Pocket Memories
Tugging at the collar of his rumpled and dirty Sleepyside Police Department uniform, Officer SpiderWebstertrudged into his bedroom.
“I hate working a long shift, especially when Molinson has a cold and the weather’s as bad as the coffee at the station,” he grumbled.
Standing in the room lit only by the hallway light, Spider unholstered his service weapon and removed the clip. Then he opened his closet door and placed the gun on the top shelf and stored the clip in a lockbox at the other end. Before shutting the closet, Spider unhooked his tie and put that on a lower shelf along with his badge, handcuffs and flashlight. His shirt came off next. Then with two quick yanks on the velcro straps of his bullet proof vest, he removed that as well. Spider crossed to his dresser where he began to unload his pockets, taking out the usual paraphernalia: a pen, a small notebook, a pack of gum, the key to his locker at the station, a crumpled foil packet and his wallet. Finally, from the bottom of his front right pocket, he pulled out a round, gold locket, minus its chain.
Spider held the once shiny gold trinket in his hand then clicked it open and stared at the two pictures inside. One was of his mother and the other was of his father. The locket had been one of the few pieces of jewelry that had belonged to Spider’s mother. After the car accident that had claimed her life, the coroner had given the locket, plus his mother’s rings, to him. He remembered the exact minute he had pulled the locket out of the standard envelope that bore the scribbled name of Maura Webster.
Numb and scared, Spider shivered at the chilly sterility of the coroner’s office. The old pipes clanked as they tried to push meager amounts of warmth into the cold, cement blocked room. The strong and putrid disinfectant that lingered throughout the tiny office stung his nostrils. But the locket, lying cold and alone in his hand, broke Spider’s heart. Fighting back tears, he turned the piece over and over in the palm of his hand, his fingers rubbing the delicate scrollwork that covered both sides of the locket. When the coroner left him to finalize the necessary paperwork, Spider slid the locket into his pocket.
A few days later, when sorting through his parents’ possessions, Spider had stumbled upon small pictures of both his parents in one of his mother’s dresser drawers. Surprised that what he had found fit perfectly in the small ovals, Spider surmised that his mother had originally put those pictures into the locket, then had replaced them with pictures of him and his younger brother Tad. Now, no matter what pants he wore, the locket still rested in his front right pocket, with the pictures of his parents back in their rightful place.
Setting the locket next to the collection on his dresser, Spider removed his uniform pants and slid into a pair of worn, comfortable jeans. Then he scooped up the locket and replaced it in his front pocket. He pushed the rest of the stuff aside, but stopped when his hand landed on the square, foil packet. With a shrug, he tossed it into the nearby trash can.
“So much for that,” he chuckled as his eyes looked upward. “And despite that incredibly uncomfortable conversation with Dad, I ended up with a pregnant girlfriend. But,” he wagged his finger toward the ceiling, “I can count too and I know I was on the way when you two got married.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s a Webster thing.”
Spider swiped at his eyes, then continued. “You’re going to be a grandma, Mom. And if we have a girl, I want to name her after you. And someday, when she’s old enough, she’ll wear this locket around her neck. I’ll tell her all about you, your artwork, your herb garden and how you took such good care of your family. I’ll make sure she knows you.”
Looking down, Spider shook his head. “You would have made an amazing grandmother,” he said softly. “I would have loved to have seen you holding my child.”
The sound squealing brakes outside the apartment interrupted Spider’s sad memories. After pulling a t-shirt over his head, he wandered back to the living room, his pocketed hand still clutching the locket and wondering how Tad would react to hearing the news about Spider’s expectant future.
Author's notes:This short piece was written as a challenge for Jixanny 20. A special thank you to my sister for her editing and suggestions. Image from google images.
Word count: 749