Heart Giver, a Fable

Sally had always been the giving sort of person. She gave her attention to her friends and family, and was warmed and supported in turn. She gave the money she could to charity and knew she was doing good and right. She gave her time and dedication to her work and found success and accolades. She gave her heart to her lovers… and that never seemed to work out as well.

The very first time had been so beautiful. Sally and the boy, Daniel, were high school sweethearts, prom dates, soda-fountain regulars. One late spring night, on the cusp of adulthood, they tumbled into each other on a picnic blanket under a starlit sky. The invitation was a mutual, eager exploration. Sally cried out, once in pain, twice in pleasure. Daniel matched her, fit her. On the precipice, she gave him her heart and, for a fleeting moment, the world was perfect. It was only after the crashing of bodies and souls together, did Daniel sit back, see the gift he’d been given, and quake in fear. He wasn’t ready, he knew, for such a precious gift. Though he adored Sally, he didn’t believe he could give her heart the care it deserved. Reluctantly, sheepishly, he gave it back to her, gently as he could. Over the course of the summer, the bruise nearly healed.

Sally went about her life, learning, living. She and Daniel went on different paths and Sally found new lovers who lasted a short or long time. To almost all of them, at one point or another, she gave her heart. With Kai, she waited until they’d learned each other’s bodies as well as she thought bodies could be known. Kai bowed and thanked her, and kept her heart on his mantle, never touching it as he touched her body, until it had gathered enough dust that Sally had to take it back. Marcus had made no bones about wanting her heart – intimating with a sly wink he would simply steal it if she didn’t give it to him. Sally played the game, handing her heart to him after a long and pleasurable game of cat and mouse. But Marcus, once he had he heart, tossed it on the pile of other hearts he’d pursued equally single-mindedly, and turned away to chase another. Sally had to steal her own heart back from him.

And then there was Steven, who took Sally’s proffered heart and tore it as intentionally as he bruised her body before discarding both in the dirt. And Roy, who obsessed about it so much it fled back to her on its own. She met Andrew, who accepted and treasured her gift, and they lived happily, ecstatically, until fortune stilled the beat of his heart and Sally’s broke from the grief. And more. Through it all, Sally gave, and all the other parts of her life gave back from her giving; just not her now somewhat scarred heart. But its beat was as strong as ever.

Her friends and family counseled her. “Keep your heart. It makes you strong.” Her co-workers thought it was her heart that made her so dedicated, and said the same. The strangers she helped blessed her heart and thanked her for her giving, but Sally knew it wasn’t her heart that let her do all those things. Her heart was for giving and, even though it had not worked out, and not worked out, each person who’d had her heart, however briefly, had, for a moment, a more perfect world. She truly believed that. She had to.

Then one day, Sally met a monster. She’d grown a little more wary over the years, but had never lost hope. The monster pursued her, but not relentlessly. It learned her body, and allowed Sally to learn its own, and together they reached heights of pleasure previously unknown. It bruised her, but then nursed her. It let her bruise, and let itself be nursed. And there came a point when Sally knew what she wanted, but this time asked, “What if I gave you my heart?” “I would keep it always”, the monster replied, and Sally felt, somehow, that she could believe that. Perhaps, she thought, my heart doesn’t sit well with men. So, as full of hope and promise as ever, she gave it.

The monster ate Sally’s heart. At first she couldn’t believe it. But it smiled at her, teeth, dripping red, and reminded her what it had said. “I will keep it always.” And it did.

Sally stayed with the monster, and knew unbounded pleasure, and gave attention to her friends, and helped the needy, and did well at work. But her smile was a little sadder, her eyes a little more hollow than most remembered. It was a full life after all, enough to tire anyone. And she seemed happy enough.

And then, a lifetime after they’d last said goodbye, Daniel returned. He’d lived his own life, undergone his own trials, and he knew he was ready, deserving even, and willing – indeed eager to trade heart for heart. Daniel knew – had learned – that no one can live long without a heart, and no one could truly handle more than one heart at a time. The trade was the thing. He truly believed that. He had to. And so he sought Sally. It didn’t matter when he was told she lived with a monster. He knew he was right, walking up to her, and holding his heart out to her with a smile and a promise she could tell was real.

All Sally could do was look into Daniel’s eyes, while the monster behind her picked its teeth.

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