The Locket

Some years ago when I was a senior in college, I wanted to get my girlfriend, Gina, something special for Valentine's Day. Gina had a very earthy quality about her. She wasn't blond, bony and plastic like so many mass produced Barbies. Although she was born in New York, her Italian heritage shown through as if she had just stepped off a ship from Milan. Her light brown eyes were a captivating contrast to her rich, long black hair that curled ever so slightly at the ends. She had full, red lips with a smile that could warm the coldest and dreariest of days. Describing her body as sexy and sensual would have been like saying a Stradivarius is a pretty good fiddle. And every single quality of her physical beauty was equaled by some aspect of her inner beauty. No matter how angry, sad or upset I was, she could instantly change my mood for the better simply by holding me her in her arms. As long as I had her by my side, the earth was heaven.

I didn't have much money to spend on her gift, but I did have enough for a little heart-shaped locket. It was gold plated and about one inch by one inch. Certainly big enough for a small photo, but instead I had it engraved. The father of a friend of mine was a jeweler and he was nice enough to do it for free. I asked him to engrave the word "love" inside on both sides of the locket, a number of times, in different sizes and fonts, to symbolize the fact that I loved Gina in many different ways. Romantically. Sexually. As a companion. A confidant.

Her parents were kind enough to have dinner out on Valentine's Day, so Gina and I were able to spend a nice, quiet, romantic evening alone at her house. After dinner, I presented her with the locket as well as a card.

"I wanted to get you something very special, so I decided to give you the most precious thing I have," I told her.

She opened up the box and then the locket. She was delighted with my present. Then I told her to look at the card. After opening the envelope, she read the card and began to cry. Through her tears, she read aloud what I had written.

"The most precious gift I could ever give you, is all the love I have in my heart." Seconds later we were making love on her parents' couch. We did finish up before they got home, but it only added to the excitement knowing that they might walk in on us at any time.

I don't think I was ever happier at any time in my entire life. The few months before my graduation could not have been better. Even though I had to go to school in another state for my graduate work while she finished up her senior year in New York, I was sure the few months until winter break, then spring break, then the summer would just fly by.

We phoned each other all the time. I tried to write her at least one love letter a month so that when we were older, she'd always have some romantic, loving and sensually charged words of mine that she could always take out and read whenever she needed a pick-me-up. I was lucky to have Gina and, quite frankly, I thought she was lucky to have me.

At this point let me emphasize that I said I thought she was lucky to have me. When we were together during the winter break, I was just so happy to be with her again that I was blind to the subtle changes in her. Looking back on it now, I'm able to see that she wasn't as enthusiastic about being with me as she normally was. She was preoccupied with something else. Even our lovemaking wasn't what it should have been, especially after almost four months without.

Spring break was even worse. She said she had an important project for class and that she needed the time to work on it. And if I went to New York, she would end up spending all of her time with me and none of her project would get done. That was the big red flag warning me, but while hindsight may be 20/20, love is often blind. Some time before the end of school, I phoned her to discuss our plans. Do we live with her parents or mine while we look for our own place? If one of us lines up a plum job, maybe we would live together in our own place right away. She finally had to come clean.

"Maybe we shouldn't rush into anything. In fact, some time apart might do us some good."

Time apart? I was confused by her suggestion. "We've already been apart since September. Being together is what might do us some good." She didn't respond for a few moments, and when she did, it was the last thing I wanted to hear.

"I can't see you anymore. I've…sort of fell in love with somebody else." My brain just shut down when I heard that. I had imagined I'd be spending the next fifty years of my life with this woman. I already had a list of possible names for our children.

"I did an internship at a brokerage firm last semester and, well, there was a really nice guy there. Bradley. We were just friends, but we have so much in common. We get along so well. It's like we're mirror images of each other. He's…well he's my soul mate." Those were the words that reactivated my brain because they felt like a knife going through me.

"I thought we were soul mates."

"I did, too. But if we were, I would never be able to feel this way about Brad. I never meant to hurt you. For the longest time Brad and I were just friends, then…."

"You never really loved me, did you?"

"That's not true! I did love you. I still do but…not nearly as much as Brad." That was the knife being twisted around. Maybe if she didn't love me, it would have been easier to let go. I call her a bitch or slut or golddigger and get on with my life. But I knew that wasn't true. She genuinely did love me and that's what made it so hard to let go.

"We can still be friends, though."

"Can we?" I asked. "Breaking up with me has already broken my heart. Seeing you as a friend and knowing that we could never be anything more? That would eat away at my heart until there was nothing left inside of me."

The last time I heard from her was a few days later when she sent me the love letters I had written her along with the locket. I burned the letters and broke the locket in half, but couldn't throw it away. My friends and relatives all gave me the requisite sympathy. Telling me I was too good for her, there are plenty of fish in the sea, et cetera, et cetera. They spared no effort in trying to find me a new girlfriend, and succeeded on many occasions, but what they never understood was…while it's incredibly easy to find a new girlfriend, it's almost impossible to find a new soul mate.

Every Valentine's Day I take out the box that I keep the broken locket in. I look at it and wonder…will I ever find someone else that I can give this locket to, or will my broken, little heart remain hidden away inside this box, unused and unappreciated, until the day I die?