The Unforgettable Gift (2 page)

                Ryan looked around, and observed the day. The park
seemed to be the only part of the city where people didn’t move like they were
in fast-forward. In that moment, he found it strange that the sun seemed to be
smiling at him. Part of him still felt much like a murderer. Every time he’d go
into the barn to feed the cattle, he would linger a while in front of where
Rachel used to stay. A part of him would act confused and ask, “Did Rachel get
out of the barn or something?” But another would harshly remind him, “No,
stupid. She’s dead. You killed her. Remember?”

                As he recalled the morning where a customer bought a
steak that came from Rachel, Ryan remembered his dad beaming and bragging, “My
son got this one all by himself. They grow up so fast.” Ryan recalled his mixed
feelings; how despite the warmth his father’s pride had given him, he still
felt like hurling. How once he’d stuck the knife into her heart, the rest felt
easy; like doing a regular household chore.

                Ryan shook his head, trying to shake away the red
thoughts. He tried to focus his attention on the beauty of the afternoon. He
tried to smile at how the bench he sat on left the middle third of his

butt awkwardly clenched between two planks. He tried to imagine what
could have happened to that middle plank; where it could have gone and the
things it must have seen. He concluded that it was probably a helpless victim
to the crazy city-folk disease. Those people always needed to look busy; even
if it meant being busy removing the middle plank of a park bench.

                And as Ryan imagined what people in suits looked
like when they were trying to remove that middle plank, the sharp memory of him
cleaning out Rachel’s guts hit him like a horse’s back kick to the jaw.
Painful. But when you grow up on a farm, you learn to take the hits without
getting knocked out. The pain stays. Lingers.

                He tried to look for something else to think about.
That was the tricky thing about parks. In the busier part of the city, there
was a lot to distract you. Bright, moving lights, people moving about, people
handing out flyers, a man with a cardboard sign raving about how the end of the
world is nearing, cars honking their horns, drivers screaming abuse at each
other. In that simple park, sitting on that incomplete bench, there wasn’t much
to see, and there wasn’t much to listen to. There was the occasional person
walking his dog.

                When a random jogger passed Ryan, he noticed that
she had headphones on. He wondered what they were for, and why she was running.
If she was running from something, why on earth would she cover her ears? He
wondered what it was like, to not be able to hear absolutely everything around
you. He thought it strange that people put on things like that. Then he thought
about how Rachel made no sound when she died, and he shuddered. 

                Ryan looked down at his feet, and pondered upon his
leather shoes. He wondered if the cow that was sacrificed for his pair suffered
much. H
e wondered if its executioner was as merciful, or
if he was even emotionally attached to the creature the way he had been to Rachel.
He wondered if not having any emotional attachment to an animal made it easier
to kill it. He wondered if it was even possible not to have any emotional
attachment to an animal; especially if you raised it from birth, watched it
grow up, cared for it when it was sick and fed it every day.

                “Ryan?”

                When Ryan looked up, there she stood. Amy looked, to
him, like an angel descended from the heavens. Her straight, blonde hair looked
smooth as silk. Not a single strand seemed to be out of place. Her eyes were
like sapphires; blue like the ocean, its surface reflecting the sunlight,
making it shine, underneath a whole other world, beautiful beyond
comprehension. Her dress was white and flowed very nicely as a very slight,
almost imperceptible, breeze gave it a gentle life and movement.

                Ryan stood up.

“Hi,” he felt himself blushing, somewhat excited to see what her
reaction would be to his gift.

                “Hi,” she smiled back.

                “I made something for ya,” he held out the gift in
his hand, “Happy birthday.”

                Amy carefully unwrapped the rope and paper to reveal
a necklace. But it was no ordinary necklace. Attached to a long loop of simple
black string was a white stone in the shape of a heart. It was shiny and smooth
to the touch. And engraved on the front, in less than flattering letters, was
her name.

                “Is this ivory?” she asked, somewhat horrified. Amy
loved animals herself, and she couldn’t stand the idea of elephants being
killed just for their tusks.

                “Nah. But it’s close, isn’t it?” Ryan beamed
proudly. “I made it out of cattle bones. Took a lot of work and polishing.
Sorry if the letters aren’t so nice…”

                Ryan recalled the extremely long process involved
and smiled to himself. All the memories that kept him pushing forward rushed
back to him in little bits and pieces, and he felt his smile growing. He was
quite pleased with the outcome of his efforts, but it only mattered if Amy was
happy.

                “It’s perfect,” Amy put it around her neck. She
walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. She unflinchingly kissed him,
“Thank you.”

                Ryan and Amy walked down the path, hand in hand. Amy
was clutching the heart on her necklace with the other, thinking, “This is the
best birthday I’ve ever had, with the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”