The Locket

The locket feels heavier than usual, where it rests on my skin.

It is, of course.

They had returned it to me promptly, even made sure it looked just as worn as before. That the faded photo inside still had one crinkled edge — turning his smile slightly askew.

If it was a little heavier, who would notice besides me?

I walk down the crowded corridor and step onto the train platform when my phone buzzes tonelessly.

On my way home. Want me to pick up dinner?

Then, a moment later:

Sushi

I look out the window as the train crosses above ground. Look at the high walls that can’t decide if they’re keeping something in or locking something out. My hands robotically answer back.

I touch the locket nervously and wonder if it can hear my heartbeat, count the time between my breaths.

The doors open, and I think of my mother. Of Martin, convincing me of this plan. Of what it could mean to reset the clock.

Of Theo’s face with his crinkled smile.

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“This is the right thing to do. Think of your mother — she’s not a bad person. She doesn’t deserve to be brought into this. You can save her.”

Good cop, bad cop, then. Martin’s eyes were soft and brown and trustworthy. The other guard pulled out a chair and sat at the metal table with a clatter.

“She’s bad enough to have raised a seditionist. And you’re bad enough to have married one. Neither of you are as big a fish as him. So what’ll it be? Is your mother going to prison for his crimes? Are you?”

I touched the locket nervously. Inside, my face and Theo’s were smashed together, confined in a kiss.

“I can’t. How could I? What do you even want me to do?”

That question was probably the only answer they needed.

It was Martin who reached across the table, taking my hand in his.

“You can do this. You can undo your crimes and start over,” he said, “and you can get your mother out of this mess. This is fixable.” He shuffled some papers in the file he held — the file on Theo. “He’s traveling next week, right?”

I nodded.

The other guard replied. “Come back here then. Two days before he’s set to return. Then come back the day he does. Then you’ll just go home. Just go home and let him talk.”

He pointed at my throat. “We’ll need to borrow that in the meantime. You wear it everyday, yes? So he’ll need to be gone while we have it.”

That was the plan, then. Something as innocuous as an antique locket — the first gift he had ever bought for me — was going to take away his freedom and the freedom of those he fought for.

I swallowed heavily and glanced at the monitor that showed my mother’s cell. For some reason, they let her bring the quilt my grandmother made. She was sitting on the floor, wrapped in it, leaning against her cot. It looked like she was praying, but of course she didn’t speak any words out loud.

“On Wednesday, then,” I said, and Martin got up, came over to my side and kneeled, looking into my eyes.

“You fell in love with the wrong person. You’re not a traitor. You’re righting a wrong. He is responsible for himself, just like you are. Except you’re thinking of other people, too. You’re thinking of your mother, of your coworkers, of your neighbors. You’re thinking of everything we built together. Not selfish ideals.”

His hands still held mine. “You will get through this. I promise.”

The other guard opened the door, took me by the elbow, and walked me out.

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They had found me at work, three months ago. Not that I knew it at the time.

Martin was introduced to us as a new employee, the same level as me. His thick wavy hair and calm dark eyes somehow made him seem like the kind of loyal dog that would protect and comfort you in equal measure. Man’s best friend.

It was two days later that we had our first conversation. A group of us were eating lunch in the canteen, and he sat across from me. He shared that he had a daughter, was a widower. I mentioned I was married, that my mother lived with us. He didn’t ask any follow-up questions. Made a joke about the new haircut our manager had gotten the day before. I liked him.

“He’s really helping me fit in here. But I have to say, the new look seems like a midlife crisis.”

“The only kind of crisis we can admit to these days,” I replied with a tilt of my head.

He raised his cup and took a sip as a few others chuckled.

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Last month, he came over for dinner. I thought he and Theo would get along.

My mother loved him.

“Next time you come over, I’m inviting Rosa. I think you’d like her.” She chuckled as we cleaned up after the meal. “She’s as feisty as this one here,” she motioned to me. “And how nice for you two to have another couple to hang out with?”

I shrugged apologetically and Martin’s laugh sounded robustly in the room. “If you’re picking the girl, it can’t go wrong. I’m in.”

He and Theo sat on the roof for a while after dinner. The sun set while they stayed up talking, putting the world to rights.

But apparently not too much.

“I don’t think he’s the right sort,” Theo had said when we were alone together. “A nice guy of course, and it would be good to have him over again. But…” he trailed off.

“He asked too many questions and not enough. I don’t think we should bring him to the next meeting or anything.” His eyes were pensive as he looked out the window that faced the street.

“You really can’t be too careful.”

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My husband is a romantic — not that he’d admit it. He’d sent me a bouquet of paper flowers that day — the best people like us could get, almost as realistic as the real thing. I set them on my desk as Martin came up behind me.

“Anniversary?” he asked.

“A no-reason gift. Just because.” I replied. My tone of voice held a smile.

Martin clicked his tongue. “That Theo’s a good guy, huh?”

“I certainly think so,” I said, as I arranged them in the vase.

A pause. He shifted his weight subtly. “He’s lucky to have you, you know.”

I turned to look at him for the first time that day. Was his shirt a little more rumpled than usual? His hair a little more mussed?

He ran his hand through his hair at this thought, answering my question.

“You’ll find someone again, Martin,” I said quietly.

He chuckled a little humorlessly. “I am good at finding people. I found you, after all.”

What’s funny is that I thought he was trying to say he was heartbroken. Perhaps he was. He made a smile that looked like a grimace and walked out the door. Everyone else had already gone to lunch. It felt quieter than normal.

It’s not unusual to see guards in the main corridor, watching over passersby traveling from office to office. Watching over the employees on their way to lunch, to the train, to the mailroom. Silent sentinels. Watching.

But that day they did more than watch me. There was a half circle of them waiting as I walked down the hallway, blocking my path. They spread out behind me as I took in the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Martin said, as they put the handcuffs on me and walked me toward the security exit. “I didn’t know it would come out like this.”

My eyes stayed on the floor as my mind caught up.

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That night he came to dinner, Martin’s job was to plant a bug — and he did. On my phone and on Theo’s. They were trying to get enough evidence of Theo’s involvement to put him away, it seems.

But Theo’s smart. His phone is encrypted. Non-government protections keep his conversations, his data, his business, completely private. Even when on a call with me, no one can hear his side of the conversation.

“I don’t want you to be a part of this,” he’d said, long before we were married. “I know it’s your fight, too. But if I lose you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“And if I lose you?”

He brushed my hair out of my eyes and didn’t answer the question.

“You work in a state office. If you had too many protections on your phone, anywhere around you, it would look suspicious. I’ll tell you the important things — at home, where it’s safe. I check for bugs every week. But please promise me you’ll stay safe. Stay out of this.”

I was angry at this request. But I furrowed my brow and I nodded. “Not forever, Theo. But for now — ok.”

He kissed me fiercely.

The problem, Martin explained to me in the holding room, eyes entreating across the table, was that they only heard my side of the conversation. Allusions to Theo’s involvement, but no evidence. Sides of my conversations with others on our side, references to meetings, asking, “are they trustworthy?”

It was enough to implicate me. And not Theo.

I had kept my promise from those years ago. I was not part of the dirty work. My mother was not part of any of it. But I wanted to know my husband — to know if he was safe. When he was risking his life. When he would come home. And so I knew everything these agents wanted. I just wasn’t who they wanted.

And that’s why they took my mother.

That’s why they took my locket.

That’s why they sent me home, armed with the first gift Theo ever bought me. Armed with a piece of tech, tucked behind his photo.

The train doors open, and I think of my mother.

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I’m sitting inside, acting like I’m reading when he opens the door. I get up and lean into his embrace.

He is all talk — happy to be home, excited to tell me about his trip. He unpacks the food he brought for us and talks about the job they just finished, what it means for our side. For his side. He tells me about how much of an asset his new recruits are.

I’m staring down at my food when he looks at me.

“Is everything alright? You’re being very quiet.”

He tilts his head, suddenly alert to something I can’t hear.

The door swings open, guards filing in. Eager to be part of the mission to take down the ringleader. Theo looks at me, understanding much quicker than I did.

“You told me your mom was with Sylvie tonight.”

“She’s not.” My words are hollow in the now-crowded room.

Theo nods as they cuff his hands behind him roughly. “I’m always going to love you, you know.”

It takes me too long to know what to say to that, and he’s gone. The guards are gone. Suddenly there are just a few agency workers, tearing my home to pieces. And Martin.

“We need to get you out of here. Get you set up — you can live with your mom, someplace nice.”

He helps me up, not caring that I may as well be catatonic. He places his jacket over my shoulders.

“And we certainly need to get rid of this,” he says, motioning to the surveillance equipment around my neck.

He takes it off of my neck, drops it on the ground. Crushes it under his heel.

“That’s done. You’re an ordinary citizen again.”

We walk together out of the house.

“Let’s just look forward, now.”