The Unforgettable Gift

The Unforgettable Gift
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Ryan stared at Rachel. He loved her just as much as any boy could
love a cow. She was the most beautiful and friendly cow he’d ever met, which
might not have said much, since he only knew several.

                “Hey, girl,” Ryan stroked her head so gently you’d
think he was afraid of breaking her. The cow just stared back at him. Ryan
could never really know this, but he could almost swear that Rachel did
actually understand him. There was just something about the gleam in her eyes.
Ryan knew animals were more intelligent than people gave them credit for.
Sometimes, and in many different ways, he knew they were a lot smarter. He
treated Rachel like a dear old friend. “You know what I have to do, don’t you?”
he whispered wistfully.

                Ryan lived a simple life; he lived on a farm right
outside town with his father. They owned a meat shop in the city, selling meat
from the chicken, cattle and pigs they grew on the farm. They didn’t believe in
the way commercial meat was grown and packed; the modern husbandry practices
that involved animals being kept in small stalls where they could barely move.
They believed that free-range meat was better for both the animals and the
people. The meat ends up tougher, but more flavourful. They didn’t make or have
a lot of money, but it was enough to keep them alive and well.

This simple life suited Ryan; he loved it. He
loved the raw and innocent ways of animals and all the naturalness of the
outskirts. The air was fresh, the surroundings were quite, and he had much time
to read. Anything; newspapers, magazine, and sometimes books. He didn’t
understand the values and priorities of city folk. He hated the big city and
all the noise and pollution. He hated how city folk felt so much better than
everyone else, and how rude they were to each other. They always seemed to be
in a hurry, never relaxing. He couldn’t imagine living like that.

The only thing that might convince Ryan that
the city wasn’t as bad as he thought would be his urban girlfriend, Amy. She
was the sweetest, kindest and most beautiful girl he ever knew. She was also
quite wealthy, and her parents never approved of them. He always felt insecure,
because he knew he couldn’t provide what other guys could. This made her even
more of an angel; the fact that she saw past the dirty, poor farm boy and saw
someone better.

He’d met her when she came into their meat
shop. She’d been looking for ribs to barbeque on her father’s birthday. Ryan
found her to be quite endearing, kind and innocent. Amy found him charming and
gentle for someone who seemed rugged as well. He explained everything he knew
about ribs, and then spent his lunch break talking about life on the farm. She
admitted that she’d never been to one. Ryan said that if she agreed to go out
with him, their first date would be to the farm. Amy happily accepted.

Next month was going to be Amy’s birthday,
and Ryan wanted to give her something really special. Being from “high-class
society”, he figured that she liked jewellery a lot, so he wanted to get her a
nice necklace. But selling free-range meat could never earn enough for one that
would satisfy Ryan’s need to satisfy his girlfriend. So he decided to make one.

Ryan tried using shells; rope, rocks,
flowers and clay, but none could match the beauty of his girlfriend. Plus, he
didn’t trust his own sense of aesthetic. He had a simple life and preferred
simple things. What seemed unnecessary and ostentatious to him seemed to be
what people from the city considered beautiful. He knew that Amy wasn’t too
much like other city folk, and it was one of the things he loved about her, but
he couldn’t overlook the fact that her likes were also influenced by that.

So, as he was tried to come up with ideas,
he thought of something so brilliant that he was determined to do it, no matter
what the cost. He loved Amy, and he would kill for her, which, sadly enough,
was what he was planning to do in that very barn, to his favourite cow.

For a long time, Ryan’s father told him that
he needed to man up and learn how to slaughter and gut the animals. So when he
came to his father about getting some cattle shanks, the deal was that he had
to get it himself; he had to kill Rachel.

“I don’t think I’m ready yet, Dad,” Ryan
pleaded, “I mean, don’t you have extra shanks lying around?”

“No, I don’t,” Papa Ray replied as his
cleaver landed into the huge chunk of meat lying on the counter, “And even if I
did, I wouldn’t give them to you. It’s about time you learned how to slaughter
a cow and turn it into a steak. I’m not going to be around forever, you know?
This business is the only thing that’s making money for our family. One day
you’ll have to take over, and you can’t sell live meat to city folk. They
wouldn’t know how to kill an animal and put it on a plate if their lives
depended on it.”

“Yeah, dad, but I really love the animals we
raise,” Ryan said.

Ray let his cleaver sit on the large chunk
of meat and looked up at his son, “Son, I know you do. I love them, too. But
they were raised for a purpose. Everything will have its time. So theirs is a
little soon. You have to accept that, whether you kill Rachel or not she will
die eventually. Now, would you rather she die at your hands, where her meat can
feed other people and the money earned from that meat helps us survive? Or that
she dies of natural causes, and her meat can’t be used for anything anymore? We
raise them well, and we raise them comfortable. We don’t spend hundreds of
dollars feeding them just so they can live off our land. They’re not our pets.
They’re our livelihood. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

“Yes, sir,” Ryan looked down. He knew his
father was right, and he knew his father was growing older. Ryan was growing
older, too, and soon his father would become unable, and he would be expected
to be able. But he still didn’t really like the idea of killing very much, and
worried that, should he begin to, that he would not meet his father’s
expectations.

“Don’t worry about it, son,” Ray comforted,
“She’s not going to hurt or feel any pain. You knock her out, then you take a knife
right into her heart. She won’t feel a thing. I promise. She’s lived a
comfortable life. You’ve taken really good care of her. Now it’s time for you
to… take care of her.”

So, there Ryan was, standing in a barn,
petting the animal with one hand and holding his father’s stun gun with the
other. His father explained the entire process. Rachel wasn’t going to suffer.
But Ryan still felt guilty; a dark abyss in place of his stomach left him
feeling anxious and empty.

“I’m so sorry, Rachel,” Ryan sighed. He
closed the barn’s door, trying to hide his shame.

*          *        *         *          *

Ryan could vaguely remember a story his grandfather told him when he
was still alive.

                Grandpa Russell had been head over heels over Granma
Alice, and when he was still in the process of courting her, he also
experienced similar dilemmas; not knowing what was the appropriate gift for her
birthday. So Grandpa Russell came up with a way to use what he had at his
disposal to come up with something beautiful; something worthy of Granma Alice.

                Grandpa Russell discovered a way to create synthetic
ivory; something that looked and felt like ivory, but wasn’t it, and wasn’t far
from it.

                But no matter how hard Ryan tried to remember the
process his grandfather had explained to him several times over the course of
his childhood, the details kept slipping right from his fingers. All he could
remember was something about boiling and grinding – that the process involved a
lot of that.

                So Ryan experimented.

               Finding his way to each step took a lot of effort,
but with each Ryan just thought of his fondest memories with Amy, and it
reminded him that the hard work was worth it.

                As he boiled and then bleached the bones, he
remembered the first time he ever visited Amy’s home; how clean and almost
sparkling it was. He remembered feeling out of place, as he lived a life of
getting down in the dirt to do the dirty work, while Amy lived this very clean
lifestyle. He wondered if he’d cleaned himself up enough –bathing, shaving,
wearing deodorant and cologne – for him to even just stand there. Amy had
kissed him, and told him that he was always welcome.

                As the sound of the bones being ground overwhelmed
his ears to the point that nothing else could be heard, he remembered the time
he and Amy went out to a Rock concert because she’d been given free tickets.
He’d found the music very loud and noisy, and the words difficult to understand.
He remembered how he would try to talk to Amy, and he couldn’t even hear
himself yell at her. Neither he nor Amy properly enjoyed the concert, and both
agreed never to do it again.

                As he slaved over a hot brew of inedible cattle
portions, waiting for a gelatine-like substance to form, he remembered the time
when he was sick and Amy had scalded herself trying to cook him chicken soup.
He kissed her where it hurt, and then applied ice. She smiled at him as he
sipped the broth. He smiled back. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that it
was bland.

As he washed the gelatine to remove the fatty portions, he recalled
how insecure Amy had gotten when her “friends” called her fat and how he
reassured her that she was perfect in his eyes. To celebrate, they ate lots of
pizza and ice cream, and he laughed as she indulged. He’d playfully compared
her appetite to that of a pig, and she’d playfully slapped his arm.

                Every time he wiped sweat off his brow, he would
remember the time when Amy visited him in the middle of a busy workday. She
tried to help him with the heavy lifting, but her delicate hands couldn’t take
it. He still appreciated the effort, and, with different areas of his shirt
drenched in sweat, tried to show his appreciation with a big bear hug. They
laughed as he chased her around. After a while, she stopped running and they
embraced, despite her squeamishness.

                Each heart-warming memory continued to inspire Ryan
like this as he heated up the gelatinous substance, used the liquid as a glue
to bind the powdered bones, poured the mixture into a mould and let it dry. He sanded
and polished his gift with utmost care, and thanked heaven that his
girlfriend’s name was only three letters long.

*          *          *          *          *

Ryan was wearing his fanciest plaid shirt and most decent pair of
dark jeans with a pair of brown, hand-polished, leather shoes. His dark hair
was combed more than it ever had been in his entire life. Today was special. It
was the day that one of the most important people in his life was brought into
the world.

                Ryan waited on a park bench. He decided that this
was the best part of the city, as it was the most natural and most quiet. In
his hands, he held a tiny, brown paper wrapped gift with rope used in place of
a ribbon. He frowned at the ugly little gift, but the thought of what was
inside turned the corners of his mouth back up in a hopeful smile.