Heavier Than It Looks

This Works Depicts Death and Grief.

He was always uncomfortable sitting in hospitals. The chairs were always the kind of thinly padded uncomfortable seats you sit in when they size your feet in a shoe store. Not meant to be sat on for countless hours as the faces of the nurses and doctors revolve. Listening to the constant beeps and tubes.

I don’t see them sitting on these chairs, he thought as he watched a nurse swiveling back and forth on an office chair behind the counter.

He got up to close the door. Before he could make it all the way there, a tall, slender dark skinned woman appeared in the doorway. She smiled at him.

“Hello Amani— that time again?” He said, returning the smile briefly.

“It is that time Alagena,” she held up the chart. The one they marked every few hours. The one whose only ever change was decline.

Still— she’d lasted longer than anyone had thought. She’s a fighter, he thought as he looked at the woman who gave birth to two boys. Who broke her leg hiking and walked two miles into town— to then wait three hours for an ambulance.

“You can call me Fred, Amani— you’re practically family,” he said.

She nodded solemnly, closed the door and walked over to Caroline. She looked at the beeping monitor and calmly started her routine. She had a cool demeanor. It was her job to anchor everyone in the room to the task at hand. There was comfort in that.

“She seems very calm — Fred, Her heart rate is declining steadily, “ she turned to face him. “The doctor will be in soon. He’ll be able to tell you more”

“She’s made it this far, don’t you think there's a chance?” He said, almost pleading.

“It’s not for me to say, sir. These things are up to a higher power than me,” she came closer and placed her hand on his cheek.” But she is peaceful and she is loved,” she said, patting him on the shoulder and walking to the door.

“The doctor will be here in a bit.” She opened the door enough to step through and closed it again.

Fred looked at his wife laying there. She looked like she was sleeping. Like he could tickle her and wake her up.

You asshole! I was dreaming— you’re making breakfast.

Never again, the thought washed over him like cold fire. He couldn’t breathe, his chest felt like a thousand hands were pressing back when he tried to exhale. His lips were dry and cracked as his mouth gulped for air.

He focused on the door and urged himself forward. He needed air. He felt for the knob through closed eyes and turned it, willing himself through the open doorway. He pulled it closed behind him and slumped against it. Fighting back the tears he didn’t want to cry in the hallway. The room felt deafeningly loud like he was inside of a church tower. He focused his breathing and prepared to walk. He opened his eyes and—

— bells.

Everywhere was bells. The entire room was cast in the soft amber glow of incandescent light. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls behind a grand sales counter. Perched on top was a gilded cash register, the kind with a big arm on the side that looks like a slot machine. Advertisements in various languages covered the exposed walls, all very old. They depicted women in Victorian clothing holding different bells and smiling approvingly at them.

It was the kind of shop you wander into without the intention of buying anything. The place holds your attention only for pure nostalgia— touring the vestiges of a bygone era. Just so you could say you’d been there.

“Welcome, welcome!” A voice came from the back of the room. Through a small curtained gap in the wall a man came forward. Bearded white and bald, the man looked to be well into his eighties. He hunched as he walked, leaning precariously forward but with a grace that showed he was used to it.

“Welcome to my shop, I am the proprietor— can I ask what you’re looking for today?”

Fred blinked. He blinked again. Trying to reset the world and wipe this vision from his eyes. He gripped the doorknob behind him and twisted. It didn't budge.

“Old door— it sticks sometimes. Can I show you something from our Bevin Brothers collection? Really quite the piece.” He picked up a small pewter looking bell and gave it a little shake. “Amazing right? Just sound pushing through air but so—“ he rang it again. “Soothing.”

Fred found nothing soothing at the moment. His heart was thumping in anxious confusion. He still twisted at the door absentmindedly while he fuddled out some words. “ I— uh— I’m sorry, I must have— I don’t know what I did, I was just trying to get some air. I really have to be going.”

“Plenty of air in here, son. Why don’t you just take a minute and peruse?” He gestured like a game show model. Fred didn’t know what to do at this point lest he begin breaking the door down. He leaned against it to test the weight.

Something about the old man made him not want to do that. Beyond the absurdity of the situation there was an otherworldly calmness to the proprietor. A strange pull came over Fred and he approached the counter. Almost like time had slowed.

“I really shouldn’t be here— my wife,” he pointed to the door behind him.

“Ah— sometimes we end up places we don’t expect to be. Do you think I ever expected to be here?” The old man spun around, much more agile than he seemed a moment before. “That’s life! Sometimes it takes you down the wrong alley and you need to figure your way out again– and sometimes— “ he picked up a tuber bell. “ It leads you right where you need to be.”

The proprietor rang the bell. His eyes closed and he smiled warmly. He rang the bell again, it sounded different in pitch this time. An embarrassed look came over him. He sheepishly placed the bell on the counter and pushed it over to Fred.

“Cloche de mèmoire— give it a jingle.”

The bell felt familiar. Almost like he had seen it sitting on a shelf everywhere he went. It was exactly the picture that came to his mind when he thought of a bell. He picked it up and shook it lightly.

In the next moment he was feeling wind on his face. His hands gripping handlebars. Ahead of him was a young boy zooming off as he tried to keep up. He got that nice new bike for Christmas— he was fast as hell. . He could feel the heat from the sun radiating off of his skin as he caught up to the smiling face of his little brother.

Without warning he was back in the bell shop. The old man nodded softly and gestured to him to ring it again. He did.

This time he was in a classroom. High school. Before him was Jenny Clayborne— the girl he pined for in secret agony. She was sitting at a table reading from a textbook as he was on a trajectory for her. He was going to ask her out. Just a few feet before he could make it to comfortable conversation distance, a bully name Justin Mersk came up from behind him. Pulling his pants down for the entire class to see. Laughter erupted and Fred felt his sixteen year old heart break all over again.

“Not always good ones— but they make the good ones worth it— have one more go at it,” the old man said after he reappeared in front of him.

He rang the bell again. This time he was in a back yard. His parents' house. Rows of seats lined up in front of a small stage area. Caroline stood before him. She was younger, smiling in a billowing white wedding dress. When his eyes focused on her he could see nothing else. The room disappeared in the glow of her beauty. He felt that kind of palpable love that boils up inside. The kind you need to yell to get out. The tension that builds when a person gives you wings but you have to stay on the ground.

Then he was back in the room. He placed the bell back on the counter and let out a deep sigh.

“What was that?”

“Just a bell. Very popular model. New ones come in all the time.” The proprietor smiled. It reminded him of his grandfather's smile.

The old man picked up another. This one small and silver.

“Campana de alegrìa — this one you’ll like,” he rang it and immediately began to dance. Other dancers flickered into being and joined together in the cramped space. A banner reading “Happy New Year 1914” materialized on the wall. Celebratory music exploded in his ears. The old man had a grin from ear to ear. He was in complete bliss. He placed the bell on the counter and the scene dissolved around them. He pulled a little gold medallion out of his pocket and kissed it.

Fred was mesmerized. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating. What else could this be but that? His mind kept shifting between the thought of Caroline on their wedding day and Caroline now– he wanted to feel that again. he picked up the bell and rang it.

A kitchen table appeared in front of him. His two boys were bouncing in their seats like if they sat still they’d never be able to move again. Caroline walked to them and placed her arms around the two. Draping them and squeezing tight.

I think we’re missing something, don’t you, guys?

Daddy! Daddy!

Instinctively he moved toward them with his arms outstretched. He could feel the touch of them as he pressed against them. He let the bell slip out of his fingers. The scene disappeared while he was still bent over in an embrace.

“Wha—“ he looked at his hands. Empty.

“Much is fleeting, Mr Alagena—“

“How did you?”

“The feelings live on forever. You just bring them out– dust them off and they’re good as new,” he mimed dusting off one hand with the other, “it’s just a bell.”

The next bell he removed with great care. Grasping it with both hands he shook it once. Fred only heard the dull sound of metal on metal.

“And you too, mayn neshome,” he said as he placed it directly in Fred’s hands. “Campana dell’amore— it only rings for two hearts.”

The little bell felt warm. Like holding someone’s hand. He recreated the old man’s movements.

I love you Fred. More than you could ever know.

Fred stumbled and dropped to his knees. Letting the bell fall to the counter, making no sound as it rolled away.

“Oh— my– Caroline! I love you so much—“ tears ran down his cheeks onto the floor. He felt the proprietor, having appeared behind him, place his hands on his shoulders.

“Life gives us so much, we repay it by remembering its kindness,” the man comforted him.

A great toll rang overhead. Vibrating the room and startling the old man.

“Toki no kane,” he said in an impressive Japanese accent. The proprietor gently urged him to his feet.

“Sometimes we have more important places to be— that’s why we take the emotions with us. We can come back to them later,” his Brooklyn accent returned. He handed Fred a black bell with a pink ribbon tied around the handle. “Even when we don’t want to.”

Fred looked at the black bell. The bright ribbon topped it mockingly in contrast. His hands dipped when he took it. It was heavy. Iron. Not like it was meant to be rung, it was made to hold things down.

“This one doesn’t always make a sound,” the proprietor gave him a solemn look. “But be careful, the longer you hold onto it. It may get lighter— it may get heavier.”

Fred took a deep breath. He knew what it was without being told. He had felt this the moment he found out Caroline wouldn’t be coming home.

“I think I understand,” Fred looked at the kindly gentleman. “I need to go now”

Fred rang the bell as best as he could. Like trying to lift the liberty bell— it creaked and the clapper hit the side with a dull hum. The hum grew louder and more intense, he could feel it running through every inch of his body. Fear and rage. Anger and sadness. Laughter and attraction. It pushed him in and pulled him out like an accordion. Tugging back and forth beckoning him to break.

His eyes clenched as he felt it all come to him at once.

“Go where?”

He looked up. The bell shop was gone, the old man no longer in front of him. Amani was looking at him, head cocked and confused. The transition was jarring, like being woken out of a dream that you don’t remember falling asleep for.

“Uh— nowhere. Sorry. I must have been daydreaming,”

“No need to apologize, Fred. Though, I think if you want to say anything to Caroline now may be a good time.”

Fred furrowed his brow in silent agony. His fingers rubbed together nervously as he walked over to the bedside. To the love of his life.

He grasped her hand gently, it was cold, almost weightless. Her breath was staggered and slow, her chest barely moving.

He felt embarrassed to be doing this in front of Amani. He felt a second wave of embarrassment at caring about that. She, being the rock that she was, understood. She turned and retreated from the room. Leaving them alone.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do this without you— twenty years, baby, you’re like a part of me. Like my arm, how do I live without my arm?” He closed his eyes, thinking back to the wedding day. It wasn’t really that pristine. It had rained the night before leaving mud everywhere. The wrong flowers had been delivered. But she was that beautiful. She erased every wrong thing.

The door creaked open behind him. His sons arrived, marching slowly into the room. They crowded around their father.

“Hi dad,” his youngest, Thomas, hugged him hard. Nathan, his eldest, joined them and squeezed tightly.

“Can she hear us?” Nathan asked when they separated.

“I think she can— I know she can,” Fred squeezed Nathan’s shoulder.

“Everyone’s here now baby,” he looked to his children. Grown men now. He looked at his wife, who guided them.

“That’s right ma– we’re with you,” Thomas said softly, taking his mothers hand.

They said their words and then stood in silence as the machines beeped around them. Counting the passing moments in pulses and trills. Caroline’s breath continued to slow until her chest no longer rose. The long dull beep sounded as the machine could no longer register a heartbeat. Soft cries emanated around the room. No words could be said. None would carry the weight of the three men’s emotions.

Fred squeezed his hand, imagining the black bell sitting in it. Holding him down, tolling his heartache. He looked over to his boys and thought of the memories they still had to make. The moments that would represent their joy. He felt pain for the pain they too would endure in the ebb and flow of life’s prizes and punishment. All of these things made paramount by their finiteness.

Much is fleeting.

—

The air felt cold and crisp, it carried a freshness that allowed for a pause. It wasn’t relief but a momentary tourniquet. Enough to keep the pain from spilling out.

“We'll have some decisions to make,” Fred said to his children.

“We’re here to help, Dad, always,” Nathan responded, hugging his father tight. Thomas joined them. Fred thought of them at the kitchen table. Arguing over a cereal box toy. To now, strong and confident but also tender and caring. He couldn’t remove this hurt any more than he could turn back time. But he could be here. He could comfort them and guide them. She would have wanted that.

—they make the good ones worth it.

“ Fred— oh I’m so glad I caught you,” Amani ran up from behind, panting slightly as she did. When she closed the distance between them she held out her hand. “We almost missed this, s Caroline was holding onto it before— it must have fallen under the bed.” She held up a small bell. It made no sound. “I think something happened when it fell, I don’t hear a thing.”

Fred took the wonderful little bell from her hand and smiled brightly. He cupped it close to his chest. “Thank you Amani, for everything. Thank you— “

Fred took the bell from her and shook it. Amani watched intently as the man shook the bell. With nothing but a soft metallic rattle she assumed it was just decoration. But the man swooned as if angels were talking, a tear dripping down his face.

“I love you too Caroline.

Amani looked at him curiously. She knew grief could do strange things to people so she dared not question.

Fred let the words echo through his ears. She was in his bones. Holding him up as he stood. He felt her hand on his back. She was always there.

“I don’t need this, you hold onto it— it’ll ring for you some day,” he closed his eyes and gave the bell one more squeeze before handing it back to her. He put his arms around his sons and began to walk away.

Amani’s face was more confused, “what is it?” She called out, turning it over in her hands.

Fred yelled back, “it’s just a bell.”