Candelabra

She was gold. Engraved with lines and drawings of everything that once was. I thought of her as a diary, capturing all the stories she’d heard over the years. On chilly evenings, I watched her reflect the faint light shining under my flimsy door as if she liked to play with it. I’d witnessed objects like it every so years, but none were quite like her. She wasn’t even tucked away at first, but our hallow halls made footsteps larger, louder, and bigger than necessary. My colleagues and I are made of steel. We’re made to echo each memory brought to (or taken from) us. All these noises shook her to the core. She tipped over and disappeared between the items of the cardboard box she once stood tall on. We only matter when you don’t want to consider what you’ve left behind. 

Even fading, she caught the light every single time. I could still see her sparks when the lighting was just about right. She had held on for so long, but her weight pressed her deeper into the ripped edges of the cardboard box. By the time Family arrived, she was drowning—headfirst, but her golden arms reached for the concrete floor. I wanted to assist, but I am only walls and echoes. My armlessness comes with the curse of being a passive bystander. So I could only witness her arms unbendingly proud and tall, as if she embraced her fall and welcomed every shadow that swallowed her last tiny sparks.

I imagined she once brightened the room like no other. No doubt she’d been the centerpiece at parties. Indispensable at dinner, for sure. She had seen it all: people laughing, talking, sticking food in their mouths with tongues that poked out. I had never seen a human eat differently, so I supposed it was the only way to do it. I witnessed them eat occasionally, but she must have observed it for years, watching every detail unfold right in front of her. She had seen people stick their tongues out with every bite, while others tried to remain discreet. Ashamed of their humanness. But I had no such luxury. No one ever hosted a five-course meal in my four walls, or anything close to it. I could see them eat a sandwich if I was lucky. The visits were mostly quick; families did not want to spend time with memories too precious to discard, yet too difficult or arbitrary to keep.  

It seemed only fitting that, after all these months of stillness, Family would eventually bring in another box, or remove my insides. When the moment came, I was glad it was the first. No one likes to be robbed. And the new box was heavy, too. It was sealed shut, unlike the torn, ripped open, or too-full-to-close boxes they’d brought in before. Family placed it down with a thud that made everything rattle. Behind them, in the doorway, stood a girl. She pressed her palms together and opened them in a V-shape. Only the bottom parts touched. She played with the fluorescent light from the walls behind her, casting a butterfly-shaped shadow on the box where my favorite guest had prepared herself for a tremendous fall.  

Family turned around. ‘’Maya, come.’’ But Maya stayed, still fascinated by the shadows she created. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she was startled momentarily before running inside me. ‘Look at that!’ she cheered. Her arms stretched toward the only arm visible of my golden guest. Maya grabbed the arm and started pulling. She pulled and pulled. Family continued calling her, but she tore the box open. Unfortunately, my golden guest remained very much stuck. 

‘’Stop it,’’ Man said, and Woman whispered. ‘’You know she likes gold.’’

‘’For God’s sake, what do you want?’’ Man responded, walking toward Maya, gripping the arm she held tightly, and wiggling my golden guest side to side, a little up and further down. I understood very well that he didn’t wonder what she wanted. I was enlightened by this valuable insight many years ago—Families often ask each other questions when they already know the answer. They just want to let the other person know they wouldn’t have done it that way.  

Then she appeared. Heavy, probably, because even Man seemed to find it challenging to lift her with one arm. She was stunning beyond my imagination. It felt like decades since I last saw her. Her entire body engraved, like tattoos, bringing depth to the surface. She was gold up and down, back and forth. I couldn’t figure out if it was real gold or just a convincing imitation, but she wore it with pride, queen-like. Family placed her on top of the box they had just brought in. Maya ran toward it and traced the tattoos with her tiny fingers. Her eyes twinkled. 

‘Jesus…’ Woman said. ‘I’d forgotten about that one.’ 

‘I didn’t.’ Man clenched his teeth. ‘The last time I saw it…’ 

‘Christmas 2016,’ they said in unison as they smiled. It wasn’t a smile people have when they trip over an object, or if someone says something surprising. It was the kind of smile that fades the moment it appears. ‘It’s a shame, really.’ 

‘I think that was the last time we were all together as a family.’ Man sighed. ‘Maya wasn’t even born yet.’ 

‘If you knew then—’ 

‘I knew.’ Man said, his eyes flickering, blinking hard. ‘She served cold soup, asked me three times if my wife was coming even though you sat next to me, and we found her glasses melted in the oven.’ 

It went quiet for a little while. 

‘Was this grandma’s?’ Maya asked. 

‘Yes, dear.’ Woman answered, still looking at Man. ‘Would you have held her if you knew it was the last time?’ she asked, and Man shrugged his shoulders. 

‘I suppose not.’

Man stared at Maya playing for a while. ‘’She was the center. Everything revolved around her. If it wasn’t her day, she’d set fire to everything around her.’’ He glanced back at Woman. ‘’It was like she needed her pain to be everyone else’s. As if she could only bear it if others felt the same, or worse.’’

‘’Still, I don’t want you to go through it like you did when your father passed. Visiting might help.’’ 

‘’I miss grandma,’’ Maya said. ‘’When are we going to see her again?’’

Woman kneeled next to Maya. ‘’I’ve told you, honey, your grandmother is lost.’’

‘’Something can’t be lost if you know where to find it.’’ 

‘’Sometimes it can.’’ Woman replied. Maya squeezed her eyes shut and stuck out her tongue. ‘’It’s true, though. But I’ll explain when you’re a bit older.’’ She lifted Maya in her arms. 

Maya stretched her little arms to my golden guest. ‘’No, wait! We can’t leave her!’’

Woman looked hopefully at Man. He turned and walked out. 

‘’We’ll pick her up later.’’

‘’Do you think grandma finally learned my name? She had a lot of time to practice!’’ Maya asked as the flimsy doors closed behind them.

She was left then and there. Graceful, stately, and alone. Her arms high in the air, as if she could carry everything forever. She had re-risen. After endless drowning, her arms stretched out against an inevitable fall. I whispered and asked how she was, but I couldn’t whisper, nor could she. So she stood there. High and proud on a new pedestal. Her cups sat empty, as if they’d never been warm. We need others to fill us. To tell that we’re of use. I never needed this meaning. I am only walls and echoes. I keep memories and find meaning in the fact that someone small would always consider what was left behind.