I was reading this morning. The room smelled of chocolate and coffee from the grounds steeping in the french press on the side table. My boy has just set it down and was returning again with some morning pastries.
He presented himself by the sofa in position 1 and looked up at me. “Happy Father’s Day,” he said, “you’re so much more than a father to me and I really appreciate that.”
And then his shy smile. Heartbreaking.
“C’mere pup.”
I pulled him over to me by his collar. I kissed him gently with his lock, my lock, in my palm. I reached into my pocket and produced a set of keys on a ring.
“All these keys fit that padlock.” I said, picking out one and pushing it into the keyway. “Some require a bit more effort to get in. They don’t quite fit, but the lock will accept it. They scrape and stick, but it will get in there. Some don’t fit at all, but we can still test it against the slot.”
I turned the key, but the cylinder did not move. I chose another from the ring.
“Inside this lock are pins. Nubs. Buttons. They must line up correctly with the edge of the cylinder to work. It’s not just about whether a key will conform to the slot, but whether it will also align with the spring mechanics within.”
Another turn, but the cylinder remained resistant. I chose another key.
“This lock is you. You wear it to show your ownership, but it is also a metaphor for your own body. There are other keys. They may fit. They may not. But only one key is going to penetrate you and push all of your buttons. Only one key is going to unlock your brain, or your body, or your spirit.”
The key turned. The cylinder turned with it. Inside, a mechanism sprung open. The shank split from the body. I clicked the shackle shut and kissed my boy.
“I’m happy to be that key for you. It is as rewarding to be a key as it is to be a lock. We are both required for the other.”
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