A short story: Sasha's Locket

Sasha never got to know her parents.  They were taken from her when she was 8 years old in a plane crash, and from there she kept a photo of them in a necklace that she wore.  The photos had long since faded, but she mindfully reassured herself that they were still intact.  She would put her fingers up to the locket, too afraid to open it, afraid her mental reassurance would get shattered at the sight of how faded the photos were.  But deep, deep down, she knew their faces were no longer there.  The photos were just as good as blank pieces of paper.  But she didn't want to feel silly about it, so she kept her mind focused on the way the necklace was so familiar to her fingers.  She wanted to think the photos were fine, everything was going to be fine.  

When Sasha turned 12 she met a boy.  At the time she was living with an aunt who was always watching television and bought enough microwaveable meals to last a good while.  As Sasha came home, she went to the fridge and pulled out a small cardboard box with a picture that read "fettuccine Alfredo."  As she put it in the microwave she couldn't help but walk to the sofa where her aunt sat watching a commercial about dog biscuits.  

"Aunt Rachel, I think I like a boy at school." She said surprisingly without hesitance. 

Aunt Rachel's eyes stayed on the screen as the commercial was showing the dog biscuits in different flavors.  

"Oh, that's nice.  Should I get a dog?"

Aunt Rachel would never get a dog.  Aunt Rachel hated anything that required attention, and Sasha was well aware that the doom of a dog in the house would be bad.  It would pee everywhere, it would rip up the pillows, and it would shed its coat marking everything with a distinct scent.  Sasha remembered her dad saying those very words, when her mom brought home a new dog when she was only 3.  It was given to a neighbor 3 months later.  A dog would not do.  

"I think I'm allergic to dogs," Sasha lied.  

"Okay, I guess I won't be able to get a dog then."  Aunt Rachel made a gesture that looked like something Sasha's friend at school would make when someone was using the pencil sharpener and they'd say, "Well I guess I'm not sharpening my pencil then."

Sasha walked back into the kitchen.  She had forgotten about the fettuccini and when she opened the microwave the sauce had thickened and a thin layer of crusty yellowness had dried on top.  She grabbed a metal fork from the utensil drawer and broke through the crusty layer as she mixed it all up.

She finished her dinner and threw the wilting cardboard tray in the trash.  Then she washed her fork and made her way to her room.  Once inside she looked at her plain white dresser and for a minute she put her fingers up to her necklace.

"I met a boy at school today." She half whispered and half spoke in her mind.  She waited, she wanted to know what they thought, but there was no reply.  Sasha didn't have her parents anymore.  

When Sasha turned 17 she moved out of her Aunt Rachel's place.  She got accepted to a small college 4 hours away and had managed to save up enough to make it far enough for the first year.  She had worked at Pizza Palace and the tips added up, even though she now hated the smell of cardboard and pepperonis.  The boy Sasha liked in junior high ended up liking another girl 3 years after their progressing friendship, and he had let Sasha know.  She was Sasha's bully, Victoria.    

 

"How are you going to make it out there?"  Aunt Rachel said on the day Sasha stood at the doorway with her bags all packed in her car.  She wanted to give her aunt a hug because she was surprised to see that her aunt could actually stand.  

"I'll manage."  Sasha said with a dash of sarcasm. 

"Well, be careful and make sure you ....." Aunt Rachel's voice faded in the distance as Sasha watched her aunt's lips move and her eyes totally void of the goodbye twinkle she was searching for.  

Sasha never got to hear her Aunt say goodbye.  On the drive to her new school she periodically twirled the locket the way she always did.  It was familiar and habitual.  She didn't know what it was about her aunt, but she felt something was missing.  She couldn't quite put her finger on it, and that's when her fingers would naturally reach up to her necklace. 

"I'm going to college." She half spoke the words in her mind and at the space between her and the windshield.  Her fingers were wrapped around the locket, and instead of waiting for the response she once sought as a child, she let the words echo in her mind.  "I'm going to college."  Then she turned on the radio.

To be continued...