Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
Originally the little love heart was purchased for his daughter on a particularly dark day. He wanted her to know he had enough love for both himself and her mother. That there would always be love there.
When she came in from the lake she saw the heart on her bedside table. She picked it up and knew who it was from and what it meant. But a glass heart would not do. It would not compensate. It would not placate. She picked it up and walked back outside and hurled it into the lake. It didn’t skim, it plunged and dropped deep. Love gone.
As if it never was. And she felt no sadness, just nothing. And walked back.
How could he love for two when he pushed her love away? He wasn’t enough.
To find a heart in the bottom of a lake was no surprise. Water beds hide all sorts of treasures. His hand reached out through the murky water hopeful it was worth more than glass. A diamond from a long ago land. A precious jewel thrown overboard in a lover’s tiff.
Reaching the surface and closer inspection revealed its modest qualities. But it would still be worth something to someone. Not everyone. A heart is not for everyone. One taker would do. Only one person needs this heart.
He plonked it in his trolley along with his other bits and pieces and pushed on to the market.
With a heart given, a heart bought, he could eat tonight surely.
There’s a saying, if you want to find love, go fishing for it. The way you go fishing of course is up to you but go fishing none the less – for love, always fish for love.
The next minute after contemplating this saying, it was as if fate was delivered. There, before her was a glass heart, held by a young boy, thin, tanned, unwashed. But the heart was shining, glowing, clean. Before she had even decided whether she would have it her hand was already in her pocket holding her money. “How much for the heart?” she asked.
He couldn’t make out what she was saying, so transfixed was he on the heart. Its turquoise colour mesmerising. She repeated and by this time was holding out the notes.
He froze, not able to answer or move. Was this heart emitting energy or was it his imagination? So inside his own mind, he couldn’t make the switch to actually speaking. He just felt. Was it love? Was it sadness, was it anger? How did he feel? Why could he not move?
The heart’s brilliance radiated. They both stood staring as if the heart might speak, even though they already both felt its extraordinary message. Would he give it, would he take the money to eat? He couldn’t say.
And then they looked at each other. Was it a stand off or a falling in love? Would they fight for it? It was her heart, given many years ago. Thrown. It was her own love and ability to love inside that heart. She needed it back. You can’t throw love away. Not everyone is lucky enough to get it back.