For our eleventh anniversary’s gift of steel, you bought me a car. A sleek, silver bullet promising to stand the test of time. It was a sharp roadster, just two seats. You called it a perfect symbol for you and me.
By our twelfth anniversary’s gift of silk and pearl, my wedding dress was its only passenger when you traded it in for a newer model.
When he gives me the necklace, he says he chose it to match my beautiful eyes. Turquoise blue he says, even though my eyes are sea green. He fixes me with a look. A look saying, don’t challenge me. A look saying, never challenge me.
I know he wants me to be grateful for his choosing the gemstones. He wants me to smile and bow my head while he fastens the catch at the back of my head.
I let my hair fall forward to cover my face. A snatched interlude when I can purse my lips and prepare myself, eyes closed.
He snags my hair in the fastening.
“Sorry,” he says, when I jump at the hurt and he gives my neck a kiss, but he’s smiling and he’s not sorry and he keeps a hand on my neck.
“Thank you,” I say, looking up at him, steady. “It’s beautiful.”
And he looks at me with satisfaction like he’s decorated a cake or re-arranged the living-room furniture. Like he’s displayed the books on the shelves by the colours on their dust jackets or arranged his records in alphabetical order.
And I’m calculating under his appraisal. How much I could get at the pawn shop? How soon I could say I mislaid it? And will the consequences be worth it?
He’s given me turquoise stones, but I know his true gift is also unyielding. It’s hard as nails, brittle steel. A gift he’s chosen for our married life. A gift he keeps on giving.
Steel Anniversary
This is
National Flash Fiction Day's eleventh anniversary, so this year, all our
prompts have something to do with the number 11....
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According to those lists that try to get you to spend lots of money on anniversaries, the traditional gift for eleventh anniversaries is steel. (The modern gift is apparently fashion jewellery, but we digress.)
For this prompt, write a story about an eleventh anniversary, and a gift that misses the mark.
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If you’re submitting this to us, make sure to note that this is a response to Prompt 7: Steel Anniversary.
You can submit responses until 23:59 BST on Sunday, 19 June 2022 for a chance to be published here at The Write-In.
