The Dead Woman's Necklace

I am wearing the dead woman's necklace.

Some time ago, the woman who owned it died not knowing that years later a girl who did not even know her last name would be wearing her jewellery.

It was not only her last name I did not know, I didn't know her at all. It was a sunny day, and I had returned from the supermarket to find that I had locked my keys inside the house. Actually, no, I tell a lie. I hadn't locked the house to begin with, but had left the door ajar so that it looked closed. When I returned, the wind had decided that I should be punished for my carelessness.

I sat on the top of the stairs and hoped that Matt would come home sooner rather than later so that I would be able to get into the house. Gary, our sixty-something neighbour had his door open and I could hear him rummaging around inside. He liked to do this every so often, "spring clean" his mother's apartment. Soon enough he came out with a bag of rubbish.

"Oh!" He said when he saw me.

"Yeah. I locked my keys inside."

"That's not good."

"No. But Matt will be coming home soon so it should be okay."

I moved across the step to give him room to get out. When he came back up, empty handed, he looked at me and suddenly said,

"Oh! I have something for you." And without any further explanation, walked back into his flat letting the screen door slam behind him. He returned just as abruptly holding an outdated trinket.

"I found this and it reminded me of you." He said, offering me the large green and black beaded necklace. Interesting, because it was not a piece of jewelry that I might have otherwise considered. I might even have described it as "ugly".

"It was my mother's. If you don't want it I'll take it to the op shop." He finished. I don't think he had seen my initial distaste, he was simply taking the pressure off his simple offering. How could I say no? I accepted it graciously and let him go about the rest of his business.

I remained sitting at the top of the stairs after that, mostly because I still couldn't get into the house, running my fingers over the beads. Through the entire time we had lived in that block, my conversations with Gary had been limited. They were confined to small talk, but while we did not have much to say to each other he obviously appreciated my presence. When I would return from a trip he would say "glad to have you back", which would always surprise me because never did I expect him to notice my absence.

This small, unexpected token was yet another indication that he appreciated my presence. It made me feel warm, appreciated, a good person. Gary was lonely. He lived alone in the apartment that he had inherited after his mother's death, maintained the communal garden and sat on the bus stop watching cars driving by in the late afternoons. And while he did not really know me at all, he had felt comfortable enough to offer me his mother's necklace. It was almost like he had adopted me as a surrogate niece.

I didn't think I would ever wear it, but I am wearing it today.

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