The Forging

by Jeffrey Hancock

  I smiled at Char. Her kindness is a mercy to me. “There is more. All the while, as he was talking, it was like I could see what he said. Only it was my future. A mirror of my life was before my eyes. Every step in my life was leading me down a path, a dark and lonely path. It was a path to heartache and despair. At the end of the path, I was alone. When my sad life finally ended, I was unremembered and unmourned. I was a shallow man laid to rest in a shallow grave. Oh God, the pain is like a jagged knife being plunged in me.” Somewhere during my tale, I began crying. The tears burned my cheeks as they ran down my face. The acid of my torment was scaring my face deeply. At this point I found my head at Char’s breast being rocked back and forth. Char is making comforting sounds which had no meaning unto themselves. All I know is a small amount of my pain had eased. Somewhere along the way, I stopped crying.

  “Nathan, I had no idea what you were going through, but it’s over. It is in the past.”

  “My cursed memory won’t let me forget. It plays over and over in crystal clarity.” As the events of that night started playing over again in my mind, my tears were renewed.

  “Nathan, look at me.” My eyes met hers. I feel a real connection with this woman, or perhaps I am reaching for a rope which isn’t there. “Nathan, I am here. You are not alone. I am here with you. We will get through this together. You are a caring and decent man, better than most, and any woman worthy of the title would welcome you in her life. All you have ever shown me is a kind and gentle soul. I do not see you dying alone. I see a future for you filled with a wife and children who love you.”

  “Oh, Char, thank you for your mercy. I am sorry you had to see me this way. I thank you. Even if it is only for a moment, the illusion warms me in a way I don’t believe I have ever felt.”

  “It’s not an illusion. It is real. Come, the shower will help you feel better.” She took my hand and guided me into my bathroom. She turned on the shower and made the water near scalding hot. You take a shower. I will leave you to it. Scrub mister! Every nook and cranny. Wash your hair too. I don’t want to smell anything foul on you.” She left the bathroom so I could begin. I undressed and stepped into the steam bath of a shower. After about ten minutes, I was about done when I heard Charlene’s voice. “How are you doing?”

  “Finishing up.” I saw the shower door slide open. “I can dry myself. Thank you.” Charlene slowly stepped into the shower without her clothes. She took a pose which accentuated her generous figure. If any man questions whether there is a God, all they need do is behold the beauty of the female form in all its glorious variations to know there is a creator. The vision of her brought a line from The Rolling Stone’s song, “Start Me Up,” to my mind. “Char, you are a teenage boy’s wet dream.” She blushed and averted her eyes from mine. She turned her head and looked into my eyes. “I can’t believe I am saying this. I don’t want this if it is going to be a one-time event as wondrous as it would be. One night with you would be like giving a man dying of thirst a single drop of water and denying him the full glass. I have done many things I am not proud to admit. I don’t want you, us, to be one of them.”

  “What are you afraid of, Nathan? I don’t bite.” She paused then with a naughty grin said, “Unless you want me to.” The naughty part of the smile faded, and she looked even deeper into my eyes. “I want a full glass too, Nathan. I am not offering this out of pity. Nothing is compelling me. At least nothing more than the desire I have to be with you. Since the age of sixteen, I have only known boys. You are the first true man who has come into my life. I feel safe with you. You are hurting. Let me make you feel safe.” The naughty grin found her face again as she said, “Besides you still owe me a goodnight kiss.” She moved closer to me. She reached up to my face and held it with both her hands. I tilted my face down to hers, and we kissed. At first, it is only our lips then we melted into each other. We finished our first kiss. She pulled back, and we looked into each other’s eyes.

  “Char, I have dreamed of that since the day you accidentally touched my hand. I fell in love with you at that moment. My feelings only grew as we began to know each other. It may not be smart to say this yet, but I love you.”

  She paused a second then said, “You are quite thick, aren’t you? You are not the only one whose life changed.” She smiled and said, “You had me at coffee, but you’re not done having me yet. Not by a long shot.”

  I looked down at myself and said, “I haven’t been taking care of myself since that night. So, you will forgive me if I’m a no-go for launch, so to speak.”

  “Failure is not an option.” Oh, I like this girl. She kissed me again. It is the most intense kiss I have ever had, and I can remember them all. A Foreigner song started playing in my mind “I Want to Know What Love is; I Want You to Show Me…” Charlene must be able to see into the future because true to her prediction I didn’t fail. In fact, I didn’t fail twice.

  I am back in the here and now. I bent down and kissed my wife. “Goodbye, my love. You will be missed.” I leaned down and whispered into her ear because I don’t want anyone to hear what I am saying. It is for her and her alone.

  John is next, he took his daughter’s hand and patted it a few times. “Goodbye, my little darling. It seems like only yesterday I said hello to you when you came into this world. Do not worry for us. We are a strong family, Nate, Moiraine, and I. We will look to each other.” He kissed her forehead, turned, and walked out of the room to be alone with his grief.

  I turned to Moiraine and told her, “Honey, you need to say goodbye to your mother.”

  “Daddy, I don’t want to say goodbye to mommy,” she turned around and went running out of the room. I heard her bedroom door slam shut, and the sounds of crying came to my ears.

  I followed after my daughter. I knocked on her door. “Come in.” She is holding the new Teddy Bear in a death grip and rocking back and forth on her bed.

  “Moiraine, your mommy is not coming back, Honey. We have to say goodbye and let her go on without us.” I was crying too. The tears are running down my face. They are little rivulets of sorrow. I hugged my daughter and rocked with her.

  “But Daddy, the nice old man told me if I make a thousand cranes, I will get a wish. I want mommy to have my wish so she can wake up. Daddy, how many is a thousand? I already have a lot of cranes.” She stood and ran to her closet. She opened the door and what must have been about a hundred cranes are piled up in there. “I ran out of paper. Can you get me some more paper if that is not a thousand?”

  How can I tell her no? In her own way, she is trying to help. “Of course, I can get you more paper. We can go to the store right now. Clean yourself up, and we’ll go.” I left her room and went back to my wife. “Mary, my daughter is not quite ready to say goodbye to her mother yet. We will try again tomorrow.”

  “Mr. Embers, Nathan, I’m not sure she is going to last so long. She is close to the end.” Moiraine came in the room with an armload of cranes. She put them on the bed next to her mom.

  “Is that okay, Mary?” Mo asked as she turned and looked at the grandmotherly figure.

  “Yes, Dearie, of course, it is” Mary reached into a pocket on her scrubs, pulled out a tissue, and dabbed her eyes. As Moiraine and I left for the store, Mary touched my arm and whispered to me, “Remember, it will be soon. Her breathing is slowing and erratic.” I nodded my understanding. If Char leaves us before Mo has a chance to say goodbye, so be it. I will deal with the fallout. Without further delay, Mo and I headed to the store. It was a quiet drive.

  When we returned from shopping, Moiraine grabbed the bundle of paper and started her task at the dinner table. I was amazed at how she worked. Her hands moved with both speed and grace. I planned to let her complete the batch of paper then tell her it is a thousand. It is a small lie, but this task is so important to her. I had to let her do it. I am probably wrong in my decision to let her try to save her mother this way, but is this any different than prayer? Both provide comfort. Moiraine will learn
sometimes the answer to our best wishes or our most sincere prayers is “No.” A harsh truth to say the least, but the truth is the truth.

  She fell asleep at the table, making cranes. I carried her to bed. As I tucked her in, I said, “Have sweet dreams of your mother. Sweet dreams to both of us.”

  I entered my wife’s bedroom to say goodnight to her. I turned to Mary, “Tell me she’s not in any pain. The truth mind you. But I need to know she is not in pain.”

  Mary looked up from her book and said, “Oh heavens no, Dearie. She is resting peacefully. If she starts to be in pain, I have something I could give her to ease it.”

  I looked down at my wife, “Charlene, I know this is a lot to ask, but if you could stay with us a little while longer, your daughter needs to say goodbye to you in her own way. She needs to say the goodbye you never said to your mother.” I leaned down and lightly kissed my wife on the mouth. I went to sleep in the living room with Blossom on my lap as she had been since the terrible day.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When my alarm went off, I woke and put Blossom down off my lap. Forcing myself to move, I stood from the recliner. Today is not going to be an easy fun-filled day. When Moiraine returns home from school this afternoon, she will have to say goodbye to her mother. Even if she refuses, I plan on telling Charlene it is time for her to move on. I am not looking forward to dealing with the atomic level of emotional fallout Moiraine will suffer if she decides not to say goodbye to her mother.

  I made sure Moiraine is ready for the day. After she left for school, I spent most of the day with Charlene. We talked. Well, I talked, and she listened. Gently, I held her hand and stroked her cheek. It is difficult to watch her struggling so hard to stay here with us. When she would take a breath, I could hear a death rattle in the sound of it. Twice I thought she had passed because the time between her breaths was so long. I turned to Mary and asked, “Waiting for the inevitable is killing me. How can you do this job? The emotional toll…”

  “Mr. Embers,” she paused and smiled “Nathan, you start to grow a bit of armor around your heart, but the truth is it’s difficult at best and heart-wrenching at worse. It does have its rewards, though. I know it sounds like a canned answer. But I have been with some people at the end when their own families would not. To be of service and comfort in a person’s final hours is a sorrowful joy. I remember this one patient. He had been in a coma for a few months. I was with him most of the time. Not once had any family member come to visit him. I try not to judge people too harshly. I still have trouble with that family. The day he died he also woke up. It sometimes happens with coma patients.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Oh yes, they wake-up, some without symptoms of their ailment, to say good-bye. The human spirit can do wonders. The sad thing is it deceives some families into believing their loved one is back.” She looked puzzled for a moment, “Where was I? Oh yes, the dear man thanked me for being there at his side. He said he only woke up to thank me.” The expression on her face showed both sorrow and happiness as she told her tale. “We visited for a few hours then he said he was tired and went to sleep. Twenty minutes later, he passed.” She dabbed at her eyes with some tissue. “Yes, it has its rewards.”

  “I don’t think my heart could take having Charlene come back to us only say goodbye. It would break me.”

  “You don’t strike me as someone who would break. You appear to be a strong man, stronger than perhaps you know,” she went back to reading some romance novel, mind candy, or a bodice ripper, in other words, porn for women.

  It is about the time Moiraine gets home from school. As I opened the front door to meet her bus, I saw John standing at the curb waiting. He knows we are going to attempt another try at saying goodbye to Charlene. Maybe he can give Mo the strength I could not. In short order, the bus pulled up, and Moiraine disembarked. John grasped her hand, and they walked up to the house together.

  “How was school Mo?” I asked, hoping to play our little game.

  “It was okay, I guess. I’m hungry. Can I have a snack?” Without waiting for an answer, she went to her room. She came back out with a stack of paper, sat down at the table, and started making cranes. John went to check on his daughter as I fixed her a little something for Mo to eat. I placed a plate with a cut-up apple sprinkled with cinnamon down next to her along with a glass of milk too. “Thank you, Daddy,” it should hold her until dinner.

  Sitting next to her, I started making cranes too. We worked silently until the paper ran out. “You did it, Mo. This makes one thousand. Why don’t you put them on your mommy’s bed with the other ones? She scooped up the cranes and high-tailed it to the bedroom. After I cleaned up the snack plate and glass, I followed her into the bedroom. Moiraine is talking to her mother. John and Mary are whispering back and forth to each other. Not wanting to eavesdrop, I focused on Moiraine and Charlene. After a few moments, I went to Mo, “Honey, we need to tell your mom it is okay for her to go.”

  “But Daddy, the cranes haven’t worked yet.”

  “Moiraine, we need to say goodbye.”

  “I won’t do it!” She crossed her arms and stood exactly like her mother does when she takes a stand no one can budge her from.

  Mo’s teenage years are not going to be stress-free.

  John came over and whispered something into Mo’s ear, and they walked away from the bed and faced Charlene. John’s hands were resting on her shoulders.

  In a loud and clear voice, I said, “Charlene, my wife, it is time for you…” the doorbell rang then a loud, persistent knocking began immediately. “What now?” I tried to ignore the knocking and started again, “Charlene, my wife, it…” the pounding grew louder and refused to be ignored. I stomped to the front door ready to give the assailants what for. Throwing open the door, I found half a dozen children and Ms. Canon.

  “Mr. Embers, thank goodness you’re home. We were about to give up and leave all this on your doorstep,” she motioned to the dozen or so large trash bags in everyone’s hands.

  I took a breath and calmed myself, “What is all this?”

  “We have a little surprise for your wife.”

  “Ms. Canon, we were …” I was interrupted by Trevor, a young man from Moiraine’s class, yelling.

  “Moiraine! We are here with them.” By the noise, I could tell my daughter is running for the door.

  “Oh, thank you thank you. Bring them this way.” A stream of children of all ages paraded past me without so much as a how do you do. Ms. Canon is last in line and stopped short of coming in. She looked at me for a moment, and I motioned her to come in too.

  Shaking my head, I said, “Why not?” We all headed to my wife’s bedside. It is a little crowded in the bedroom. Looking to Ms. Canon, “I don’t understand.”

  “It is quite simple, Mr. Embers. Your daughter organized a literal rebellion at school. She organized all the kids, and I mean every last one to start making cranes. She showed them how and said it would help her mother. They were making them at recess, at lunch, at any time they could steal away; they were even making them during their lessons. I was concerned at first, but the district’s psychologist thought it could help the young ones to deal with this tragedy and give them closure. So, the whole school took a day away from learning and experienced a day of action and healing. I think it helped.”

  “Or it could crush them with false hope.”

  “Daddy, Grandpa, they brought them! They brought them. Look,” Moiraine opened up one of the trash bags and started pouring out its contents all over her mother. There are cranes, hundreds of cranes, and when the bag was empty, she grabbed another and started to pour it out too. All the kids joined the act. After each child finished pouring out their bag-o-cranes, they told Charlene they loved her. “Mary, you pour out some cranes too. Grandpa, please come on and give mom some.” Moiraine said with a little desperation in her voice but hope too. Both Mary and John obliged Mo. Even Ms. Canon put some cranes onto Char. “Come
on, Daddy, put some cranes on mommy.” She stood by Char’s side and eagerly watched as I placed the last of the cranes on her mom. Moiraine’s heart sank as her mother didn’t stir. Slowly the realization her mother is not going to wake up became hard and cold in Moiraine’s mind. After another moment, Mo went running out of the room crying and yelling “Mommy, Mommy, I want my Mommy…” over and over again. Everyone watched Mo as she left. Some of the kids are tearing up too. John took off after her.

  “Nathan, could you please see what is bothering Moiraine? I can’t seem to get out of bed. Bring her here to me.” Charlene said in a horse and raw voice. I spun so fast I thought the centrifugal force would rip my clothes off. The kids let out with a huge cheer.

  Kneeling at Char’s side, I lightly brushed the hair from her face. Whispering softly to my wife, “Moiraine will be fine now that you have woken up.” Trying not to bring the thought to mind, but I feared it is only to say goodbye.

  “What happened? Why does my chest hurt? Where am I?” Char asked with increasing panic. Immediately Mary came over and started checking my wife. “Who are you? Ms. Canon, children, why are you here? Nathan, please answer me.”

  “You were shot by Mark Galos.” She immediately placed her hand to her chest. A look of horror came to her face. “We got you to the hospital. Char, we brought you home because they said you were dying,” I grabbed my wife’s hand. “Do you remember any of it?” She flinched with her mental search.

  “I remember hearing the shot. I remember you yelling at me. You… put… your… finger in the wound?”

  “I tried to plug the hole in your heart.”

  “Oh, my God Nathan, how did you have the courage to do it? I would have been an emotional mess.”

  “You gave me the strength. Besides if you died, I would have to do the laundry. And no hurry, but it’s beginning to pile up.” Char gave me the look she always gives me when she does not approve of a joke, but behind her mask of disapproval, I saw her smile.