The Forging

by Jeffrey Hancock

  “Okay. Well, I never have… Then when… sometimes I hate your memory. It’s so damn inconvenient.”

  “It may sometimes, but it has its perks. Can I tell you everything?” I started talking. I told her everything except the loss of our son. She took it all rather well. She didn’t believe me about talking with ghosts. In a lot of ways, she is like her father. She won’t believe it until she sees it, and even then, she will want to peek behind the curtain. “Wait here. I will be right back.”

  As I am walking to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of orange juice, I could hear her say, “Where do you think I would go?” Her feistiness is returning. It is heart-warming to hear, and a welcomed sign. Returning to our bedroom with the glass of OJ in hand, I turned on the light.

  I sat in bed and took Char’s hand. She rubbed her thumb across the back of my hand like on our third date. It warmed my insides. After I downed the juice, I placed the image of Char’s mother in my mind and said, “Marlene Louise Gustafson, please come. Your daughter would like to say hi.”

  “Nathan, you are being…” but before she could finish her sentence, Marlene materialized in our room and smiled. Charlene’s grip on my hand turned into a vise. I am going to need to put some ice on it when we are done. “Mommy, is it you?” Charlene said like a little girl. “Nathan, how are you doing this? This better not be a trick. If it’s a trick, I will never give you the special something you like me to do on your birthday again.”

  Marlene spoke, “Charlie, it is no trick. My love for you and your father has kept me here. Nathan only called me forth.”

  “I’ve missed you. I was so mad at you for dying.” Char broke her grip on my hand and held it to her heart. “Pain Nathan, it hurts. Where did she go?” Char cried out again even louder.

  “It’s a shock. Believe me, I know. Should I call for an ambulance?”

  “No. No, it’s getting better. It is an emotional pain, not physical. It still hurts like the dickens though.” She calmed down a bit. “Where did she go? Nathan, bring her back.”

  “She is still here. You can’t see her unless you’re touching me. Take my hand again.” Char latched on to my hand again. “Ouch. See she is right there.”

  “Mom, there is so much I want to say. There is so much I want to ask.”

  “My little Charlie, you can always talk to me. My answering is up to him,” Marlene said with a smile.

  Charlene started spewing “I’ve tried to take care of daddy as best I could. I’ve gone to college. Did you know I earned my Bachelor’s Degree? Moiraine, I have tried to raise her as I thought you would want me to. Mom, I’ve…”

  Marlene walked over to her Charlie and wrapped her arms around her and began to rock Char as you would to comfort a small child. “It’s okay. I have always been with you and your dad. I am very proud of the woman you have become.”

  “I was doing okay until your mother started to hold you. The orange juice isn’t going to hold me much longer. Char, I need you to let go of me. I am beginning to feel… The room is spinning.” Charlene let go of my hand. Immediately I felt better, but I am crazy-hungry. “Food! Ravenous. I need to eat. I’m going to make a sandwich or fix a bowl of cereal.” When I tried to stand up, my head swam. “Maybe I’ll wait here for a moment.”

  “Nathan, was that my mother?”

  “Yep.”

  “How can you… never mind it’s not important. Can I see her again?”

  “Char, it took a lot out of me. I need some rest, but mostly, I need something to eat. I feel like there is a hole in my stomach, and I could eat my pillow.” I tried out my legs again, and they are better. “I’m going to make myself a snack now.”

  “Sit back down, Husband Mine. I’ll fix you something.”

  “It would be angelic of you, but I know you are still on the mend. It isn’t…”

  “Sit back down, or I’ll sit you down, Husband Mine.” She stood and went to the kitchen. The gentle sounds of her moving around in there filled the air. After a time, she came back into our room carrying a tray. She put it across my lap.

  There is a beautifully grilled cheese sandwich on a small plate. The first bite tasted so amazing. It has a few slices of ham in the center. It is warm and cheesy. The bread had the perfect amount of crunch. I tried to eat it slowly and savor every morsel. Like a man dying of thirst, I drank deeply from the tall glass of milk she also brought. It is all delicious. This meal is the first Char had prepared since the awful day. “Charlene, a simple cold sandwich would have been fine.”

  “The grilled cheese and milk is not all,” she said as she pulled out a bag of Hershey’s Kisses from her nightstand. She doled out a handful to me and took one for herself. “You did not see that.”

  “See what?” I consumed my share of the chocolate trove as Char ate hers. “This is a welcoming finish to a great snack.” Giving my beautiful wife a light kiss, I said, “Goodnight.”

  Char answered, “Goodnight, my love.” She rolled over, and we both attempted to go to sleep.

  Not ten minutes later, my cell phone went off. I answered it, “Yes? You have to be kidding. Tomorrow? Alright, I will see you then.”

  “Who was it, Husband Mine?”

  “Work. They want me to come in the morning. It seems they are ready for the next step. Go back to sleep.” I set my alarm for bright and early in the morning. “There goes sleeping in tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Groggily I stood, turned off the alarm before it sounded and woke Charlene. Stumbling out of bed, I made my way at a zombie’s pace. Usually, I put on some strong coffee for Charlene; however, Doctor’s orders no caffeine for a time yet. She’ll have to be satisfied with decaf. The doc is playing it safe. It’s a smart play by my reckoning. Out of the chill chest, I took my morning Diet Pepsi. I downed it quickly. The jump-starting of my heart and mind is needed this morning. My energy reserves are drained. Did I get any rest last night?

  There is not enough time for me to fix anything fancy for breakfast today, so I prepared some old-fashioned oatmeal. I wish I had the time to make Irish oatmeal. Those are some stomach warming eats. Making it with cut-up dried apples and a healthy amount of cinnamon, it’s like eating apple pie for breakfast. The first time I served Irish oatmeal to Mo instead of putting milk in the bowl, I put in a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Charlene hit the roof until I explained it is the same as putting milk and sugar in the bowl. She did not like conceding the point. Some of my fondest memories of Char are when I get her to admit I am right on some point or another. It’s like hitting the Lotto, but a great deal rarer.

  My girls assembled at the table, so I served up breakfast. Blossom’s tail thumping told me she wanted something special too, so I took her an extra doggie treat. Sitting down at the table and looking at my family, I smiled inwardly. It is a perfect quiet moment together.

  The clock on the wall said it is time for me to be picked up for the next step in the great adventure. I kissed my girls goodbye and put my bowl in the sink. It was perfect timing as I exited the house as the limo pulled up to the curb. Briskly I walked to the awaiting car and driver. I raced the driver to see if I could beat him to the door. Alas, I was too slow. “One of these days I’ll beat you to it.”

  The driver gave a hint of a smile as he said, “Hai.” We made the trek to the warehouse without talking. Before the driver could get to my door, I opened it. He smiled a bigger grin, shook his head, and said, “Hai,” under his breath.

  This is a wonderful morning. My worry the parasite, as I call it, will return and kill us has been lifted off my shoulders. Oh, he will be back, but seeing my wife somewhat whole again and helping my daughter with her night terrors gave me some needed confidence.

  As I passed through the door into the warehouse, I noticed changes. Gone are the broken pieces of the Tatara and what was left of the satetsu, the black iron sand. The tamahagane is still there only it is cold. The hearth is still unlit. My master approached and bowed. Bowing in return, I heard my m
aster speak, “Come we pray,” is all he said. Then turned and began walking to the shrine and I followed. As before, we prayed. Again, I felt a sense of serenity surrounding me. It is a peaceful calm like a deep breath and exhale, which ejects out the madness of the day, week, year, or even life.

  When we were finished with the ritual, my master turned and walked toward the tamahagane. He reached out and touched the huge ingot. It is mostly dark with bits of a shiny silver metal throughout. He took back his hand, then bowed to the tamahagane. He gave what sounded like an order to someone in Japanese. A helper brought me a large sledgehammer. Asahara, my master’s nephew, had a sledgehammer as well. The master said only one word more, “Begin.”

  Asahara started swinging his hammer against the tamahagane. Bits and pieces began flying off. I followed suit and started swinging away. It feels oddly satisfying hammering the crap out of the metal. We soon developed a rhythm to our onslaught. My coworker and I are swinging in counterpoint to one another. As my stroke fell, he lifted his hammer and vice versa; it is a dance between Asahara, the tamahagane, and me. We circled the ingot slowly breaking it up. After a time, we took a break for water. Asahara took off his work shirt. Feeling heated as well, I removed my shirt. My complexion is pasty, but compared to Asahara, mine looked like I had been working the fields picking crops all my life. During our respite, the master was looking over the broken pieces of tamahagane. Some of the pieces he threw back down; others he handed to an assistant. This follower had a bag over each shoulder. He put the darker pieces in one bag and the brighter pieces in the other.

  After about a fifteen-minute break, we returned to our labors with renewed strength and vigor. Time seemed to pass at a different rate as our dance had a hypnotic effect on me. Soon it was lunchtime. My mouth is watering at the thought of a Double-Double. Sadly, I was disappointed. One of the helpers brought in a couple of armloads from Rubios Home of the Fish Taco. He was loaded down with fish tacos, chips, and beans. Fish tacos are not my favorite, but they’ll do in a pinch

  Lunch was eaten, during which conversations between all the men present started up. A feeling of isolation is mine. Not so from the fact, I don’t speak Japanese, but there has not been enough time to form bonds with these men. While listening to the rhythm of their conversations, I feigned napping in my chair. It wasn’t only the rhythm I was listening to, but the emotions as well. These men shared something I did not have. They shared friendship. Other than Charlene, and we are friends, I haven’t had a friend in a long time. All I have in life are responsibilities. They are enough to overwhelm a man and drag him down. They are weights tied around my neck. I have no friends to throw me a life raft. As I look back to all those I hurt in my youth, it is fit punishment that, except for family, I would be alone. The gloom is beginning to overwhelm me. I shook it off before letting it seep in any deeper.

  The lunch break was over, and we returned to our task. After a time, there was only a small fraction of unbroken tamahagane left. Masafumi Asahara bowed to me and backed away from the metal. He motioned for me to continue. Again and again, I swung my hammer. Each swing is a little faster than the last. A surge of energy flowed into me. It welled up in me from my feet, through my legs, into my gut, and leaped into my heart. With the next beat, my heart sent the energy to spread into my whole body. Crying out in a challenge to the whole, I threw all my strength into one mighty swing. The tamahagane rang as pieces flew off in all directions. A gasp came from all who worked there. The hammer is too heavy for my exhausted arms, so I set down the hammer with the handle standing up. Leaning on the handle, my lungs heaved with labored breaths.

  I looked at what remained of the untouched tamahagane. What was left from the heart of stone is a shiny remnant perhaps the size of a shoebox. It is dazzling. A ray of sunlight struck the shiny metal. The light was shattered into too many pieces to count with all playing on the walls of the warehouse like a disco ball from a wedding reception. The master, my master, looked to me, smiled, and bowed. The sound of him whispering something in Japanese could be heard. Somehow, I know it translates into English as “It is born. Now, it must be shaped.”

  Thirst gnawed at my body, so I asked for some water. One of the helpers brought me a tall glass of water. Deeply I drank and managed to get some in my mouth. Weary, I am so weary. It is a virtuous fatigue the kind I get after honest hard work. My muscles will be complaining at me tomorrow, but I’ll endure the agony with a smile.

  Nobuharu Makiyama walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. Looking at this man, I could see heavy bags under his eyes, and I felt exhaustion about him. His eyes gave a little twinkle as he said, “Nathan-san, you did very well today. Hai, yes, very well.” We stood there and exchanged many words, not spoken. He nodded once at me, “Your wife, how is she doing?”

  “Our family has been blessed. The doctor says she will make a full recovery in time.”

  “My heart sings with joy at the news. Now, tonight, go home. Take hot shower. Relax and sleep well. Tomorrow is when we really begin.”

  “Oh, yes, I will sleep well. It will be like the sleep of the dead, and I’ll be twice as hard to raise.” I said my goodbyes, then headed out the door to the patiently-waiting driver and limo. The driver is standing by the already opened door. I sat down, and we headed home. The gentle rocking of the car and hum of the engine as we traveled the streets of San Diego relaxed me enough I took a catnap during the trip home. I woke as we pulled up to the curb in front of my home. I saw John’s car is on the street. It looks like we have a most welcome guest for dinner.

  Walking through the front door, my ears were assaulted with the welcomed sound of, “Daddy’s home” along with the happy patter of Moiraine’s feet heading my way. Mo gave me an extra hard squeeze of a hug at my return. “Daddy, grandpa is staying for dinner. He said he would take me out for some ice cream

  John stood from the recliner and expounded, “With all that has gone on, I thought you and Charlene could use a little alone time.”

  Char piped up with, “Dad, I am nowhere near healed enough for…”, she paused, “alone time.”

  “Get your mind out of the bedroom girl. All I’m doing is giving the man who married my daughter and fathered my granddaughter time to remember what it is he’s fightin’ for. That monster out there has killed four cops and his mother for heaven’s sake. Sometimes a man needs to restore his strength. As I see it, Nathan is going to need all the strength he can muster.”

  “Dad, you sound like a recruiting poster. Besides with all the heat he’s getting from the police, I’m sure he is long gone.”

  “No, he’s not. This one takes things right personal. Charlene, I’ve done some digging on my own just to get a better idea of what Nate here is in for. This Mark fella was locked in a hospital where they take away your belt and shoelaces. I called in a few favors from nurses your mother knew. They told me he was one cold and calculating bastard. Acted at being mental and all. Them nurses saw through it, but the head doctor knew better. Knew better my ass.” Both Moiraine and Char voiced their displeasure at John’s choice of words. “It was the right word, so I used it. Where was I? Oh yes. That trickster pulled the wool over the doctor’s eyes and got out. The next night the nurse who sounded the alarm loudest got herself killed. The police said it was a home break-in gone wrong. The rest of them nurses knew better. Give me a nurse any day for knowing what’s what in a hospital.”

  “Mommy, I don’t understand? I am scared, and grandpa is yelling.” Moiraine went running to her mother and threw her arms around her.

  Charlene hugged her daughter back and made some hushing sounds then said, “Moiraine, you have nothing to be afraid of, and grandpa forgot mommy’s hearing is perfect.”

  “Can I still get some ice cream with grandpa?”

  “Yes, you can still get some ice cream. You can have any flavor you want.”

  “Any ice cream I want?”

  “Yes, any ice cream you want.” Wow! She didn’t sound at all l
ike my wife.

  “Can I have a triple scoop sundae with three different flavors and hot fudge and whip cream?”

  “Yes, you can,” Char said, sounding a little frustrated with Mo pushing it.

  “Cherries and nuts?”

  “I said anything, Moiraine.” Now, Char sounded near the end of her patience.

  Moiraine immediately said, “Okay, Mom.” Mo went running to her grandpa and grabbed his hand. “Come on, Grandpa, let’s go,” as she started to drag John.

  “Moiraine you know better. You can get ice cream after dinner,” Char said with finality in her voice. This sounds more like my wife.

  Mo started to half-laugh as she said, “A girl can hope.” I’m with Mo on this one. Why wait until after dinner? You may be too full to eat it then.

  A chime went off in the kitchen. Charlene said, “Dinner is about ready. Everyone gathered around the table.”

  We all took our places while Char brought in the meal. Stunned is the only way I can describe what I feel. There is not one healthy bite on the table. There is a salad, but it is swimming in ranch dressing. I think there is more dressing than salad. The main course is meatloaf, where she puts crumbled bits of bacon in it. My arteries began clogging up, just looking at it. The side dishes are as evil as well. Real mashed potatoes with butter resided in a large bowl. Real brown gravy made from scratch is delightfully congealing in its boat. My eyes must be lying because, there sat a bowl of broccoli with cheese sauce, but not any cheese sauce. I exclaimed, “Cheese Whiz. You made me broccoli with Cheese Whiz.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t call anything that comes out of a jar cheese. It is broccoli with Whiz.”

  Moiraine giggled “Mommy, it sounds like you put tinkle in it.” John snorted but regained his composure quickly.

  “Well, whatever it is, it looks scrumptious,” came out of my mouth as I filled my plate with large portions of every item.” It is a delight enjoying this rare treat when I stopped and looked at Charlene and said, “Okay. What gives? A grilled ham and cheese snack last night and some of my all-time favorites tonight. Are you feeling guilty or something?” With true panic, “Did you get some horrible news from the doctor you didn’t tell me about?” My brain began running through some awful scenarios, all ending with Char dead or gone.