The Shelf

Author's notes: There is no sex in this story. To some, this story may seem morbid, sappy, and nonsensical. Forgive me, readers, but it is something I had to unload. I hope it may be meaningful to some.

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The Shelf

A promise finally kept

Tom sat in his recliner reading his Bible as he had done nearly every day. It was dog-eared and falling apart, an old friend. He had more time for it now than ever since he got sick anyway. Yeah, he had cancer, the big C. Most people wouldn't even say the word unless it pertained to someone they didn't know well. It was a modern plague, and he had prayed for many in his same spot. It was scary. He had to admit that, but he had seen a lot of frightening things in his life, and he knew this was the last one.

His wife, Margaret, called from the kitchen and asked if he needed anything because she was going to the store. He replied that he didn't and prepared himself for her appearance. Sure enough, as they had done every time one left the other, she sought him out, and they kissed goodbye. Forty-three years come April, he thought with just a little pride. They chit-chatted for a while when she finally said she would be a couple of hours because she intended to visit with Julie, their daughter-in-law. He smiled and told her he would be all right and to enjoy herself. She also smiled, the sad smile she had only recently begun to have since he got sick. The wrinkles were a little deeper, and her mouth was not quite so upturned as the smile he had fallen all gaga over so many years ago now, the one that had resided with him all those forty-three years. The smile that he remembered had gotten him through all those times, good and bad, that their life entwined together had come to mean. Oh, how he wanted that smile back, but he knew he was the cause. Through all those years, no matter how bad it had been, they faced it together. For the first time, she would have to face this without him.

Bending down, she kissed him a second time, and he took her hand and squeezed it gently.

"See you in a bit," she said, turning for the door.

He let his head fall back on the pillow under his head and sighed. Damn, he thought he would have lasted more than two years after he retired. He stared unfocused at the blank screen of the television, deep in thought. Tom reminisced about times past that added all together, made up his life, his children, his wife, and those that had come into and gone out of his life. All of those that he loved, some with little regrets, at hurts and problems that seemed, at the time, so important but now failed to be of any significance. He didn't think of work or career but of family and friends.

As he sat, he noticed that old shelf on the wall. Broken for more than ten years and temporarily tacked up several times, it had dumped its contents on the floor so often that Margaret had given up putting anything on it. He could not count the number of times he had said he would fix it, promised to fix it. It seemed ironic that such a simple task, of no consequence to him a couple of years ago, was monumental to him now. His tools were all relegated to the basement, and he would have to face the stairs twice. He would need the folding step stool to reach it, and he wasn't sure he had the strength anymore to do it.

It was at this moment the plan formed in his mind. He could get down the stairs to the basement and use the workbench stool to rest. He knew what he would need to get, tool and fastener wise, so he could load them in that old bucket to make it easier to carry up the stairs. The folding step stool could be picked up from the kitchen on the way back. With nothing under the shelf to move, access was easy. Returning the tools, he could lower them through the laundry chute and sprint the last leg back. He smiled at the word sprint. It would be what he would call it now, anyway.

Then he thought, "How stupid." Then he thought, "What a great idea."

Then he thought about how Margaret would yell at him for risking himself. Then he thought that maybe, just maybe, it would return her old smile, the one he loved so much, for just a moment.

The first leg of the trip wasn't as bad as he thought. He was a little unsteady on the stairs, but not bad. He found the bucket, collected his tools, and made sure he had everything by carefully thinking through what he needed to do. He only needed a short rest on the stool.

The trip up the stairs was another story. Initially, Tom tried to hold the bucket and climb the stairs but found that this challenged his balance so much that he couldn't. The only way to do it was to set the bucket on the step, step up and lift it onto the next step. Although it took some time, it didn't take all that long. He got more out of breath than he had been in a long time. He panted, and his ribs hurt, but he didn't care. He thought of that hill 937 in Vietnam. He read on Wikipedia that they called it Hamburger Hill now. That climb had been a lot harder.

He stopped in the kitchen to get the folding step ladder and took a short break. With his legs burning and his ribs aching, he sat on one of the kitchen chairs and waited for his panting to subside and to catch his breath. That chemo had taken a lot out of him, but he gathered his resources and set his mind to completing his task.

He set up the folding step ladder and plugged in the tools. Even in his condition, it didn't take long, and he marveled at how stupid he had been all these years to let this go when so little effort would have made his wife so happy. Once he had the last screw tight, he climbed down and looked at his handiwork. It looked ok, but the problem was he realized it didn't look any different. What could he do? Well anyway, he had to return the tools.

His trip back was considerably slower. He needed to stop at the kitchen, on the stool in the basement, and at the kitchen again. The only thing different he did from his initial plan was he didn't lower the bucket down the laundry chute. Frankly, it seemed silly to him to have thought of it, so he just set the bucket on the step, then stepped down and repeated the process as he descended the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, he was beginning to realize that his energy reservoir was about gone. He would have to gut it out. He had done that before, and he could do it again.

On the return to the room, he stopped in his den and returned to his chair. He used up the last of his energy to pull the blanket onto his lap.

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Margaret entered the house carrying the groceries and took them into the kitchen. Normally, she would have announced herself, but Tom had been so tired lately that she wanted him to get all the rest he could. She busied herself putting the few perishables away and intended to check on him and return to put the rest away. She tip-toed in and saw him sitting in his chair. Her heart sank as she realized that something wasn't right. Kneeling next to him, she could not detect the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest and realized that he had gone on before her. She loved him, and they had talked of this moment before and that they would again meet in the paradise promised to them by their creator. He had done his best to prepare her, but she couldn't hold back the inevitable tears.

She noticed his Bible in one hand and an envelope with her name on it in the other. She took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a card. It was one of those cards you pick up in the gift shop to remind you of someplace you now can't remember to remind you of a time you have long since forgotten. It was a manly type of picture of some ducks or something. She opened it, and it read.

Smile, I fixed the shelf, finally. Find something nice to put on it. I love you. Tom

Margaret smiled the old smile.

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The bull elephant seal dragged himself out of the surf, the scars of a thousand battles emblazoned upon the old bull in the afternoon sun. He was coming home where thirty years ago he had been birthed. He had come home to die.

He was tired and put his head down upon the cool sand, awaiting the inevitable. As he lay there, a feral dog from a long abandoned fishing village darted and sniffed closer and closer until it spied the aged seal. Yapping and barking, the cur came running, sniffing, and nipping.

Suddenly the bull reared up and lunged at the dog, nearly connecting with his teeth, sending the dog yapping away in fear. The bull stayed raised a moment to ensure this pest would not return. Then he laid his head down on the cool sand and died.