Louis Hannibal Nez
Ronald is on his way to work on a cold autumn morning when a simple phone call changes everything.
There is fog, and there is wind, but beyond that there is nothing. Nothing important ever seems to happen in Bring Spring, a small town of two thousand people northwest of Birmingham, in St. Clair County, Alabama. Ronald is expected at eight o’clock at the house he and his coworkers are painting that week. By seven, however, he must already be there to prepare the work clothes, tools, brushes, rollers, and, of course, the paint itself. That is why the young man is pedaling his old bicycle in something of a hurry, coasting down a gentle slope—one of the few paved roads in Bring Spring.
At the bottom, he will reach a T-intersection that leads straight onto the main street of the picturesque, tedious little town on the outskirts of the city. It is at that very moment that his cell phone begins to ring, insistently. Before he answers, recent images he has tried to erase flash through Ronald’s mind. He has failed; forgetting them is impossible. He considers the way events have unfolded of late, and they trouble him deeply. But this is no time for regrets. He has decided that as soon as he reaches the job site—even before beginning his usual tasks—he will make a call he considers important.
He finally surrenders to the relentless ringing, curses into the air, his breath forming small clouds of vapor, and stops at the first corner. The brakes on his old bicycle are worn and rusty. He manages to halt, dismount, and prop the bike on the metal kickstand bolted near the rear wheel. The cheap cell phone, with its orange-lit screen and barely legible lettering, continues drilling into his ears with an irritatingly shrill melody. First he has to switch off the radio playing through the earbuds hanging from his ears. Once he has done that, he searches his coat pockets for the annoying device as visible banks of fog sweep horizontally across the street ahead.
He pulls the device from a trouser pocket, studies the orange screen, and finally deigns to answer. He does not recognize the number. When he picks up, he says nothing, waiting to hear who is on the other end.
"Ronald?" asks the voice of a middle-aged woman. "Hello. Yes, this is Ronald. Who’s calling?" he replies with a frown.
He now stands in the middle of streets so deserted they might belong to a ghost town. Before he stopped, the only sound had been the squeal of his bicycle’s rusted chain, as starved of lubricant as a desert is of water. Against the absolute stillness of dawn in Bring Spring, the peculiar ringtone of his phone echoes off the façades of the nearest houses. That is how complete the silence is in this town that watched him be born, grow up, and live through so many unforgettable things, both good and bad.
"Good morning, Ronald. This is Claire, Rose’s mother. I’m sorry to bother you," the woman says politely, and he recognizes her. "Yes, ma’am. Claire, how are you? Rose is a friend of ours," Ronald confirms.
He knows Claire well, though only by sight; he has never had occasion to exchange a single word with her. Now that he knows who was calling, he feels relieved.
"Yes, that’s right," the woman says. "How are you? How is Rose?" he asks uncertainly. He fears something may have happened to the girl, because this woman has never called him before. "I have some bad news for you, Ronald, but it isn’t about Rose. Thank heaven, my daughter is perfectly well—physically, at least. She’s terribly distressed right now." Claire clears her throat before continuing. "Why? What happened?" Ronald asks, plainly worried. "It’s Noel Norman, Rose’s friend—the current Grape Harvest Queen. She’s her best friend." Ronald swallows. "What happened to her?" His question comes out faintly, almost a whisper, barely audible. "She had a horrible accident. A tragedy. It’s ghastly. She died early this morning. They’re holding her wake at Bodies Funeral Home right now." Claire’s voice begins to falter.
The news shocks Ronald and renews Claire’s grief. She can no longer hold back the tears.
"R-right now?" Ronald stammers, at a loss for anything else to say.
The moment the question leaves his mouth, he realizes how foolish it was. It is too late to take it back; she has already heard him.
"Yes. The wake is being held right now," Claire confirms, her sadness unmistakable.
Ronald takes a moment to guide his bicycle up onto the sidewalk. He lowers the metal kickstand again and leaves the bike close beside him, then walks a few steps toward the wall of a shop that has not yet opened and sinks to the ground. His back rests against the metal shutter. For another few seconds, he watches the bands of fog crossing the empty streets, driven by the strong morning winds that have lingered over Bring Spring for the past two weeks. A block and a half away, he can make out the only other person in sight: a woman vigorously sweeping the sidewalk, as she has every morning of her life for more than forty years.
It is Mrs. Sturgis, a widow forever determined to clear the town’s grime from her doorstep, whether it rains, thunders, or lightning splits the sky. Ronald knows her, as everyone in Bring Spring does. He knows perfectly well that Mrs. Sturgis will finish her work shortly, herd her cats back inside with the broom, and then set about seasoning a delicious stew to enjoy with her pets while admiring sepia photographs of her late husband. No one in Bring Spring is unaware of Mrs. Sturgis’s routine.
"But how, Claire? What happened to Noel? What kind of accident was it?" Ronald asks, his anguish plain. "I know this must be hard for you, Ronald. Rose specifically asked me to let you know. I know how close all of you are, what a lovely, close-knit, wholesome group you’ve formed. I’ve known Noel since she was very little, and I know her parents and her sister Noah as well. When Rose was small, she and Noel used to play right here at our house, in our garden. It’s such a terrible tragedy… So unfair…" Rose’s mother laments, unable even to disguise her grief. "What kind of accident did she have?" Ronald asks again, incredulous. "Apparently, Noel tried to clean her father’s gun, or handle it somehow." The woman’s fragile voice can scarcely contain her tears now. "Mr. Norman’s gun?"
Ronald is struck by the thought that a man as responsible as Mr. Norman, Noel’s father, would have left his gun loaded, its safety off, in a careless place.
"Yes—the police sergeant. It happened in their own home. The gun went off accidentally and shot her in the face. She spent four hours fighting for her life at Jackson Hospital in Montgomery. They took her there in critical condition, with very little chance of survival. She passed away early this morning. It’s truly horrible," Rose’s mother repeats, still unable to believe it. No longer able to contain herself, she finally breaks down. "I’m going to the wake right now, Claire. Thank you very much for telling me." No answer comes at first. "All right, but please be careful. Don’t go falling along the way or anything. We don’t need two accidents instead of one, do we?" the woman says grimly. "Thank you. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. We’ll talk later. I’m heading there now. Goodbye." The young man says his farewells. "God bless you," she says just before ending the call.
The bicycle’s rear wheel skids across the asphalt as Ronald mounts again. He shoots off toward Bodies Funeral Home, four blocks from where he is. Few places in this town are more than five blocks away. As he rides, he feels the profound grief natural to such a loss, pedaling hard enough to make the rusted chain sing at a frantic pace as its corroded links catch as best they can on the chainring’s teeth. Ronald is beyond miserable in that moment.
He thinks often of cheerful Noel—of her incomparable warmth, her smile, her love of dancing at Electric, her habit of running through the park some nights to stay in shape. One memory of her is fresher than any other. The scene that returns most vividly is the mayor placing the Grape Harvest Queen’s crown upon her head. It happened only recently, the previous summer, on a stage erected in Bring Spring’s main square. He remembers her radiant and happy that night, her infectious smile sparkling as it captivated everyone present. He cannot remember it without tears beginning to fall from his exhausted eyes.
He pushes as best he can through the gusts of wind and fog he had watched earlier, the same strong wind now blowing straight at him and pulling the skin taut across his face. More memories come. The last time he saw Noel was only yesterday morning; perhaps not even twenty-four hours have passed. He dwells on that most of all, unable to escape the thought of how young she was when she left this world. She had so much energy, was so beautiful, so joyful, so full of life, that her final loss feels all the more painful. Inevitably, his thoughts turn at once to his best friend, Robert Allen, Noel’s boyfriend.
He tries to put himself in Robert’s place, to imagine the pain he must be feeling at that very moment. It is impossible to conceive of such catastrophe, such agony, the blow this must have dealt his heart. Ronald feels compelled to help him, to stay with him, to try to hold him together. It is the least he can do as his best friend. Lost in these thoughts, he scarcely notices the journey passing, and within minutes he arrives at Noel Norman’s mournful wake. He rests a pedal against the curb, dismounts, and heads inside the building. Once in the viewing room, Ronald sees countless familiar faces.
Many are young, though not all; people of every age have come to share in the girl’s farewell. Ronald sees their haggard faces and unmistakable despair. He greets everyone he can, even embracing some of them. He knows them, and they know him, almost as soon as he arrives. He hears crying here, hushed conversations there, and, every so often, a nervous little laugh somewhere in the room. He speaks with several of those present and embraces some of them again, lingering especially with Mr. Norman and his grief-stricken wife. Noel’s sister is nowhere to be seen.
A short while later, one of Noel’s cousins from Mobile explains that her sister is in a terrible state. Noah has had to remain confined to her bedroom, sedated and under the care of a private nurse. After learning this, Ronald continues speaking with other people. He even talks briefly with Frank, the cadaverous funeral attendant serving coffee, soft drinks, and homemade cookies. As children, Ronald, Robert, and other boys from town used to burst into Bodies Funeral Home and cause a commotion, hoping Frank would chase them through the streets.
Whenever they succeeded, they would sing insulting songs at him, their lyrics alluding to Dr. Victor Frankenstein’s abominable creation. Ronald regrets having subjected the poor man to such foolishness, but he was only a child then. He says goodbye to the girl’s shattered parents. He has already decided he will not go to work that day. Then, riding his old bicycle and pedaling in haste, he sets off for his friend Robert’s house.