Grandfather Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Click, click, click, click went the grandfather clock, over and
over and over in near perfect rhythm.
Click, click, click, click; over and over and over again.
It seemed as if that was all William could hear, that same
repeated pattern, seemingly getting louder and louder and louder. In that passing thought, William realized he
was awake. A moment ago he couldn’t remember, but he could remember realizing
that he was listening to the patterns of the pendulum swing. He must have been
asleep.
He slowly opened his eyes. His body hurt. His legs were worse and
his left hip was unbearable. William suddenly understood he had been in an
accident. He was on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. His body hurt
everywhere. He must have fallen and had been knocked out. Did he have a
concussion? He couldn’t tell. He wondered if that was a good or bad sign. He
had no idea how to diagnose a concussion, especially while he was still on the
ground.
The grandfather clock was in the living room, but it was all that
he could hear. Click, click, click, click; again and again.
It had been his grandfather’s grandfather clock. He had wanted it
because it reminded him of childhood afternoons when his grandfather would
watch him after school. He didn’t remember too much about his grandfather, but
he knew the man loved clocks and watches and gears and had a talent for keeping
them in perfect running order. He used to love hearing the sounds of that
clock. It used to take him back to another time. Right now, though, he hated
that clock.
William’s leg must have been broken. He tried to push himself up,
but he was too weak and his arms were nearly in as much pain as his legs. He
rolled over onto his stomach. He could crawl, he told himself. No matter the
pain, he could push and crawl and he could get himself somewhere.
Rolling over was excruciating. He yelled out in pain as he rolled
over his hip. It must have been dislocated. Or worse. Maybe much worse. He
couldn’t tell. He didn’t know how to tell these things. He just knew it hurt
like hell.
Click, click, click, click, came from the other room.
“Shut up!” he yelled at no one.
The gears turning and shifting and the pendulum swinging. Over and
over and over. Click, click, click, click. It was maddening.
The quarter-hour chimed. What time was it? He wasn’t sure. It was
afternoon. He remembered it being afternoon. So he hadn’t been here injured on
the floor very long. He didn’t know why that made him feel any better. He lived
alone. No one was expecting him to be anywhere to miss him. He wasn’t expecting
anyone himself. Hour, hours, minutes. It didn’t matter. He was in a lot of pain
and no one was going to be finding him any time soon.
Where was his cellphone? It wasn’t on him. Had he left it
upstairs? Or was it on the kitchen table? And why had he disconnected his
landline phone? Now might be the perfect time to have a phone in the hallway.
His son would say so. His son had said William was too old for a two story
house and that he needed to start thinking about assisted living and what to do
in case of an emergency. His son had an annoying habit of speaking his mind.
William hated that sometimes. Now was not one of those times. He wished his son
had said more, done more, demanded more. He wished his son visited more often.
His cellphone should be the first priority. But his body hurt so
much. He didn’t want to move. But he knew he had to. He wasn’t going to get
anywhere if he didn’t move. At least he wasn’t bleeding. Not that he could tell
anyway. That was a major plus. Broken bones could be fixed. But if he was
laying there bleeding, unable to move, then he would have been facing a major
dilemma.
Upstairs or the kitchen? He had to make a choice. He didn’t want
to crawl all they way one direction just to find out he picked wrong and had to
go all the way back the other way. He wished he could remember simple little
things like where he set his phone down at. And what if the battery was dead?
He would have to get to the charger. That was upstairs. Maybe he should just go
upstairs on the chance that both were there. Or he could head for the front
door. That might be closer and faster than any of the other options. It was
afternoon. Certainly someone would see him crawling along outside his house.
Certainly someone would come and help him that way.
They had wanted him in a home or with live-in help. It was too
soon, he told himself. Too soon. Too soon. He was always so stubborn. How was
that a good trait to have? It certainly had gotten in the way this time. But
there was no way he could have foreseen this. He couldn’t be held accountable
for the future. This was an accident. He couldn’t anticipate an accident. That
was what he told himself anyway.
He hurt. He didn’t want to move. Not yet anyway. He would. But not
yet. He just wanted some rest.
Click, click, click, click came from the other room. He listened
to the clock. Over and over again. It kept rhythm. It kept pace.
William thought about his grandfather and smiled.
His grandfather would have told him to be a man and to get up. And
if he couldn’t get up, he should get moving anyway. His grandfather was a man’s
man, a real tough guy. William wondered how tough he would have been with
broken legs and a broken hip. Probably not nearly as tough as he normally
acted. It was always easier to act tough when no one ever put you to the test.
Click, click, click, click. Click, click, click, click.
And then the half-hour chimed.
William barely realized time was passing as fast as it was. His
mind wasn’t in it. He was lost somewhere in deep thought.
Click, click, click, click. Click, click, click, click.
He couldn’t make himself move. He couldn’t find the willpower.
He always liked that clock. It was a good clock. It ran well. It
ran like it was supposed to.
William reminded himself he had once been a reliable machine,
doing what he was supposed to do. His grandfather had taught him to be a man.
He had taught him how to do the right thing even when it was tough and it
wasn’t what he wanted to do. William knew what the right thing to do was. He
listened to the clock and he knew it was time.
Slowly, he started to move.
Click, click, click, click. Click, click, click, click.
William heard it over and over, reminding him, driving him,
inspiring him. His grandfather’s grandfather clock. William was once again on
the move.
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