Island Hideaway 46 - The elephant is fine in itself

By Terrence Oblong

Wed, 22 Jan 2020

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After the catastrofuck on the beach she disappeared into her bedroom, where doubtless she had piled up the furniture against the door to keep me out. Her wardrobe had certainly been moved, I noticed, the next time I went in there.

I couldn't talk to her, maybe I'd never talk to her again, so I wrote her a letter, several letters in actuality, paper balls piled up in my waste paper basket, but eventually I got there. I wrote what I felt, I explained my behaviour, laid out my love and good intentions in an acceptable prose style and word count.

It was six O'Clock in the morning by the time I finished. I went for a walk, getting some space between me and the letter before I delivered it.

I called in at the corner shop, Funny Little's Man's 24/7, which sold everything you could possibly imagine every minute of the day, to buy an envelope and a Guardian. On impulse I purchased a cuddly toy elephant, the largest the had in the store, about three feet long. I seemed exactly the right present, only an elephant could capture the sheer scale of my emotions. I would give Mo the letter wrapped up in an elephant.

I purchased brown wrapping paper and tape and left it outside her door, it along with the letter.

I had crashed asleep when I heard her knock on my door, but I sprang up like a stoat celebrating national leaping day.

"Cup of tea?" she said, the student equivalent of the pipe of peace, though we also did the pipe of peace on a good night.

"Yeah, go on," I said.

We sat in the kitchen together and said nothing. It was just like old times.

"Thanks for the elephant," she said, eventually.

"Oh, I mumbled, I just wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean to ..."

"Apology accepted."

"So, what did you think of the letter?"

"What letter?"

"The letter I sent with the elephant."

"What?"

"Oh." I retraced the elephant preparation process in my mind. I was wrapping the elephant up and ...

"I forgot to include the letter," I confessed.

"The elephant is fine in itself," she said.

"Yes but I could go and ..." I said.

"The elephant is fine," she repeated. "Let's meet for lunch. I have a lecture, so I have to go now."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Men are crap. Thanks for the elephant." She left for her lecture

I thought of taking the letter with me, then thought better of it, lit it with a flame from the gas cooker, and burnt it in one of last night's saucepans. She's right, I thought, the elephant perfectly captures the sheer scale of my emotions. And it's cute and furry. There was no need for further apology nor explanation.