Mother of Pearl

PROLOGUE     

Deep down in the ocean where lights and darkness play endlessly on corals, sand and stones, there once was a sea shell, living in a forest of seaweed. One might have thought it was like all those others that were living beside it in the currents: they were all covered with crusts of algae and sea pox, breathing sea water in and out until they would die one day and be washed out and forgotten, but life follows its own paths even down in the sea and so it turned out things were to be different with this one.

One day it happened that a tiny grain of sand, alone on its journey, was washed into the inside of the animal. The sharp-edged thing cut and hurt the sensitive flesh and after a certain time of struggling, as there was nothing else it could do, the shell had to give up the fight.

But it wasn ´ t surrender. Instead the sea shell chose the most beautiful pastels it was capable of; it used them to cover the grain as well as it could and decided to live with the foreign body on its inside. Over time the grain stopped looking dull and more or less translucent; it started to glisten now and to shine and as the sharp edges were softened, the pain inside the shell was eased: the foreign thing, layer by layer, was nurtured to a big and precious pearl, finally embedded into the inner parts of what was now becoming its home.

***

The door of the little shop made a tinkling sound. A new customer had come.

 “Hello,“ the jeweller welcomed her, smiling approvingly. “Nice to see you here.“ He watched her for a few seconds just in case she would ask him for an offer, but he knew the usual reluctance in her contacts to other people, so he quietly withdrew to the tiny back room where he had been waiting. 

The woman slowly browsed the room and had a look at the many clocks on the walls and the watches in the window, at the large selection of fine pieces of jewellery that had been placed in small cases and under glass, displayed with expertise and discretion.

She actually was not really sure what she had come for; the only thing she could say was that she recently felt as if she was going through some kind of a change, and after all those bad times that she had experienced she now had decided that it was to be a change for the better – for sure. So why not go somewhere she had never been before? It was just a shop, and who knew - maybe she would even be able to find a little present for herself...? - No. - No..., she wasn ´ t sure at all, actually, not after all that had happened.

Her life had lost its joys long years ago. It had been cracked like an oyster and fallen into the darkest ocean, for she had lost her little daughter at the age of eight, and in view of the facts of what had happened her husband had decided to live on his own now, somewhere else. Since that time she had been carrying her guilt like a burden she would never get rid of, for her little one, her clever girl, beloved and shining, had been taken away from her; she was gone and would never ever come back again.

Of course she somehow had got used to it, of course she had tried to go on with her life as well as she could. She had cried and cried, she had seen therapists of different kinds, she had read all books that had ever been written about the loss of a loved one. She had gone to church and gone out into the woods to look for comfort, but still she woke up every day, even after more than a decade, with the thought that she had done wrong, that it had been her fault, that she had made the fatal mistake.  

The jeweller met her several times a week when they were leaving their homes for work, usually walking past a few parents who were taking their kids to school. He was friendly and knew that she was mourning, but he never asked her about the specific reasons for the shadows under her eyes, her bland, shapeless appearance, about her friends or the way she actually spent her evenings and weekends.

“Oh, well…,“ was the usual answer to his greeting, “I am all right, you know...“ She often gave him a shy smile and then, after a few minutes walked in small talk and silence, went off with the words “I ´ m sorry, I ´ ve got to go...“, turning into a side street or to the park that was close while she was trying to hold back those memories from years ago that were washing over her – things she remembered of nights in the smell of a hospital corridor, the doctor ´ s marble face and his helpless gestures.

The bitter pangs of her bad conscience and the grey, expressionless face of her husband who had been staring down at his shoes.

The wish it had been herself and not her little girl.  

She and her husband had actually not wanted to have children. It had been coincidence that she had got pregnant – it had not been planned at all and she had struggled hard with herself: How were they supposed to live with a child now? It didn ´ t fit in with their lives, they had never thought about being a family. And would they be capable of being a good mother or father at all? Their parents, on both sides, had hardly ever cared about anything but good grades. Their childhoods had been quite unhappy, and so they felt loads of self doubt and helplessness.

„Just look at this beautiful, beautiful pearl!“ the people outside said when they had spotted the pendant on its chain, placed in the shop window. They admired its unity of plainness and elegance a lot, but still it turned out that nobody wanted to take it home. “Far too expensive,“ said the elderly ladies, “What a shame, such a pretty thing!“ The brides didn ´ t want to wear it for their weddings, others considered it out of fashion, and so the pearl remained while other items were bought. By the time its radiance faded a little as it was far away from the sea and had no contact to human skin, and after long weeks in the shop window its only difference to the other items was its extraordinary size. So finally the jeweller removed it from the window and stored it in a black box and the box in a safe in case it might be used later for another, possibly more rewarding purpose.

***

Well, finally they had tried – both of them, she remembered while she was looking at the big grandfather clock which was ticking away, creating a friendly atmosphere of quietness and serenity. They had used literature, courses in parenting and therapists as helpers; together with other parents and friends they had tried to be a good mother and father to their daughter. Oh, it had been a lot of work! They had tried their very best and finally, without help, had loved her so much; it had been so much more than they had ever hoped for and they had been so very proud of their only child.

But still it had happened. Still, although they had struggled and worked so hard, they had not been able to keep her. Despite all effort she, the mother, had done something wrong. Only herself and nobody else.

For Eric didn ´ t have anything to do with it. He had been at work when it had happened, and she, she and nobody else, had been the one to look after her daughter when she was coming back from school.

Why hadn ´ t she picked her up by car? Why had she let her walk along that busy road, at dusk, without any traffic lights, without any other help? That little one had only been a child – why hadn ´ t she, as her mother, cared for her daughter, hadn ´ t called her husband to pick her up after school?

Why...? Well, ... She let out a helpless, heavy sigh, arguing with herself just as usual. She … had thought it would be ok, just for once. Only once. Her daughter had been eight years old, she had always been so cautious and careful when joining the traffic. She, her mom, the person who had had to care for her, she ´ d had loads of other things to do, there had been lots of appointments to keep... Extra hours at work as a colleague was ill, her mother who needed help in washing her curtains, meals that she had had to prepare, the yearly check-up and the flu shot.

Of course that was no excuse, but still...

- Oh, if she had just...!

And… Eric – she had known how much he hated it to be bothered while he was at work; she had hoped to spare him the usual hassle of changing his schedules in order to pick up his daughter.

A huge lump was there in her throat, extending to an inacceptable size. It had been such a short distance... She had even walked that way with her a couple of times... She had just... She…! - It was… 

“And how are you today?“ A friendly voice took her back to the outside world. Her neighbour was standing behind the counter, smiling at her nearly the same way he always did, and although she couldn ´ t really say where the impression had come from, it suddenly was there: this moment that she had just stopped waiting for, as if suddenly all the clocks in that little shop had halted and then started measuring time in a different way.

She swallowed the tears that had been coming up inside her throat. “I am all right,“ she answered with all the distinctness she was capable of and her back straightened. “Yes. - Thank you,“ she added softly. “It still hurts and it always will, but I am all right.“

She took the box he had placed before her and opened it. Despite her usual sadness her heart dared a leap, and she slowly felt a tender inner smile spreading while she was taking a closer look at what was in it.

“This is lovely,“ she said, “and it ´ s exactly what I wanted.“

Her fingers gently touched the pendant before they opened and closed the latch and the pearl started to shine when it touched her skin; it fitted perfectly into the pit of her neck.

“Yes. I am all right,“ she thought with more confidence while she was looking at herself in the mirror. Her features were still pale and drawn but her eyes were as blue as the sea, and the pearl was shining beautifully on her skin as if it had always lived there: a symbol of pain and of loss but also of a chance to recover, and she remembered that lights play for ever and ever right down where the sea shells live.