Short Story: The Crystal Pineapple
In a downtown store, on a sunlit shelf, I caught sight of the crystal pineapple. It felt as if lightning had struck me. The early afternoon sun shone directly on the shelf, and the crystal pineapple sparkled and bathed in its rays. I knew instantly that I had to have it. Its price was quite exorbitant, but I couldn't leave it behind. I was aware that this purchase might be deemed madness, as it would definitely mean I'd have to tighten my belt for the rest of the month, but I was helpless against the charm of the crystal pineapple.
The salesperson gave me a strange look, seemingly not understanding why someone would pay so much for an inedible pineapple, but I didn't care. I hid my precious, silk-wrapped treasure in a bag and with a broad smile on my face, I left the store. It felt fantastic to own it! The sparkling, beautiful crystal pineapple was mine! My steps felt light, and my soul danced with ecstasy.
As I walked towards the bus stop with the crystal pineapple in my bag, I slowly snapped out of my trance. The handle of the bag dug deep into my palm, a pain that grew with every step. I wondered how I was going to buy a birthday gift for my best friend now that I'd spent my savings. I started to crunch numbers. I could still afford the rent, and I'd somehow manage the utilities. If I ate lunch at the diner near my workplace and had cereal for dinner, I'd make it through the month.
By the time I'd reached this point in my train of thought, a sudden anxiety gripped my stomach. What about my student loan? How would I pay the installment?
The bag in my hand felt as heavy as lead. I sat down on the bench at the bus stop and gently placed the package beside me. I looked inside, unfolded the silk paper, and saw the leaves of the crystal pineapple. I caressed its smooth, cold surface. I truly loved this pineapple. I knew it was madness, and that I shouldn't feel this way for what was essentially a beautifully crafted piece of glass, but I was sure I couldn't part with it. The mere thought of losing it choked me up, holding back tears. Despite my efforts, a few tears did escape, and I didn't want to board the bus like this. Two buses came and went before I managed to compose myself.
I resolved that, come what may, I would keep the crystal pineapple! If necessary, I'd eat only two croissants a day for the next three weeks, but I wouldn't give it up!
With this determination, I boarded the bus home. The bag still felt heavy but not unbearably so. The crystal pineapple rested peacefully within, and I hugged it close when I finally found a seat. I got off at the last stop, with only three of us left on the bus. I let a mother with her visibly impatient child go ahead of me. I carefully descended the bus steps, ensuring not to bump the pineapple against anything.
I only had a few blocks to walk home. When I entered the apartment, I carefully set the pineapple on the cushioned chair in the hallway, not wanting to unwrap it until everything else was in order. Once I had changed, I approached the bag and gently unwrapped its contents. Holding the crystal pineapple in my hand warmed my heart, and I smiled. I took it to the living room and slowly, carefully placed it on the shelf, right next to my father's photo. Looking at his picture, tears began to stream again. I caressed the pineapple, and with teary eyes, I smiled and said,
‘Dad, do you remember how much I grimaced when you first made me taste pineapple?’
– Eszter
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I love this short story because it shows the plight of the working poor (count me a foot soldier there) and how we all want something in our life that provides a little light and joy now and then, as purchased in this world of growing expenses and dwindling incomes. My radical sociologist prof @ uni called this phenomenon the "Pink-Telephone Syndrome." He theorized that we all want a pink phone (from Ma Bell, this was the ''80s) when all that was available were ugly black ones. His theory of late-stage capitalism predicted the iPhone, viral media, and just about any object worship of the past 30 years or so. I have had to decide whether to eat or to buy a shiny bobble, many times over in my life. While I don't have a crystal pineapple (I sure would like one), I do have a painting paid for out of the rent money that reminds me of my now-passed Mum. The moment I saw the painting at a local gallery I knew I had to have it - I made the artist (a pal) take the painting down from the opening's wall and wrap it up on the spot! Now, like you, I have a "crystal pineapple" on the shelf.