Day 15: The Man Behind the Desk--Part Two

-Entry 405-

I heard the most heart-wrenching sound this morning.  It was a cry unlike any I’ve heard before.  A cry of sheer agony and complete pain.  I saw someone who looked like a doctor rush by me a half hour later, followed closely by the maid who was speaking so fast it sounded like gibberish.  Yelling came from one of the rooms for about two hours and then all was dreadfully quiet.  Deathly quiet.  The imagination runs wild in situations like these.  I didn’t really know what had happened, but I had my suspicions.  They proved to be true.  A body was carried out on a stretcher.  Phillip was holding Freda as she sobbed uncontrollably.  Little Nora held one of her mother’s hands.  Neither of the twins were to be seen.  I realized the body had to be one of them.  I can tell the difference between the two, but the body was covered by a sheet.  I don’t know who has passed.

-Entry 406-

It was George the older of the twins.  I still don’t know what happened and I don’t know that I ever will.  I’ve head yelling coming from the twin’s room.  I still haven’t seen William.  My heart is heavy and my stomach is in knots.  I can’t imagine how he must feel.  

-Entry 410-

I saw William for the first time since George died.  He wore a black suit and tie.  Outwardly and at first glance he looked incredibly put together.  I can’t imagine the effort it must have taken to appear so.  It was the funeral day.  If you didn’t know him, you would have thought his expression to be at peace.  But I’ve watched him for over a year now.  I’ve never seen a sadder face.  Looking closely, it seemed he could barely walk.  Each step was agony.  His entire being suggested pain.  The family left.  The servants were all in the kitchen preparing food for when the Carltons got back.  I heard a sob and looked up.  There was the couple having a picnic in the painting across the way.  The girl was crying.  The man looked up at me.  I saw the tears in my eyes reflected in his.  We nodded at each other.  This wasn’t part of the job description.

-Entry 441-

William has taken to wandering the halls at night.  The hours are longer than ever.  He paces my hallways much of the time.  He has taken a liking to my painting.  He sits or stands for hours on end, with a flashlight on me, just staring.  I think he finds some form of comfort in my expression.  Maybe it reflects in some way how he feels.  It hurts every night now watching him in such pain unable to do anything to help.  I wish this job wasn’t mine.

-Entry 460-

I know how William feels.  I know because he tells me.   He is lonely and empty, as if a piece of him has been torn away.  He tells me this every night.  Every.  Single.  Night.  As he speaks, I feel myself wither.  It hurts more and more with each midnight confession.  I want to speak to him so badly, to tell him it will be alright.  To tell him he’s not alone.  But I can’t.  It would be breaking my vow of silence.  I despise this job.  I hope they can find me a replacement soon.  I don’t know how much more of this I can handle.  Every night I watch someone in the deepest pain imaginable and I am not allowed to do a single thing about it.  What is worse; to break a promise or to sit still in the midst of the darkest depths and do nothing?

-Entry 478-

Last night was the hardest night of my life.  He broke.  William finally broke.  And it wasn’t just a break.  It was as if a million pieces he had been trying to hold together finally fractured completely.  One moment he was telling me about a memory of his twin brother and the next he was sobbing, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking.  He was sitting on the floor rocking back and forth.  My heart broke.  Maybe it shattered alongside his.  And I was not allowed to say a thing to this hurting young man.  But I did.

            “William this isn’t the end.  Things will get better.”

            He raised his head.  “Who said that?” he asked.

            “I can’t tell you,” I said.  “But I can guarantee things will get better.”

            “How can you?”

            “Can you imagine darker days than these?”

            He thought for a moment.  “No, I don’t think so.  I suppose not.”

            “Then that must mean there are brighter days ahead.  One of these days the sun will break through the clouds.  You will move on.  Not past the memory of your brother, but you’ll learn to live without him.  Wounds do heal.  The scars will remain and ache from time to time but the pain won’t be so overwhelming.  You will be thankful for the time you spent with him and not angry for the time you didn’t have.”

            William began crying again.  “I don’t see how,” he said.

            “William, you must speak with your family.  Tell them how you feel.  You are not the only one hurting.  You can make it through this with their help.”

            I saw a lamp light flicker on and slowly approach us.  As it got closer, Phillip appeared as the holder with Freda, his wife, by his side.  They sat on either side of their son.  Not a word was said.  They just enveloped him in a holy embrace and a love deeper even than death.  They cried together on the floor.  And in that moment, wounds began to close and scars began to form. 

-Entry 480-

I got fired.  I broke my vow of silence.  I don’t have an ounce of regret.  I didn’t know disgrace could taste so sweet.  Thankfully, they granted my wish to work for just one more day.  I took the opportunity and didn’t move from the Desk the whole day.  Twenty-four hours straight.  I watched the Carlton family, taking in everything I could.  In the morning I saw William walking by holding Nora’s hands.  They were laughing at a memory of one of George’s pranks.  They laughed and cried together.  I heard a lot of that; laughing and crying.  William walked down my hallway late in the night again.  He stopped and stood where he had been sitting the night before, where wounds began to close and scars began to form.

            “I don’t know who you are,” he said, “but thank you.” 

            Then he looked straight into my eyes.  I don’t know whether he knew or if he was just taking one last look at a face that had been his companion.  He stood there for a moment and then turned and walked away.  I listened to the heels of his shoes click down the hallway, knowing it would be the last time I heard that sound.  A peaceful quiet settled on the hallway.  And then I heard someone clap, rupturing the silence.  And then another pair of hands joined in and another, until the sound echoed and bounced off of the hallway walls and reverberated across the entirety of the house.  I knew the clapping was for me.  Every person in the other paintings, in my hallway, was clapping for me.  They knew I would get fired for breaking my vow of silence.  They knew they would be fired for applauding because they had made the very same vow.  But they clapped all the same.  It was their salute and farewell to me.

            All was once again quiet by the time the Carltons and their servants arrived in the hallway.  The paintings were still as they should be.

            “Freda, I think we might be haunted,” Phillip said.

            After thoroughly searching the house, they returned to their beds to what I assumed to be a rather restless night.  I looked across the way at the man having a picnic with his girlfriend.  He nodded at me.  I nodded at him.  And this was the end to my final day as “The Man Behind the Desk”.