Music of the Heart

by Jeremy Lee




The “Happy Birthday” tune violently caroled from his cell phone. 
He never liked that particular ring-tone just because it annoyed him every
time it played. His co-workers often questioned him about it, and after 
a simple 'No it’s not my birthday,' he always made a note to change it. 
He only left it on because his wife had set it for him on his birthday. 
Though like many lawyers, he didn’t have time to waste, especially on 
trivial items such as this. After throwing a few vulgar words at the 
vociferous phone, he finally hung it up without answering. The melody 
stopped.

Rain droplets tapped against the window, syncopating with his 
footsteps as he sauntered back toward the hospital bed. His wife lay 
weak under the covers, thin cords running like vines from her body to 
the adjacent electrical equipment with a large label that read, 
William Bodnar Medical Center.

“How’s Mandy?” Her voice sounded forced and raspy, but it 
was enough to make Paul smile.

“Oh…I—I think she’s fine. She’s in the waiting room. She—
She’s reading her book.” His eyes sank down to Monica’s hand which 
rested at her side.	

“The one I gave to her for her birthday?” Monica’s eyes lit up proudly.

“I think so. Mon…how are you fee—”

“She loves that book. You know… it’s your job to read it to her
every night now.” 

Her words fed the fire inside him. He was willing to do anything to save 
Monica’s health, even if it meant giving up his job. He couldn’t find 
the words to reassure her, but the glint in his eye was all she needed 
as she returned a confident smile. Her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply.

“Monica?” He was frightened, but he knew she was still there. The sound 
of “Happy Birthday” began to buzz from his cell phone again, ringing 
sharply as Monica opened her eyes.

“Damnit,” he whispered under his breath, “this thing needs to shut up.” 
He walked over and again hung up without answering it. “I swear… I’m 
gonna break this thing.” It ceased—the only sounds left were Monica’s 
chuckles.

“I’m surprised you still have that tone…even when you hate it so much. 
You know… you always made me laugh, Paul, even when you weren’t trying to.”

“Well…I mean… you know, that makes me happy—to see that you’re happy.” 
He stuck his hands in his pockets and gleamed a powerful smile. The 
keys in his pocket clattered, blending with the rhythmic raindrops. The 
rain came more turbulently now as gusts of wind whistled through the 
thick windows. The lights flickered once or twice, while the voice of 
concerned nurses echoed from the main hall.

He always had an uneasy feeling about hospitals, a sentiment that 
would coil his stomach into knots. Besides the idea of a building filled with 
ill patients, the hustle and bustle always made him nervous—nurses 
dodging medical equipment, while doctors frantically headed in and out 
of the Emergency Room. He felt unsafe here, though at the same time he 
felt very protected.

He knelt at the bedside and gazed into Monica’s faded eyes, 
reminiscing the birth of Mandy—the eight pound ten ounce baby girl resting 
in Monica’s arms. Monica was so full of life then, but now she was in 
critically sick condition and all Paul could think about was how life 
used to be. He snapped back to reality and his eyes began to flood 
with water—the realization finally began to kick in. 

“I love you, Paul.” Monica lifted her hand and placed it on his.
Paul closed his eyes as the tears from his heart began to bleed. He 
pictured himself standing on the dance floor at the after-party of their 
wedding. He saw the band playing on the stage—the lead singer jiving to 
the melody of “Twist and Shout”. Gradually his friends and relatives crowded 
on to the floor. He pictured his parents dancing—he’d never seen two old 
people move so vigorously before. Cousin Joey was still at the table 
finishing his Fillet Minón, while drunk Uncle John danced with himself 
in the corner. As the beat of the drums grew, so did the ache in Paul’s chest. 
He flashed forward and remembered pushing Monica on a swing at their cabin 
in Lake Tahoe. He remembered a little squirrel that watched over them as 
he pushed her back and forth. Though it didn’t seem like much then, the 
squirrel seemed much more important to him right now. His lungs grew light 
and his face started to cringe, stained with tears. 

He tightly held her hand, which was now deathly cold. It was a long silence 
but he finally found the strength to speak. “I love you too, Monica.” The 
rain started to die off as well as the intermittent winds and the room 
became silent. He knew it, even before he opened his eyes again—she had 
already passed away. 

He didn’t open his eyes for a while, but when he did, he habitually 
fixed his tie and straightened his coat. He stood up. His tears didn’t seem to 
want to come out anymore and all he could do was stare at his lifeless wife. 
The room was dead silent and all the pleasant thoughts had just vanished. 
His cell phone cried out once more but all he could do was gaze. The buzzing 
of Happy Birthday was a sound that always irritated him, though now it was 
the most comforting thing in the world. He let it ring.