I have put twelve plastic boxes at the front of the lawn, lids off. I have sorted as much as I can:
Magazines, vinyl, books, crockery, DIY, clothing. Then it gets random. Piles of miscellany spill out as if someone has got the recycling hideously jumbled.
Dan is forever bringing home items that catch his magpie eye. Coils of wire, kept in the drawer “just in case”; nails, rusty grubby long things, silver new stubby ones; a white feather. Any old shit really. Like a cat offering its mauled love, he keeps on giving crap.
I have written “ENTIRE LIFE FOR SALE” in black marker pen, uneven capital letters on a piece of cardboard ripped from the side of a box. I lean it against a chair, once tan leather, reupholstered in black fabric–now worn white where too many legs have rubbed against it. Hardly practical, is it?
“I love you.”
“Yeah, and?”
“I love you.”
His answer for everything.
He loves me even though I am a failure as a wife/lover/friend.
Even though I never once cook him dinner, or manage to wash the dishes in time for his return from work.
He brings me a newspaper that has been discarded on the train, and makes me a coffee to accompany it whilst he rolls up shirtsleeves and fills the washing-up bowl with suds. Or a flower from a neighbour’s garden, a discounted cheesecake from the “just past sell date” shelf in the corner shop, a lucky money spider he’d found in the hedge outside.
That hedge, actually. Great green bushy thing that expands when I don’t look.
I pick up a spade and begin to dig. I’ll add it to the life sale, someone else can have the fucking thing. It’s hot now I’m digging. Slidey heat dripping from my forehead. The roots seem to go a long way down. Stuck fast.
“Hey. What are you doing?” Dan asks.
“Putting the hedge in the sale.”
“Do you need a hand?”
I pass the spade over. Let him do the grunt work.
“You look hot,” he says.
“Mmm.”
“I’ll fetch you a drink.”
He puts the shovel on the ground, and goes inside. Returns with a glass of something clear and fizzy. I sit and watch him as he carries the boxes back indoors, three at a time, stacked atop each other. I don’t say anything. It doesn’t seem to take long. He returns and crouches by the chair. Picks up the cardboard sign.
“How much do you want for it, then?” he says.
“Huh?”
“Your entire life. How much?”
“Make me an offer.”
He puts his hand in his pocket, pulls out his crappy old pouch and tips it upside down. A few coins plop onto the scrubby grass, one folded note.
“That’ll do,” I say.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
It seems enough.
Sara Crowley writes out of West Sussex, UK.
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33 Responses to “THE COLLECTOR OF SHINY • by Sara Crowley”
Comments
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November 23rd, 2008 at 1:06 am
When my mother was feeling low, she used to say that she was “down in the dumps”. I guess we all visit there from time to time, don’t we?
Nice story, Sara.
November 23rd, 2008 at 3:47 am
Sarah
This is brilliant. A gem. Perfect. 10/5
Nuff said.
November 23rd, 2008 at 3:48 am
… sorry I mean Sara!!
November 23rd, 2008 at 5:32 am
Well done.
November 23rd, 2008 at 6:52 am
Full of emotion, Sara. Your characters are real and compelling. K.C. is right on the money and so are you: we all have days like this. Great job capturing the testy, brooding angst of it.
November 23rd, 2008 at 7:20 am
What a cute little story. You can tell the couple really care for each other.
November 23rd, 2008 at 7:33 am
Thank you so much for taking the time to comment, I really appreciate it. This is a love story really, I think.
: )
November 23rd, 2008 at 7:38 am
I love it, simple, sly, and honest. As ever, you are good, damn good.
November 23rd, 2008 at 7:42 am
Really enjoyed this! Reminds me of some people I know. Actually, sounds a lot like me and hubby.
November 23rd, 2008 at 7:43 am
Like it, Sara! All that crap he keeps bringing her – she’s very patient!
November 23rd, 2008 at 8:49 am
So sweet – he brings her what he can, which is all she needs.
We’re being inundated with Sara(h)s though !
November 23rd, 2008 at 9:04 am
Great story, Sara.
November 23rd, 2008 at 9:10 am
I remember this one! Congrats, Sara.
November 23rd, 2008 at 9:23 am
I like this very much, Sara. I get the sense the woman is a depressive, but it’s so subtlely played. I like his quiet acceptance of her digging up the hedge, the help he offers and the way his steadiness helps to steady her. It felt simple yet complex, layered. My favourite sort of writing. Five stars from me.
November 23rd, 2008 at 9:25 am
Nice work, Sara. You’ve captured something very real here, the realities of love and living together and life. I really enjoyed it.
November 23rd, 2008 at 9:41 am
A great piece of flash, Sara.
November 23rd, 2008 at 10:07 am
Sara, you’ve made me feel so ignoble as a member of the male species. Forty years ago, my wife said I could go do anything I wanted if I’d give her US$10 thousand. I haven’t come up with the money yet, but we’re still married and I bring her coffee in bed. Isn’t that worth something?
November 23rd, 2008 at 10:08 am
Sara, this really spoke to me. I think Sarah H. above said it best – “felt simple yet complex, layered.” My thoughts exactly!
Also, I loved the title.
November 23rd, 2008 at 11:03 am
Splendid story, Sara! Love the hedge, and how his love for her cancels out her own self-loathing.
November 23rd, 2008 at 12:16 pm
Nice story.
Nik
November 23rd, 2008 at 12:23 pm
Wow! Thank you so much for all your comments, you are all so kind.
Sarah H, that was exactly how I pictured their relationship; how fab that it came across.
November 24th, 2008 at 5:55 am
I’m chuffed that I got it right, Sara! All kudos to your writing, though. It was all there, the reader just needed to read deep which, as I say, is my favourite kind of reading.
November 25th, 2008 at 5:35 am
What a lovely story Sara…made me think about a few things xxx
November 25th, 2008 at 1:56 pm
It affected me. liked how the hedge’s roots went down far -like their relationship. wanted to reread it. very good.
November 27th, 2008 at 10:35 am
Hi Sara,
I love the title (always makes me want to read more – a good title). Love this line too: ‘Like a cat offering its mauled love, he keeps on giving crap.’
I think the husband is v sweet and they both get a lot from being together.
Very enjoyable.
WRW x
November 29th, 2008 at 10:53 pm
Aw, what a sad-sweet story. I liked it! Gave it 4 stars.
November 30th, 2008 at 10:58 am
That was a great story, with such a lovely ending.
I definitely enjoyed it.
December 8th, 2008 at 9:28 am
Like your style Sara C
The characters are something special. Both of them.
Great work for so few words.
April 3rd, 2009 at 11:18 am
Ouuu I’m a year late in saying so but Titi it’s great!
July 30th, 2009 at 7:12 am
I lurched to a halt after you couldn’t marry your tenses up – “I never once cookED him dinner or manageD to wash the dishes”
And so will any editor or reader. At least take the time to proofread your work. ugh.
July 30th, 2009 at 11:56 am
Beautiful flash, loved it – and absolutely no problem with the tenses, it’s all in the present tense, they are still together, she is still not cooking him dinner or managing to wash the dishes, Chris – don’t consign this relationship to the past too soon!
July 30th, 2009 at 1:18 pm
Tania. I was just thinking the same thing. The cooking and washing is an ongoing act of daily repetition…so present tense is perfectly correct.
Chris at least check your grammatical knowledge and read the piece carefully before lambasting a good writer. Double ugh.
July 30th, 2009 at 11:37 pm
Chris, at least take the time to proofread your comment. That ‘ugh’ should have a cap. Although actually, it has no place in the discussion, as Tania and Julia have pointed out.