Early that afternoon the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The wind churned the sea below the cliff, and the overcast sky threatened to break any moment into an applause of rain. Away from it all, Mary is sitting comfortably in her favorite armchair, swaddled in a blanket, and enjoying a mug of honey and lemon-sweetened Earl Grey. The cordless phone is nestled just as snugly in its charging cradle on the end table, illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp, and accompanied by an old framed black and white photo of a handsome young man in uniform, smiling awkwardly into the camera.
The mood is broken by the ringing of the phone. Mary waits five rings before she answers. She always gives them five rings, so they have a chance to hang up if they want to.
“Hello?”
“Hello—is anyone there? I just really need someone right now. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.” The voice is male, young—probably in his mid-20s—and scared.
Another one. No matter what she did, there would always be more. Succumbing to the illness that had them convinced that they were alone in their struggles, that no one had been in their position before, that no one cared about them; that the world would be better off without them in it.
“Well, I’m here. You can talk to me.” She settled back in her chair, making herself comfortable for what might be a long conversation. “Make it quick though,” she says with a little chuckle, “I’m 90 years old, and I’m not exactly getting any younger here.”
“Wait, is this the suicide hotline?”
“‘Fraid not, honey. You’re off by one number. Don’t worry, you’re not the first person to make that mistake.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry for bothering you.”
She chuckles again. “Oh no, it’s no trouble at all. It would surprise you how often it happens.” Her eyes drift to the two unlabeled 3-inch binders on her book shelf. One is white, the other is black. “But I’m here now, so you might as well talk to me. You wouldn’t want to die knowing that you interrupted an old lady’s reading for no reason would you?”
“Uh, no, of course not! I’m so sorry, you’re right, Miss—?”
“Please, just Mary. We don’t need to stand on ceremony when a young man’s life is at stake.”
“Right…”
“Young man, are you still there?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. It’s just—I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. I’m a musician, but I haven’t been able to write or play anything in months. I’m behind on rent and my landlord is threatening to evict me if I don’t pay soon. And I can’t go to my parents about it. All I’ll get is a lecture about perseverance from Dad, about how I need to suck it up, be a man, and all that garbage. Mom will just passive-aggressively remind me of how I’m a disappointment compared to my older brother, with his high-paying job at a law firm and gorgeous family. I can’t do one thing right. Everyone would be better off if I wasn’t around anymore—
“You know; you remind me of my late husband in a lot of ways.” She’d heard enough; letting him beat himself up any further would be pointless.
“I-I do?”
“Yes. We spoke for the first time at a church function in ’46. It was a small town, so I’d seen him around before. All the girls in town were wild for him, a brave, handsome man who’d just come back from the war and was now getting his education,” she looked at the picture on the end table, a small, secret smile spreading across her face. “He was reserved, almost shy. I was shocked at how quiet and vulnerable he sounded when we first spoke. We hit it off and were married the next year. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was going through his own struggles.”
“What kind of struggles?
She hesitated; talking about this was always hard, no matter how many times she did it. “He was having trouble sleeping and re-adjusting to civilian life, and he was the first person in his family to go to college. There was a lot of drama going on in his family, all because of him, he thought. He was going to school, he didn’t want to run the family auto shop, and he didn’t marry a good Italian girl.”
She shook her head in disbelief. Even all these years later, it was still ridiculous. “Of course, I knew practically none of this: both of us were working and going to college, me for nursing, and him for law. Every dime we made went towards tuition, rent, or a down payment for a house. He thought that I was too good for a poor, broken grease monkey like him,” she smiled a little to herself, “I love him, but dear God, he could be so incredibly dense sometimes.”
“How did he turn things around, if you don’t mind me prying?”
Her smile deepened. “I’m glad you asked. I came home late one night and caught him sitting at our kitchen table, a bottle of whiskey in his fist and eyeing his service pistol. We had a long, hard talk. Once he started everything just came tumbling out. I chewed him out for not telling me what he was going through. I snapped and told him I wasn’t a goddamn psychic and I couldn’t help him get through his shit if he didn’t tell me about it. We’re a family, a team, and we support each other. The look on his face, I don’t think he’d ever heard a woman use that kind of language before, much less have it come at him from a little slip of a thing like me!” She laughed, and the young man on the other end joined in.
“But he got better, right?”
She nodded, “Oh, yes. It took him some time to open up, and even then it was still incredibly hard for him,” she glanced over at the binders on her bookcase again, “but we got through it together until his heart attack ten years ago. That’s what counts.”
The young man on the other end was quiet for a moment. “Wow, I don’t really have anyone in my life like that.”
“It wasn’t just the tongue lashing I gave him though; it was his attitude adjustment that did the trick.” She walked over to her bookcase, selecting both the binders and bringing them back to her chair. The white binder was full of brightly colored cards and stationary. The black one was full of newspaper clippings. She flipped through the white binder as she spoke.
“How so?”
“Well, he realized that he couldn’t carry all his burdens by himself, that asking for help didn’t make him weak, and that he was allowed to cry and be vulnerable.”
There was a long, shuddering sigh on the other end. When the young man spoke, it sounded like he was trying to hold back tears. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough Mary.”
Mary sat straight up, slipping into the voice she used with uncooperative patients back in the day. “Now you listen to me, young man! You are strong enough. We tell boys and men that being sad is weak, and that only sissies cry. Real men cry. Real men admit when they’ve done something wrong and ask for help when they need it. You will get through this. Years later my husband came home every night, exhausted, but happy. Because not only had he fought for every success he had, but also because he knew he had back up. And I also knew that he would do the same thing for me.” She closed the binders and started putting them back on the shelf.
“If…”
She waited for him to continue. She looked at the black binder still in her hands, not wanting to jinx anything.
“If I managed to succeed at something, could I tell you?”
Thank God. “Of course! In fact, I’m counting on it. Work hard, I don’t know how much longer I’ve got.”
“Mary, please, with the mind you’ve got?”
“Flattery won’t get you any special favors, honey. Now, what’s your name?”
“It’s Henry, Henry Allen.”
“Well, Henry Allen, I’ll give you my address, I’ll expect a card and an invitation to your first performance.”
“It’s a deal, Mary.” She quickly gave him her address.
“Then I’ll let you go Henry. You enjoy the rest of your day.” She smiled triumphantly at the black binder on her shelf. Not today.
“I will. Thank you for taking the time to listen. You have a nice day too.”
She hung up the phone and placed it back in its cradle to charge. Her tea had gone cold by now, so she took it into the kitchen and placed it in the microwave. With Henry’s card, that would make 100 bright cards to 50 obituaries. Exactly double. No matter what she did, it would never be enough.
She had a good feeling about Henry, though. She looked forward to hearing from him again soon.