The Brooch

The Brooch

It had been sitting there for awhile, in the back shelves of Grandmother's jewelry box, for more years then I'd been alive-- and yet amidst the mountains of precious jewelry, it had sprung out to me almost immediately, like it had been waiting for my eyes. Though how it gave me the inexplicable feeling that it had been waiting, I didn't know, since I wasn't supposed to be here.
It had been two weeks since the funeral.
Not enough time to get the warm cinnamon smell of Grandmother out of her house, the house that thirty-seven human bodies were now marching through. Thirty-seven breathing bodies, half of them not even distantly related to me.
It seems like an insult to Grandmother, having all these people inside her house without her to greet them at the door, without her to dress up for. Grandmother loved to dress up.
Two weeks since the funeral. Not enough time to become accustomed to the fact that Grandmother was lying under the ground, unmoving.
And it had only taken two weeks to find everyone in her will.
And it had only taken two weeks to find an auctioneer to auction off anything that wasn't specified.
I slip out of my thoughts, and turn my attention back to the brooch, away from the quiet murmurs my mother and I attract. We were two of the thirty-seven people in Grandmother's house, but Mother sure wasn't warm. She was cold and detached, so limp that you might even think she was dead. Then again, I hadn't looked in a mirror for three days, so I might look like the walking dead as well. The murmurs continued, and all I could think about was how many of the people in this house hadn't even showed up to Grandmother's funeral. Then I shift my gaze back to Mother. And then back to the jewelry box. Mother and I could take one piece of jewelry each.
Grandmother loved to dress up. And that brooch-- something about it struck me so strongly of Grandmother that it made me ache, and I found myself hoping no one else would see it.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Mother didn't even look over, and I felt a pang-- Grandmother's death had affected her more then anyone, because Grandmother was Mother's mother. I know that if it was Mother who instead passed away, I might lose my mind completely, and Mother hadn't been herself at all when Grandmother died. I went ahead and took out my phone, spinning away from the auction, and checked to see who had texted.
It was Cameron. Normally that name would have sent a sizzle of sparks down my spine, but today all that I could muster was a tired smile.
That boy will not give up, will he? Mother had teased me about him ages ago, but at that time, it just felt like we were friends. Then Cam and I grew closer, and eventually I got the hunch there was some kind of other feeling. I read his message. Emilia. I'm sorry about your Grandmother-- just got back from vacation and only now heard. Are you alright?
I sigh. What could I say in response? My fingers hover above the keyboard, ready to send back my usual response, but this time I can't bring myself to, and then the auctioneer yells, in his signature drawl: "That's all, folks!" I put my phone back into my pocket. Mother tugs on my sleeve, the most we've interacted all day, and motions for me to go forward. I do so and look for the shadow of the brooch, and for a heart-stopping moment, I don't see it.
Then it comes smack into my sights, and I pull it out, looking down to examine it only briefly before snapping its box shut. Mother holds up a pearl necklace that Grandmother used to wear frequently, and then wordlessly walks away. I follow her out of Grandmother's now unfamiliar house, into the car.
Silence.
I wince, and shoot Cameron a quick response to his previous inquiries. Not really. What's up? Lame. Then I examine the delicate brooch for real. Brilliant blue opal dead-center in a filigree silver butterfly. I hold it up to the light, and Mother's eyes catch it in the rear-view.
"Is that...?"
I meet her eyes. "S'cuse me?"
"Is that what you picked?"
"Yes?"
She stops the car in front of our house, but neither of us move to get out.
"That brings back so many memories..."
"Really?" Genuine curiosity speaks through me.
"I loved that brooch when I was a kid, and so did Mum." Mother smiles at me a little, and I hold my breath, hoping she'll continue. "It was what established love between Father and Mum, in a sense."
"Really? A brooch?"
"Yes. Your grandfather bought it for her on their first date, passing by a jewelry store. He bought it for her. She wore it everywhere, and Father used to joke that Mum loved the brooch more then him." A bit of a spark comes into her eyes and she even winks. "She said it was lucky. I wore it to my first date." With Father.
"Wow. There's some history behind this, isn't there?"
"Yes..."
We get out of the car together. I clench the brooch a little tighter, memories of Grandma resurfacing.
When I get to my room, I take out my phone, and note that Cam's texted me again.
It'll be okay, Emilia.
Wanna see a movie together? I got tickets for later!
I blink, surprised, and then slowly look at the brooch, delicate in my hand.
A smile spreads across my face, and I carefully fix the brooch to my blouse.
Sure. That sounds nice. See you in 10?
I look up and allow myself to indulge in hope for a little longer.
The brooch glitters, colors catching the end of the sunset.
Maybe it is lucky.
Thanks, Grandma.