Gilda's Locket Read Online Free PDF Page B

owned; half of them stacked in the kitchen,
the other half littering the bedside table and dresser-top. One of
the bottles of sleeping pills was empty, and the other rapidly on
its way there. She disinterestedly wondered what she would do when
she ran out.
    She was so groggy from all the drugs sloshing
around in her system that she didn’t dare to try and drive, and she
didn’t know anyone who she trusted to bring them to her. She’d
cross that bridge when she came to it, she decided.
    Meanwhile, photo albums were strewn all
around the living room, pictures had been removed and scattered
here and there. Some of them had been trimmed down to fit the
locket, their trimmings remaining on table tops as well as the
floor, and two or three pairs of scissors were scattered around the
living room. All in all, her home was in complete disarray, the
likes of which it had never seen. And she didn’t care. Not in the
least.
    She was preparing for her third round of
sleep Sunday night, this time a picture of the whole family
ensconced within the confines of the locket. The picture was one of
the happiest memories she could recall in her groggy state. Glowing
smiles radiated from the faces of Eldon, Scott, Cynthia, and
herself. It was Christmastime, the year before Cynthia had died.
Even then the little girl was sick, though none of them knew it.
They could never have suspected what the new year would bring, or
how quickly she would go, while her suffering seemed drawn out and
never-ending.
    Gilda was stumbling her groggy way to the
bedroom, trying to devise a plan to make this easier on herself
(maybe she should just move all the albums to the bedroom, and
maybe take a couple jugs of water with them; but she was too weary
to contemplate the effort just now), when it happened.
    Her foot caught on a time-worn rumple in the
rug. A ridge she knew all too well was there, one she had deftly
avoided for years, but in her drug-addled state, had completely
forgotten about. She pitched forward, throwing out her hands
instinctively to catch herself. Not that it helped. In fact, it
only made things worse. She went down like a tumble of bricks,
while at the same time, the locket flew from her hand, struck the
wall, and fell to the floor in two pieces.
    Completely ignoring the pain shooting through
her hip, she crawled forward and grasped at the locket. She hauled
herself to a seated position, leaning against the wall, and tried
to fit the two pieces together again. It was no use. The hinge was
broken, as was the clasp, and the picture hung lopsided from its
original position.
    “No, no, noo, noooo!” she moaned.
    Tears trickled from her eyes as she tried
over and over again to fit the locket together. But it was to no
avail. It simply would not go back together.
    What if it didn’t work now? What if all the
magic in it was broken in the same way the hinge and clasp were?
What if her blessed dreams were gone? What then? She had finally
found something worth living for. What was there now without the
wonderful escape of that magical dream-filled sleep?
    No! She would not have it! Could not have it!
She would fix it. There was more than one way to skin a cat!
    Stumbling to a standing position once more,
she made her way feebly back to the kitchen. She was going to have
to be very careful. Very careful indeed. A quick glance at the
clock told her it was just now getting on to evening. With any luck
the jeweler would still have his shop open. He could fix it. He
must fix it. At any cost! She had been about to slip on her jacket
when she realized that she was still only dressed in a nightgown.
There was nothing to be done about it. She had to take the time to
clean up a bit and get dressed. She couldn’t go stumbling into the
jewelry shop in a nightgown and slippers at five in the evening.
They’d lock her up for sure.
    As rapidly as she could, she dressed, washed
her face, and combed her hair, (the first time she done so in over
a week); and then