The Lucienne Twins

Part 4: The Locket

I never realized it, but the school day only revealed a small portion of the Abigail's quirks. There were small things she did, things so innocuous that they went unnoticed until one day they became far too obvious. Like the way she climbed the stairs. It was as if she held a weight, and each step was a struggle. Or how she ate far more than should have been healthy for her age. Or her obsession with anything old.

The adoption process went smoothly, especially since the end of the year had arrived and she was no longer in my class. By the end of the week we returned to her house to collect her things.

The local authorities had removed the body of her mother. The videotape was all the evidence they required for her cause of death. There was no funeral since Abigail was her last living relative.

As I brought boxes from my car, Abigail rushed to her room, sliding out a chest from underneath her bed and throwing it open. A dozen objects rattled about the inside and she touched each to to make sure it was there. There was a picture, so faded that I couldn't make it out, a shoelace, a ring, and a bottle cap among her treasures.

And there, among the trash, shined Bridget's locket.

"Abigail, what are these?" I asked, picking up the ring.

"Don't touch that Miss Mary! It'll make you sad." Said Abigail, pushing my hand down.

"Why's that, Abigail? I think it's pretty."

"Pretty things can be sad too Miss Mary. And that one there," She pointed to the bottle cap, "Makes me feel happy. But the baseball, the ball makes me angry. So angry." She clenched a fist.

"Why would you hold it then?"

"For their stories. Sometimes I like feeling angry. Bridget likes feeling angry."

"Who did these belong to?"

"I don't know all of them. But they're gone now. This is all that's left, just the pieces they left behind."

"Abigail, how does the locket make you feel?" I asked.

"The locket puts me to sleep Miss Mary. Bridget loves it when I wear it, but I think it makes me sleep too much sometimes."

She took the box to my car and put it in the backseat. When she wasn't looking, I took it back to the kitchen and hid it in the cupboard. She needed real toys to play with, and I had made up my mind to stamp out some of Abigail's stranger habits.

But when we finished packing up, and I returned to the car, the box was on the dashboard. Abigail had not left my sight the entire trip.

As we pulled into the parking space at my apartment, Hank my Border Collie scrambled out the doggie door to meet her. Abigail outstretched a hand to pet him and his ears folded as his tail tucked between his legs. When her fingers brushed against his fur he growled, baring his teeth and backing into the house.

After we finished unpacking, Abigail helped me cook dinner. I decided upon
Chicken Parmesan and gave her the task of picking basil and oregano from my windowsill herb garden. I minced them and combined them in the sauce, and Abigail said it was the best meal that she had eaten in weeks. Compared to gummy worm sandwiches, I'm sure that it was.

After dinner, we listened to the tinkling of a piano from the apartment upstairs. An old lady lived up there, Ms. Hawthorne, and she taught lessons in the evening to pay for rent.

"Can't I learn?" Asked Abigail, and immediately I agreed. This was just the hobby she needed.

I introduced her to Ms. Hawthorne the next day, and the old lady smiled, pinching Abigail's cheek.