A little bell tinkled.
Sitting in the kitchen, a weary Bella sighed as she heard the slight, familiar noise reverberate. She got up, putting aside the paper she had been reading and headed over to the lounge room. It was a small room with a cosy fireplace, brown and white wallpaper panelling and a few plush couches and chairs. A small, slight creature - Grandma Jones – was seated in one of them. Her hand still rested on the small golden bell, so recently rung.
'What is it, Grandma?'
Grandma Jones merely smiled a vacant, toothless smile.
'Hello, dear,' she said, with a slight questioning look on her face, as if she was happy to see Bella but wasn't quite sure what she was doing there. It was with a familiar feeling of despair that Bella returned to the kitchen, to sit on the not-quite stable chair and dream of better days. She turned a page in the paper before her, reading without focusing on any particular thing.
Moments later, a little bell tinkled.
A muscle clenched in Bella's jaw. Shakily, she got to her feet once more and padded back into the lounge room. Grandma was staring back at her, her face with its many seams, lines and bags telling a story of a long lived, difficult life. This time she held, in one fragile hand, an empty cup. Bella walked over to take the cup. On the coffee table next to the lounge chair, there were two pictures framed in silver. One was of Grandma, clearly younger and happier – she was wearing a simple white dress and one arm held a little girl close to her body. The other picture was of another woman and a smiling man, both in wedding attire.
Bella glanced at them, grabbed the cup, and walked away again. She filled it with water and returned it to Grandma, who sipped at it. It was late in the morning now and the heat was stifling. Grandma didn't much like the light; she grew agitated and afraid if the heavy drapes weren't shut. As a result the room was a sauna, although Grandma didn't seem to mind. She just sat in her room, in a sea of memories and cooked in the heat.
She didn't return to the kitchen.
For years now she had cared for and attended to her Grandma's every need. Her every moment was taken up with this self-appointed duty and year after year she felt more and more of herself fade, consumed by her Grandma's voracious, constant need. She was a crutch, a shadow of a person and little more.
*
She got into the car quietly, a little subdued. The drive to the retirement home was silent and uneventful. The car pulled up to a quiet stop outside a long, low structure surrounded by tall, leafy trees. Above it a sign read, 'Erskineville's Golden Retreat, Paradise Come Early,' in bright, shiny lettering.
There were a few cars outside the building and people moved in and about the home, both old and young alike. For a moment she hesitated, not wanting to get out of the car. She had resisted this for so long, determined to hold on to her last living relative – the only tie she had to her parents. For a moment, she almost lost her nerve and turned back. Bella moved her head back fractionally and in doing so caught sight of herself in the window. Her hair, a bright wavy gold once, was a more auburn, listless plait now. Her skin was faded, gaze dull and bleary.
She looked old.
It was this more than anything that finally prompted her to take action. She opened the door and approached the entrance of the home. She stared at the smiling receptionist, with her rosy cheeks, and made a choice.
*
The counter beeped.
For some reason, Bella found her days would always be haunted by small sounds. Without Grandma's pension and the payment given to Carer's, she had had to find a job. It wasn't hard, in the small town of Erskineville; she was well known and liked. She had a green cover-all on and a slight smile was on her face as she bagged the items.
'That'll be $23.90,' she said, staring at his shirt, and sometimes, if she dared, at the bottom of his chin. The money changed hands and he grabbed the bags, throwing a comment over his shoulder as he passed.
'Thanks, Bella.'
She looked up, startled, but he was already gone.
*
Although she'd had the courage to make the change and stand up to account for herself, Bella found she couldn't entirely abandon Grandma. Guilt remained, an ugly taint in her soul that still managed to corrupt her day, so once every second day she would turn up to the retirement home and spend hours there with her.
Grandma seemed to be doing well and there was a new urgency in her, a blossoming of happiness in her expression when she saw her granddaughter. Bella couldn't help but feel gratified by this – it was a welcome change.
Soon, even these visits became shorter and less frequent, until there remained only the one solo effort, every Sunday morning.
*
'Hey B – could you take my shift on Friday?'
It was Michelle, the resident beauty in the shop. She had glossy dark hair that flowed over her shoulders and currently, a beseeching look in her eyes.
Bella sighed, giving Michelle a familiar, knowing look.
'Oh please, and I promise I'll take you out on Saturday – we'll have a great time, yeah?'
Bella frowned, wondering why Michelle would think such a notion would appeal to her. She supposed that to a girl like Michelle, a day out would seem a great idea. She mused on it for a few moments more, before finally giving in. 'Oh, okay, fine. But you owe me,' she said.
Michelle's expression cleared instantly and she smiled, revealing a glorious set of pearl white teeth.
'Yes, definitely! Thanks a bunch, B,' she said and without further ado, drifted away.
Bella couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm as she returned to the magazine in front of her. The shop was quiet at the moment and while she'd never had a great like of magazines before, with so much time on her hands now, she found herself growing addicted to them.
'It's nice to see you smile,' a voice said from behind her.
Bella froze. She knew that voice. Slowly, she turned around and there he stood. This man, a regular, she had been watching for some time now. Ever since, in fact, he'd said her name those few weeks ago. He was tall and while not beautiful or rugged like the men in the magazines, he had a plain, simple charm that appealed to her.
He was smiling at her. Her heart seemed to be trying to smash its way out of her chest and she found it difficult to breathe, all of a sudden. She'd never been in this situation before, at least not for some time – she seemed to remember a little girl, with the only boy she'd ever liked and their painful, embarrassing fumbling – but that was a lifetime ago and a very different little girl.
Now she didn't know what to do, or to say, and so managed only to mumble something.
'I'm sorry?' he said, moving closer.
'I said, ‘would that be all’?' She motioned to the can of deodorant in his hand.
'Oh,' he said, clearly disappointed. 'Uh, yes, for now.'
*
Bella was floating on a cloud of happiness. She fairly breezed into the home to visit Grandma and it wasn't even Sunday. A regular now, she nodded familiarly to the girl at reception, who signed her in, or ticked a box, or did nothing at all. Bella didn't really care.
Grandma was sitting in the recreation hall. It was filled with tables at which games of chess, backgammon and cards were being played by a variety of aged people. Nurses in white stood behind more then a few of them, sometimes leaning over to administer medicine and sometimes even participating.
Bella walked over to the table at which Grandma sat. She was alone; her back was hunched and her sad gaze that never left the tabletop.
'Hi, Grandma,' she said, sitting at the table. Her hair was styled for the first time in a long time and she seemed to sit an inch higher, with a tiny bit of confidence. 'How've you been? Well, I've been good, in fact -' Bella leaned forward, barely able to contain herself. 'I have a boyfriend!'
Grandma didn't respond. She glanced up at her smiling, pretty granddaughter, then away again, a hurt look in her eyes. It hadn't been so long that Bella didn't notice that something was amiss.
'Grandma, what's wrong?'
If she expected a response, she failed to receive it. So they sat quietly for a few moments as the minutes dragged by. Bella didn't know what to do; she'd never been in this position with Grandma before. A nearby nurse sidled over, a comforting expression on her face.
'Don't be so down on yourself, love. Ms. Jones hasn't been herself lately. I suspect she's just a bit lonely. It's been a while since you came round, you know.'
'Oh,' Bella said. She could feel the old tides of guilt and regret washing over her, casting a pall on the day. 'And you've been -'
'Yes,' the competent, friendly nurse cut in. 'I have been taking care of her. I find when she's in these moods, reading to her gets the best response.' The big, block lettering on her name tag identified her as Martha.
Bella turned to Grandma, who remained still and quiet. 'Would you like me to read to you Grandma?' she said, hopeful.
In response, Grandma turned her chair slightly aside, turning her back to Bella. For a small act, it had a powerful impact and Bella felt her heart wrench. Had she been gone so long? She hadn't realised how much Grandma relied on her visits and she cursed herself for getting too caught up in her own life. She'd neglected the most important thing in her world and now she was paying the price.
The silence lengthened, became stretched and awkward. The nurse – her replacement, she reflected with dull disgust - seemed to shift a little. 'You know, just because Ms. Jones won't receive your help, doesn't mean others here can't benefit.'
Bella looked up at her, confused. She wasn't sure she wanted to listen to anything this woman had to say. Some part of her blamed this cheerful, mature nurse for her current dilemma.
'What do you mean?' she said, reluctantly forcing the response out.
'Well,' Martha continued, 'Not every retiree here has a caring, responsible relative to visit regularly – it makes such a big difference to their day to have someone young to talk to, someone not paid to be there.'
'Oh, well…' Bella struggled for a moment. She didn't really want to, so many exciting things were looking up for her but awash as she was in dark, ugly emotions, she couldn't find a reason to say no. It would give her more time to heal the rift with Grandma. 'Okay,' she finished. 'Are you sure they won't mind?'
Martha smiled. 'Fantastic. Most of them will probably think your a relative and others won't care if your not. But I have someone special in mind. Follow me.' And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away.
*
It was nearing closing hours – the supermarket was open to almost 9pm - and Bella was excited. It was the third date she was to have with John and she couldn't be happier. Her mind had been on it the whole day, what she would wear, what she could say and the last, most secret part of her was thinking about what they could do.
The last time, they had danced and she had never felt so alive. When she was with him, every other thought and feeling seemed to fade away. She had never danced or laughed or ate so much – she'd never been noticed like this; to most people, she just faded into the background, a small grey nothing not worth registering. At the end of that night, as they stood in front of her door, he had kissed her. The feeling of their dancing tongues would stay with her over the next couple nights, making her flustered and frustrated.
Michelle was the only other person on tonight and she was busy closing the shop. Ever since that day out, when Michelle had taken her shopping, they had been close friends. Bella smiled at the thought and ran into the back. She'd brought her dress with her, knowing she wouldn't have time to make it home, cook and get ready before John arrived. It would be the first time someone other than Grandma had stepped foot there, in quite some time.
She got changed quickly, fluffing up her hair and walking outside. Michelle had finished packing and was just turning back inside to grab her things when she saw Bella. Her mouth dropped open and she whistled in appreciation.
'Oh my god! You. Look. Stunning.' She came forward and looked Bella over, up, down and back. 'I knew this dress would look great on you.'
It was a rich, black velvet dress that hugged her body. It was sheer, revealing some cleavage and her slim, white legs. It made her feel beautiful, in a new, dangerous way she was only just getting accustomed to.
'You're sure, yeah? It looks good?'
'Of course! How can you even doubt it?'
*
Bella found herself following Martha down the hall, past groups of chattering elders. As they went further down, those groups slowly became fewer and fewer, until there were only people sitting singly, reading or being read to by attendant nurses.
Finally, in the very corner of the room, in a plush, brown armchair sat an old bald man. He was small and emaciated; he was the oldest person she'd ever seen.
'This is Mr. Mason,' Martha said. 'Why, he's been here as long as the establishment and in all those years, not once has someone visited. You could do him a world of good.'
Although she didn't know him yet, Bella's heart went out to the man. His eyes, small and dark, glittered like beetles. They were the only animate part of him and in the hours to come, Bella would feel more and more connected to them.
*
The smell of roasting chicken, herbs and spices, filled the air.
It was quiet in the house; it always seemed to be nowadays. Sometimes, every odd day, Bella would feel a great sadness, an emptiness that could only be filled by the sound of a small, tinkling bell. A moment later, the doorbell rang and this was as welcome a sound as ever. She rushed over, opening the door.
It was John.
She smiled, kissed him and welcomed him into the house. They were talking and chatting within moments, over a lovely meal on the kitchen table.
After a moment, the conversation lulled and they ate in silence. It didn't last long before Bella began to feel a trifle uncomfortable.
'So, I've been visiting the home more often now,' she said, after swallowing her last bite. John made a noise in his throat, but didn't say anything.
'Not for Grandma though, for Mr. Mason,' she said.
John looked up, surprised. 'Oh, I'm sorry, do I know him? Is something wrong with your Grandma?'
'No, no – she's fine. I'm just volunteering to help others there, not just Grandma.'
'Oh, okay. How's that going?'
'Good, good. They have me reading to him. He doesn't talk – he just sits there, so quiet and still that sometimes I forget he's there. He just stares at me, with those brilliant black eyes – half the time I just wonder what it is he's thinking...' she trailed off for a second, lost in memory.
'It's as if - ' she struggled for a minute, trying to explain what she felt, 'It's as if he's trying to communicate with me, I know, I sound crazy, but I swear he has the most expressive eyes you'd ever see. I don't know what it is, but I'm really enjoying it.'
John smiled and said with mock seriousness, 'Sounds like I should be worried about him stealing you away from me.' He laughed, good natured. 'If he wasn't in a home I'd have to go down there and show him what's what.'
They laughed.
*
'Hello, Mr. Mason, how are you?' she said, settling in.
She didn't wait for an answer and he didn't bother supplying one, so she powered on, a nervous fluttery feeling in her stomach. She composed herself before beginning. The tale, of a creature long since relegated to myth – the Wizard – wasn't particularly original or brilliantly written but it flowered beneath her tongue and they both seemed to enjoy it.
As she spoke, she had the most peculiar feeling of a channel, a connection forming between her and the as yet silent, still old man. It formed just beneath her heart, like a small hungry vacuum that sucked at pulled and wouldn't let go. She found herself breathing heavily and incongruously, that her nipples were hard. It made her uncomfortable, but she licked her lips and continued to read.
*
The meal had long since cooled, forgotten in the kitchen.
They were in the bedroom now and for Bella at least, they were exploring whole new realms of sensation. The first time he was in her, moving in a synchronised, smooth rhythm, she couldn't think for the pain. It wasn't long before his experienced touch had her revelling in it, in him, in their entwined bodies and she was soon lost to it all.
It was afterwards, her breasts covered in a light sheen, that she felt and welcomed the knowledge that she had matured as a person, evolved into a woman loved and in love.
*
She was in the home, walking briskly down the hall to the now familiar corner that housed Mr. Mason.
He remained just as she'd left him, alone in his chair, forgotten by the rest, but not by her. There was a slight difference to him she thought, studying him closely, she tried to determine what it was. Was it just her imagination, she wondered, or did he look younger? His skull, normally wrinkled, seamed and spotted seemed smoother. It gleamed in the soft light.
She picked up the same book as before – Rite of Passage it was called – and continued where she left off. The Wizard, a strange alien creature, unknown to this universe, was birthed on another but eventually, after long terrible wars destroyed its own world, managed to tunnel its way into this one. It quickly assumed a similar shape to those natural inhabitants on Earth and began to carve itself a place in mythology and folklore.
As she read, Bella again felt the pull and tug of that strange connection. It was a strange, yet intoxicating feeling that she found herself becoming enamoured of. And yet, it was tiring – not just this, but her life in entirety, she reflected – between work, love and this, she was quickly depleting her energy. She wasn't going to stop though, not now, when she was just emerging into her own, full womanhood.
So she continued to read.
*
'Honey, are you okay?'
'Hm?' she murmured, puzzled. She looked away from the television for a moment. 'Yeah, of course, why?'
'It's nothing,' he said, sounding unsure. 'You just look tired is all.'
Her skin, bathed in the blue-white of the television, seemed even paler than normal. Her hair, a brighter, fuller gold than ever before, seemed bleached and white. Maybe it's just the light, he reassured himself.
A moment passed.
'You know, I've been thinking, maybe we should go away somewhere. Take a break from it all, just you and me.'
*
Initially, it had been about spending more time in the presence of Grandma, about healing the rift. But since she'd begun to read to Mr. Mason, to connect to him, she'd seen even less of her than ever before. Her absence was not lost upon Martha.
'You do know, love, that when I asked you to read to Mr. Mason – I of course was not suggesting that you should completely ignore Ms. Jones?' Martha hesitated, before continuing. 'She misses you terribly.'
Bella nodded but did and said nothing.
Everything else was a pittance – now, more then ever, she had to fulfil her obligations, had to satisfy the pull, the hunger of the connection. She turned back to Mr. Mason with his stern, powerful face.
He looked strong.
*
Bella yawned.
It was the seventh time in as many minutes. The days seemed to pass in a blur, merging into one grey smudge defined only by the pulse, the beat and pump of the tunnel, the vacuum in her heart.
She was being drained.
'So how're things with John?'
Michelle had been speaking for some time but it was this last comment that brought Bella out of her reverie.
'Who’s John?' she asked, bewildered.
Michelle gaped. 'Bella! John – your boyfriend John? - Remember him?'
She did too, but it was a vague distorted memory. 'Oh. Yes. He asked me to go away with him.'
'Oh my god! What did you say?'
*
It didn't matter, she reflected later. All that mattered was the Wizard and Mr. Mason – weren't they one and the same? - She couldn't remember and it didn't matter anyway.
They were experiencing the Wizard's travails, his adventures in this world and others and they were completely engrossed. Mr. Mason sat straight in his chair – he looked to be a strong, stern man in the golden stage of his life. His black eyes glittered.
Bella gasped – the Wizard had been hurt, damaged in a pitched battle with a powerful Witch deep in the plains of Russia. He and she were so close now that they seemed the one and she could feel his pain, that lingering ache deep in her psyche. He survived though and managed to find a nice, comfortable place to hibernate and regather his strength. He would find the means to restore himself, of this there was no doubt.
It was on this confident note the book ended. Curiously, the novel was not finished. Its pages continued onward for some time, but the text had vanished.
*
She sat in the chair, quiet and still. Her body, thin and frail was comfortable in the plush brown armchair. In her hand, she clutched a worn, leather bound book. There was a man nearby and he was tall, handsome and strong. He seemed to be talking to a nurse about her – Martha was smiling, full of charm and enthusiasm. She nodded vigorously.
There was something about the man in front of her that felt familiar and close, as if she should know him or had known him before. When she mentioned it, he merely smiled disarmingly and dismissed it out of hand. A few more moments of talk and the man decided to leave.
He came over to her in the chair. She had a flat thin figure. Her old, bald head was lined, seamed and spotted. He glanced at her and her heart throbbed. His fingers, long and white and perfectly formed, caressed her face. As simply as that, he was gone.
Outside, it was snowing.
