COMN 2314 Chapter Notes -Beforu (Album), Voicemail
16 Dec 2014
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Chapter Twenty One
I learnt a lot about Eloise. Henry had opened up the gate for me to come in to the
graveyard, and had sat me down just outside of the mosoleum, talking slowly but surely
of Eloise; their marriage, the way they first met, how she died. I was surprised at how
easily it seemed for him to tell me about her, but I knew it was a lot more difficult than he
was letting on. I wanted to tell Henry how much I appreciated him letting me in, telling
me about his life. But I know he would see it only as pity, so I refrain.
From what Henry told me, Eloise seemed to be perfect. I have no doubts, really, that
she was. I find myself wishing I had known her, and it’s odd, but I find myself missing
her, just as Henry does. Something inside tells me that she would have been worth
knowing, and through Henry, I get to know her, and I get to miss her, too.
He would rip weeds out the ground as he told me his stories, his descriptions of Eloise
romantic and accurate, always admirable and loving. He spoke of her at times as
though she were still alive, which was endearing to me, when it should have been
concerning.
“Whenever she would speak, it would be smooth; her words would flow from her lips,
her voice sounding like music, like an angel’s voice. It was beautiful to her sing, to hear
her laugh, to hear her talk.”
“What did she look like, Henry?”
“She looked like peace, Liesel. And hope.”
I don’t think I quite understand what Henry meant when he said that about Eloise. I don’t
know if you can find hope and peace in or with someone. Can you? Is there someone
out there for you that makes you feel “at home,” or at peace? And what are you
supposed to be peaceful about, or hopeful for? I really have no idea if you can feel like
that, if you can find someone who makes you feel like that. I wonder if Eloise felt the
same about Henry.
“How did she make you feel? Did you get butterflies with her?”
“She made me feel...like nothing else in the world mattered.”
“How do you mean, nothing mattered?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“Care to explain?”
Henry stopped picking weeds, and came to sit down beside me. It took him some time
to get down onto the ground; I noticed how hard it was for him to do small tasks; I
wonder if it’s just old age, or something more that keeps him from being as agile as I’ve
always thought him to be.
“She made it seem as though nothing in life could ruin anything; the destruction, the
death...everything from the war; nothing could touch me, while I was with her. The world
could have been crumbling down around me, and I never would have noticed; I never
would have cared. Being with her...it was home.”
I couldn’t have contradicted Henry for the world, at that moment. I hadn’t the slightest
clue that we were capable of feeling that much, for someone. I knew Henry was
passionate about something, I just didn’t realize it was about Eloise.
Maybe there are some people out there who are capable of loving someone enough to
give up everything; to put their whole life on pause, living just for that one person. Not
knowing how to move forward, not wanting to move forward. Being stuck in the past,
living it even through to the future. It scared me to think that love was that powerful, that
capable of changing a person; or keeping them the same.
Could I ever be that capable? Would anyone ever make me feel like Eloise made Henry
feel? Or is love only for some people? Maybe it isn’t for everyone. Maybe some find it,
maybe some don’t. Do I even want to find it, or is this what I’ve been searching for?
Chapter Twenty-Two
I had decided to divide my time between Henry, and real life. I didn’t want to give up on
my friendship with Mark, but I also wasn’t prepared to stop visiting Henry, either. I knew
that Mark didn’t understand, and I wasn’t about to justify my attachment to the
graveyard, or my soft-spot for Henry. I could say Mark was jealous of the time I devoted
to Henry and the graveyard, but then I’d be lying to myself. I guess I wanted someone to
care about me; my mother and I weren’t close, and my father and I hadn’t spoken since
the day I left Russia to live with my mother. I knew Henry enjoyed having someone to
talk to, and to keep him company, but did he care about me? Would he miss me if I
stopped visiting? If i disappeared from his life? I think I would miss him. I think I would
wonder about him, if he still talked about Eloise to anyone. I don’t know how I’d feel
about that.
I spent weekdays with Henry; sometimes I would miss school, tell my mother I was
obtaining volunteer hours when I helped Henry at the graveyard. But really, we just
talked about Eloise, and I sensed that it kept both of sane, even if we were off in our
own little world.
On weekends, I spent time with Mark. I suppose we did everything that people our age
would normally do, had I actually cared. He took me to the movies, we went to dinner,
hung out as his house. I felt as though I was just going through the motions, doing what
I thought I should be doing, saying what I thought I should say. Although Mark was
sweet, and knew when not to broach the subject of the graveyard, I felt years older than
him. Somehow, I felt as though we were on different levels. He wanted from life what
everyone else seemed to want: nothing. I, on the other hand, wanted everything from
life, and that seemed to be the low-point of our friendship.
It wasn’t until I got a call from my dad, that I realized I had a life, somewhere in reality,
and that I had people in my life who might have cared about me.
It was a Wednesday, and I had come home from school, wanting to grab some
sandwiches for Henry and I. I was about to walk out the door, when the phone rang. I
knew my mother was at the office, finishing one of her articles, but for some reason, I
didn’t let it go to voicemail.
“Hello?”
“Liesel?”
I had to hold the phone away from me at first, shocked to hear my father’s voice on the
other end.
“Liesel, are you there?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah dad, I’m here.”
“Well, how are you doing?”
It’s funny, but I had no idea why my father was suddenly calling, after my months of
being here, with no contact. I knew his job demanded a lot of his time; it’s the main
reason my mother felt compelled to break up our family. I just never thought I
would...not miss him this much.
“I’m fine, dad, how are you?”
“I’m doing alright. The university is thinking of transferring me to another department,
something I’m not too happy about!”
“Yeah, that’s kind of odd...” What was I supposed to say? I was having trouble feigning
interest.
“Yes, quite unfortunate. Is your mother doing alright?”
“Umm....” I was slightly at a loss for words. “She’s doing alright?” I stated it as a
question, not knowing what to say. I hardly spoke to my mother, but I had a feeling my
father was asking, expecting me to say no.
“That’s great! I’m glad you two are doing ok together, getting on well.”
Document Summary
I was surprised at how easily it seemed for him to tell me about her, but i knew it was a lot more difficult than he was letting on. I wanted to tell henry how much i appreciated him letting me in, telling me about his life. But i know he would see it only as pity, so i refrain. From what henry told me, eloise seemed to be perfect. I have no doubts, really, that she was. I find myself wishing i had known her, and it"s odd, but i find myself missing her, just as henry does. Something inside tells me that she would have been worth knowing, and through henry, i get to know her, and i get to miss her, too. He would rip weeds out the ground as he told me his stories, his descriptions of eloise romantic and accurate, always admirable and loving.
