Glass Lovers

A Glass Love Story 

 
    The sun entered the sitting room like an owner who needed no permission. It warmed the dark red and cream figured rug on the hard wood floor. It caressed the overstuffed velveteen sofa, insinuating itself into all of its dimples and crevasses. Only a crystal stork knick-knack on an oak end table resisted the sun. The stork broke the clean white rays into fiery bands of red, orange, and yellow. It separated the beams into cooler colors, too, green, blue, indigo, and violet, and spread these colors on the beige sitting room wall.


    The ceramic mallard watched every day as his admired friend, the stork, shattered and disbursed the sun's rays. The mallard sat on the same oak table with the stork. He was a soup tureen, but had never been used as such. The mallard hoped no guest would use him as an ash tray.

    Winter waxed and waned. In the patient way of crystal and ceramics, the mallard's sense of admiration deepened and ripened into something akin to love for the crystal stork. The regally tall stork stood with its neck arched in a lie about pride. The stork noticed the mallard below, postured as if swimming, its sturdy thighs pumping imagined broad web feet. The left wing had not been completely tucked and suggested that flight was an option. Over time the stork, too, began to enjoy the company of the mallard and, eventually, to return his love.

    The notion of companionably shared silence can leaven and enrich a relationship. Too much of this good thing, however, becomes turgid and boring even to an inanimate crystal stork. Some self-denial and patience adds sweetness to the ultimate consummation of a love. But as seasons rolled into years, and years into decades, the mallard's physical urges (never very strong) became blunted. Still, the stork and the mallard never quarrelled. They never allowed their eyes to rove to other birds. There were no friction-producing conflicts over children, sex, or money. When they noticed each other the stork's fine and graceful lines still appealed to the mallard, just as the stocky strength and rakish wing of the mallard still brought a small thrill to the stork.

      One day men in white cover-alls, carrying cardboard boxes, came into the sitting room. Neither the crystal stork nor the ceramic duck so much as blinked an eye.

    One of the men told the other, "Be careful of these birds. They could be valuable."

    The second man questioned, "Pack 'em in foam?"

    "Yes, and make sure no glass touches any other glass."

      When they were unpacked the stork and the duck noted new surroundings. The stork stood on a shelf with a wooden clock and another piece of crystal, a small vase. The shelf was part of a tastefully furnished room with dusty rose walls and light gray carpet.  In the afternoon and evening the sun streamed through a large bay window and, as before, the crystal stork was able to separate its light waves into bands and broadcast them onto a white linen table cloth in the next room. While the ceramic duck was nowhere to be seen, the stork knew where he was. As the stork went up on her shelf, she overheard a conversation.

      "Oh, a duck. Grandma loved birds," said a woman.

        A man answered, "Yes, but look. This one is a soup tureen. See how his back comes off and his wing is the ladle?"

        "Good. We'll keep this one on the buffet, right here in the dining room."

        The duck did not have long to wait for his own clue about the stork's new home. That afternoon he glanced at the dining table, with its white linen cloth, and saw the bright rainbow of color in the shape he had long enjoyed. The crystal stork was in the next room.

        A long time passed. The light gray carpet became threadbare. The white linen table cloth yellowed. The homeowners changed appearances. His hair became gray and thin. Her hair became gray too, and she became plump, then fat. They spoke of their area "going bad." Now they always locked the door. They spent long evenings in companionable silence. The crystal stork and the ceramic duck, through all these changes around them, remained the same.

        One fine May evening the owners went out to dinner and a movie, a rare treat for them. Shortly after they left, the stork and the duck heard a loud noise as a pair of intruders jimmied the door. They entered with a burlap bag, which they began to quickly fill.

        "There's nothing here we can even sell," said the smaller one.

        The taller thief replied, ""Maybe this glass stuff has some value. Hurry up and throw it in the bag."

      As they hastily threw her into the bag, the crystal stork fell roughly onto the vase and shattered her delicate neck. When the burglars threw the ceramic duck into the bag there was a sharp crack and he broke in two. Later, when the thieves assessed their take, they saw the damage.

        "Take these to pieces out to the swamp and throw them in," said the tall robber. "That way there will be no evidence to ever connect us with that house."

        Not one to argue, the smaller burglar did as he was told, tossing the remains of the crystal stork and the ceramic duck deep into the swamp.

        Ruined fragments of crystal and ceramic mixed together, united on the warm wet swamp bed.

        "It's you, isn't it?" asked the ceramic duck.

        "Yes, my love. We are together at last," answered the crystal stork.

        Now a visitor to the swamp may notice the light winking off the water in a particularly cheerful way. The visitor may even see a small rainbow forming above the reflected water of the swamp. Those happy sights just may be the crystal stork and the ceramic duck welcoming the visitor to their home in the swamp.

997 words