Although my father left his jewelry shop in the desert city of Nidon under the care of his subordinates, he still worked very hard from home. In Nidon they handled all the sales, repairs, and purchases, but Appa created masterpieces from his studio in our house.
I remember sneaking in there after my mother would put me to sleep to watch him work. Appa would let me sit on his lap while he shaped and fabricated tiny components of a ring, earring, necklace, or bracelet.
There was nothing more spectacular in the world than the way a faceted diamond reflected the candlelight as rainbow specks on the table and walls.
At the time, I thought diamonds contained fairies. When the light shined on them, the fairies awoke causing rainbows to pour out of them.
Appa was always more giving and lenient than my mother. He would let me stay up until he was finished for the night, and then tuck me back into bed with a story. He never read me any fairy tales or told stories of monsters in the woods.
Instead, Appa read one of his new jewelry technique manuals, or a book on effective and ethical business practices, to me. I mostly just stared at the pictures of jewelry and listened to his comforting voice lull me to sleep.
When I was ten, a couple months after my mother disappeared, Appa returned to the studio for the first time since she vanished.
He had this piece, a halo of diamonds on a dainty platinum chain. By the look of it, the piece must have been a gift for my mother and their upcoming anniversary.
In silence, he reworked the piece over the course of three months. I watched it change from a necklace into a new case for a pocket watch. The actual pocket watch was a family heirloom from my grandpa.
One of my ancestors made it, and it was showcased as a piece of the century - or so Appa liked to boast. It was a platinum pocket watch with tempered gold gears. The new case included the ring of diamonds, as well as lacework that would reveal portions of the watch's face.
For those three months, I did not have a dad.
The village took care of me, and I made sure to take care of him. His facial expression of desperation told me that he needed to do this. He needed to immortalize my mother into something he would see every day.
For he could not survive without her in his life everyday.
YOU ARE READING
Memories of Mei
FantasyMei Marivaldi recounts the events of her life growing up in the era of the Second Lands. Many of these events remain a secret from her current traveling companions, and she planned to take them to the grave. Can Mei learn to let go of the past? The...
