The Bracelet

A story about the intrinsic value of material objects--and all of their attached memories...

“Don’t you think it’s time to get rid of the bracelet?” asked her boyfriend, annoyed. He’d gotten scratched, poked and maimed by it numerous times, and he was tired of it.

It was orange silicone with sharp spikes. Well, it wasn’t originally orange; it had started out as a bright punk-rock red that slowly faded over time.

And now he wanted her to get rid of it.

Could she part with it so easily? There were other bracelets, she knew. Her boyfriend even tried bribing her with a new charm bracelet she’s had her eye on for a while, but still she insisted on keeping it.

It just had so much history.

She’s had the bracelet for so long, she’d forgotten when it was purchased.  As far as she can remember, she had it through her secondary schooling, her short lived college career, and all through the short-lived, never ending string of retail jobs.

It was there when she went to her first rave and tried “E” for the first time. It was there for the prom; it gave her an edge that made her well noticed. It was there when she lost her virginity with the “love of her life“---and it was there when she caught him f*****g her cousin, too. It was there when she got mugged--even gouged a piece of her attacker. It was there through…everything she could remember in the last ten years, and she could hardly remember ever taking it off….

Well, at one point, she had tried taking it off, just for a little while. But the unforgiving bracelet sensed the betrayal and refused to come off…it had so much history, after all. It was made of silicone and as she never took it off it got comfortable and hardened; assuming it would never be replaced… She didn’t want to replace it, really. She was just going to a semi-formal affair where the spikes would have been out of place.

She had to opt for a strategically tied scarf instead.

Through all the heartaches, the teenage angst, all the misery, the triumphs…the bracelet was there.

It had become an inexplicable part of her.

When she got promoted to Jewelry Specialist, her co-workers thought it was quirky, and all the teenage customers thought it was awesome. Her manager didn’t approve of it at all; said she should only wear jewelry from the store; to be a walking promotion of sorts. She bought other bracelets and wore them with the spiked one, but never took it off. It clashed mightily, but she refused to get rid of it, and her manager gave up.

Through all of her multiple failures and (less often) successes, the bracelet shone, sharp and cool as ever.

When she met her current boyfriend, he thought it was awesome…made her look like a lovechild of 80’s punk and 90’s grunge, he said. He even thought it was kind of kinky when it would scratch him during sex.

Now it was the bane of his existence, and he bade her to get rid of it.

Her reasoning was he found her with it, and if he didn’t like it, well…too bad.

“You’re being childish,” said he.

Was she being childish? Maybe so. It WAS just a dumb bracelet after all, right?

One day he comes home with a wrapped box.

“OK, how about this: you take off the bracelet, and I have a ready replacement for it…so your wrist doesn’t get too lonely.” says he with a goofy, yet wicked smile.

“I can’t take it off; we’ve established this before--” before she could finish, he whipped out a pair of scissors.

“I already got it covered,” said he. “Seriously, it’s time to grow up, Liv. Think of it as a step up into the world of adulthood. It’s way past due.” He handed her the scissors.

“I’ll…give you a moment alone; to say goodbye and whatnot,” he said sarcastically. With that, he left her alone--with the scissors, the wrapped box, and her thoughts.

Her beloved bracelet…It was her symbol of Rebellion--and she clung to it desperately. It reminded her that although she’d become all of which she was against (working for “the man“, settling down), there was still a shred left of her other self…a self she desperately hoped to get back to.

But maybe he was right; maybe it was all childish illusion, and she should cut it off and move on with her life…

Before she could even give it another thought, she cut off the spikes, ripped open the wrapped box and stared at her new acquisition. It was silver with a single heart charm and her initials. It looked almost formal. She slipped it on. It was cold, and seemed out of place on her wrist, in her life. It felt…so foreign, so strange.

But yet…it felt so right.

As she got up to look at herself in the mirror with her shiny new bauble, the remains of her old life fell to the carpet, and she didn’t spare it a second glance.

Reviews

[Collette]

interesting story....like the butterfly metamorphasis. You did an excellent job giving life to you character Liv. I could visualize her in my mind easily. My only critique would be, perhaps more information on the boyfriend. Maybe a short physical description? It felt as though I couldn't tell what his style was, or who he really was, aside from his distaste of the bracelet. Perhaps you wanted the entire piece to focus solely on Liv? Either way, I really liked the concept and the piece itself. Reminded me a bit of my own rebellious days. haha, great job!