THE LAST HOUR OF SEVEN BELLS
The Visiting Room
The prison was gray.
Gray walls. Gray floors. Gray light filtering through gray windows. The air smelled of sweat and despair, of lives interrupted and futures stolen. Nora stood at the entrance, her hands in her pockets, her eyes on the metal door that separated her from the man who had been her partner for twelve years.
She had visited him twice since the trial.
Both times, she had said little.
Both times, she had sat across from him, staring at his face, searching for answers she already knew.
Both times, she had left with more questions than she had arrived with.
This time would be different.
This time, she was ready to listen.
The guard led her to the visitation room.
The room was small — two chairs, a table bolted to the floor, a glass partition between them. Miles was already there, sitting in his gray prison uniform, his hands cuffed to the table, his face pale and tired.
He looked thinner.
The last few months had aged him.
Nora sat down.
She picked up the phone on her side of the glass.
He picked up his.
“Hello, Nora.”
“Miles.”
“You look well.”
“So do you.”
“Liar.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Nora said.
“Which part?”
“About forgiveness.”
“What about it?”
“I think I’m ready.”
Miles leaned back.
His eyes were sad.
“Ready for what?”
“To forgive you. To forgive myself. To let go.”
“Let go of what?”
“The guilt. The grief. The anger. All of it.”
He was silent for a long moment.
The clock on the wall ticked.
The guard shifted in his chair.
“That’s good,” Miles said.
“Is it?”
“I think so.”
“Then why do I feel so empty?”
He looked at her.
His eyes were wet.
“Because letting go isn’t the end. It’s the beginning. The beginning of something new. Something different. Something you can’t control.”
“I’ve spent my whole life trying to control things.”
“I know.”
“And now?”
“Now you learn to let go.”
She looked at her hands.
They were steady.
“I’ve been reading the letters again. The ones you wrote.”
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
“And?”
“And I think I understand now.”
“Understand what?”
“Why you did it. Why you became the Bellman. Why you couldn’t let go.”
“Why did I?”
She looked at him.
“Because you loved her. Because you loved me. Because you couldn’t save us. So you tried to save everyone else.”
Miles’s eyes widened.
“You’ve been thinking about this a lot.”
“I’ve had time.”
“Time is a luxury in here.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here? You could be anywhere. Doing anything. Living your life.”
She was silent for a long moment.
“Because this is where I need to be.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re here.”
The words hung in the air.
Miles’s face softened.
“Nora—”
“I’m not ready to say goodbye. I’m not ready to move on. I’m not ready to forget.”
“Then what are you ready for?”
She looked at him.
“To start.”
“Start what?”
“Start over. Start fresh. Start something new.”
“With me?”
“With you. With Lena’s memory. With the life I have left.”
He reached toward the glass.
His hand pressed against it.
She pressed hers against the other side.
Their palms touched.
Through the glass.
Through the years.
Through the pain.
“I’m scared,” she said.
“I know.”
“Good. Fear will keep you alive.”
“I don’t want to be alive. I want to be free.”
He smiled.
It was a real smile, warm and bright and full of love.
“Freedom is a lie. There is only choice. Only consequence. Only hope.”
The guard announced that visiting hours were over.
Nora stood.
She pressed her hand against the glass one last time.
“I’ll come back,” she said.
“I know.”
“Next week.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Same time?”
“Same place.”
She turned.
She walked to the door.
She didn’t look back.