Yes, That’s Really a Padlock On My Necklace

They’d said I could have coffee or hot chocolate while I waited, so of course I had made a cup of the Dove hot chocolate.  They seemed to have a lot more of that than they did coffee packages.  I can’t imagine why.

I’d cried in the car a little bit before I went in, on the phone with Daddy and a little worried about what they might find.  I didn’t want to go in for x-rays, but He was right, I would do it because it needed to be done, because if there are answers to be had I won’t stop poking until I get them, but mostly because He’d said I had to.

I was doing okay as I blew on my scalding hot liquid chocolate, sipping just a little and trying not to burn myself.  The nurse startled me when she said my name, since I had just set my things down.  I awkwardly picked them back up again with one hand, juggling my hot chocolate in the other, and followed her down a hallway.

I had just finished arranging my bag, purse, bottle of water, and hot chocolate on the counter when she ordered me to remove my necklace.

Startled, I stammered, “I.. I don’t know if I can.”  I knew I would get permission to remove it but didn’t have a key in my new purse.  I’d carried one before in the side pouch for emergencies, which turned out to be a good thing when I’d gone in for my last mammogram, which I’m convinced is where sadistic nurses ask to be assigned.

The nurse wasn’t in a hurry and indicated she would wait for me to remove it.  I turned my back so she wouldn’t see the expression on my face and quickly texted Daddy for permission.  Fortunately, He must have been paying attention to his phone after having dealt with me crying on the other end shortly before and quickly gave His permission.  He asked if I had a key.

I didn’t.  I was going to have to pick the lock.

I could feel tears flooding my eyes and threatening to spill over. I attempted to blink them away as I desperately tried to negotiate the locking mechanism from top down with the smallest key I had on my key ring, the key to my gun case, because Texas.  I could feel the despair and panic rising, and my breath hitched.

I touched my bracelet.  I knew what Daddy would say if he were there.  Breathe, baby.  It’s okay.  It’s just for a minute.  I could almost feel the comforting weight of His hands stroking my hair.

I stopped struggling with the lock and thought about the way the key moved, sliding my makeshift key at an angle instead.  I was rewarded with the tiny springing sound of the release.  Good girl, His deep voice whispered.

The lock dropped into my hand, so small for the weight it carries.  I stared at it a little numbly, the stainless steel of my collar still draped across my collarbone.

A black hole may have opened in that office, because in that moment, time seemed to stand still.  The movement of my hand as it reached up to tug the chain stretched out into eternity.  I felt every dip and groove of the chain of hearts slide roughly against my skin, tumbling down to rest solidly in my palm.

I stared at the tiny cluster of chains for a moment, as if I had never seen them before.  Zombie-like, I reported my success to the nurse, who bustled to complete her paperwork.

Three photos and we were done.  It seemed so much more monumental, as if it should have had a moment of silence to commemorate.

But the rest of the world turns as it will.

The nurse watched me put my collar back on.  “Is that a real padlock?” she asked, her voice suddenly a little too high-pitched.

“Yes,” I said, calmly.

I did not elaborate.