question the voice. “But that’s nothing like the shape of a heart?”

The women steps forward, coming beside Cherish. From her head to her ankles, she is ornamented. Cherish’s eyes quickly look up to the row of metal petals that hold back her flowing hair, then down to meet her green eyes. Is that . . . make-up?

Her red lips pull over her teeth in a friendly challenge, “How do you know? Have you seen a human heart for yourself?” She raises her eyebrows.

Cherish shakes her head and looks back at the love heart. “No I guess I haven’t.”

“Nor have I. So neither of us could say for sure,” she smiles at Cherish who attempts to register the details of her elaborate display. Each of the woman’s ears hold multiple earrings. Small ones, big ones, some right at the top.

Aware of her rudeness, Cherish turns back to the cabinet. She points to the love heart again. “What was it for? I mean, why would someone wear this symbol?” She asks.

The woman is impressed by the question. She steps even closer, lifting a heavily loaded hand. Cherish notices that even her fingernails are brightly coloured.

“As a symbol of love, hearts were most commonly given as gifts to express the giver’s devotion to the receiver.” She sneaks a smile at Cherish who is listening intently, eyes shifting from the woman’s lovely face, to her many glittering surfaces. Cherish looks back at the heart in the glass. “If you were to give a love heart to someone, who would you choose?” She drops the question and leans back as Cherish tries to answer it.

“Who do I love, you mean?” Cherish tries to understand.

“Yes. Essentially, that is the question.”

Cherish thinks for a moment. She inspects her reflection once again. Carefully, she responds.

“Though it is vain, I know . . . could I choose to keep it?” She quickly looks at the woman. “I mean since it is already a silly hypothetical,” Cherish tries to explain.

The woman smiles at Cherish. She looks around them. The rest of the group have moved on and are gathering at the end of the room. The two of them are alone.

She steps behind Cherish. “Close your eyes.” She places a gentle hand on Cherish’s shoulder.

“Pardon?”

In their reflection the woman offers a reassuring smile. Cherish closes her eyes.

Cherish feels the women gently comb her hair from the back of her neck. She feels something cold against her skin. She feels a slight weight around her neck. She feels a gentle breath by her ear.

“Open.”

Slowly unclenching her eyes, Cherish sees her decorated reflection again. She raises her hand to feel the shape. She gasps, looking down to where her fingers stroke the smooth bronze.

She spins around to the woman who holds a finger up to her lips. “What is this? No, take it back.” Cherish reaches to the back of her neck, trying to unclasp it. The woman takes her hands and brings them calmly to her side. She speaks softly.

“No, Cherish. This belongs to you.”

Cherish studies the woman’s face more closely now. She looks past the sparkle and through the shine. She looks into her eyes. Her soft green eyes . . .

“Davina?”

Davina’s green eyes well with tears as she nods. Her grip on Cherish’s hands loosen as they entwine their fingers.

“Yes, sister.” Davina lifts her bejewelled hand to wipe away the tears on Cherish’s cheek.

Mrs. Walter’s voice booms to the back of the room where they stand. “Come along everyone, time’s up.”

“How can I see you again? Where can I find you?” Cherish asks her desperately.

“Pretty things can also be useful, sister,” Davina responds as she reveals a locket of her own from under her blouse. Cherish watches in bewilderment as Davina squeezes the side of the love heart and it opens. The locket holds a photo of a small girl, a baby and a young woman.

Cherish beams up at her sister. “It’s mother.”

“Yes. But yours is much more exciting. Inside you’ll fine a location and time. Cherish,” she steps closer, whispering, “I’ve found us a train. We’re getting out of here. We’re going to see mother again.”

Cherish holds back a sob. She nods at her sister.

Once again, Davina raises her hand to wipe the tears. “Open it when you’re alone, ok. We leave tomorrow.”

“Cherish! Where is that girl?”

Hearing Mrs. Walter’s voice, they both look towards the door. Cherish embraces her sister, squeezing her tightly.

“I’ll see you soon,” she smiles at Davina and tucks the locket under her collar before turning away.

Davina sinks back into the dark walls. She watches her sister leave as she is met by her teacher.

“Where have you been?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Walters”

The teacher slips through the door. Cherish follows.

Before she disappears, she turns back to the dark path. Even in the dark Davina reflects the light. She twinkles in the shadow.

Cherish raises her hand in a small wave. She goes through to the other side, closing the door behind her.