A Bell Through The Night [H.S.]

part one.

August 24, 1975.

It's a phone call that has you in the Arizona desert at the tail end of the summer months. Harry had gone down days before you for a meeting. Work had been slow in coming your way for a few weeks and photographing locals for a small newspaper in the city had left you with little to be desired. So when he'd asked for you to join him on this specific day, in this specific place, you were more than excited to oblige. The trek from the opposite coast hadn't been as bad as you thought it would be. You were nervous at first because, up until this point, you had never been on a plane. But there was something about the ride amongst sun kissed, gossamer clouds that made you never want to get off.

Now you were stood at the airport, wedged in a phone booth, camera strapped and hanging from your neck. Your small blue suitcase tucked in between your legs as you rest the phone between your ear and shoulder. Rooting around in your denim jacket pocket for the piece of paper containing the phone number for the motel Harry was staying in, as well as an address. You find it, then drop a dime into the coin slot. The dial tone buzzes loudly through the receiver before a pre-recorded woman's voice prompts you to dial "the number you wish to reach."

The shrill phone ring bleeds through,  becoming the soundscape for your observation of your surroundings as you wait for him to answer. Two young children run around screaming and laughing, a young couple sit cuddled up together on an island bench, a TSA guard, with his too small button up shirt, stained with sweat, smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee at a counter cafe. You scratch your arm, it had been weeks since you'd decided to quit smoking and it was getting harder and harder everyday to not just cave.

"Hello?"

His voice pours through the phone like honey, comb still in, static dancing around the accompanying silence. You jump even though you had been expecting his voice, you hadn't realized just how long it had been since you'd last spoken.

"Hey, Harry, Hi," you speak, while fumbling to readjust the phone, settling on just holding it up to your ear with your hand.

"Hey love, y'here? How was the flight?"

"Good, good. I mean there was a baby crying the whole way down but I feel worse for their mom than I do myself and the attendants just seemed like they wanted to jump out of the plane, sans parachute, ya know? It was wild, so beautiful but like, we were up so high. It's weird to think about how far technology has come. Uhm, are you picking me up still?" You ramble and Harry notices, his soft chuckle trickles through the phone, notifying you.

"You nervous or something, bunny?"

You laugh, waving your hand in the air in front of you, as if doing so would fan away the acute feelings of anxiety that followed you from your home, onto a plane, and right to Sky Harbour International airport. You hated surprises and although you had been together for nearly three years, you weren't sure if Harry had known.

"No, no. I'm fine. Totally copasetic."

There's a light shuffling on the other end of the phone as well as a few soft voices but none clear enough for you to distinguish.

"Choice. I can't pick you up. I gotta finish up getting your surprise ready but I will meet you at the motel at six, you have the address. Y'alright with taking a cab?"

You glance around the airport. The TSA guard is now talking to a woman who is holding the hands of the two children that were rebel rousing earlier. She looks exhausted.

"Yeah, yeah. I can... I can do that."

"Alright! I'll see you then," the smile on his face was evident through his words, bringing the corners of your lips as well.