The Doorbell (Exercise 16)

The Doorbell (Exercise 16)

During the first three years Bea and Tom rented the house on Cedar Street once every few months the doorbell would ring without it having been rung. It never happened more than three times a year, so they didn't think very much of it. They made occasional jokes about a ghost, but no serious concerns or explanations arose.

But then the doorbell started ringing more frequently. At 3am. Or 5am. Once a week. Then three times a week.

“Should I see if I can unhook the doorbell,” Tom asked Bea.

“But what if we actually need it? How will I be able to hear UPS?”

“I don't like being woken up by it. I feel tired all day at work,” Tom said scratching just above his right sideburn, a frequent habit of his during a state of irritation or trying to solve a problem.

Bea decided she would sleep on the couch in the living room so she would be near the door to open it and determine what was causing the ringing the next time it happened. She had Tom's old baseball bat with her just in case. But that night the doorbell didn't ring. Nor did it ring the next night. On the third night she went back to sleeping in their bedroom. She had trouble falling asleep. Tom was snoring loudly and she kept anticipating hearing the ring of the doorbell. She counted even numbers backwards from one thousand. She felt she had just gone to sleep when it rang. She flung the covers off, picked up the bat and ran to the door, tossing it open. No one was there. She stepped out onto the porch and looked up and down the silent, dark street. Nothing.

The doorbell began ringing during the day, while Tom was at work. It happened five times in one day. Bea's nerves were frazzled. Tom said she looked pale.

“Maybe we should move?” he thought aloud.

Bea pressed her fingers to her temples. “No,” she said softly. And then, “Tom, what if it's something otherworldly?”

“What do you mean?” he asked not liking where this was going.

“Like a spirit or...a ghost.”

“That's ridiculous. I'm sure it's either a) malfunctioning or b) some joker playing tricks on us.”

The next day, after Tom had left for work, Bea picked up the hefty, worn yellow pages and thumbed through them until she found a listing for a psychic that sounded promising. She began to dial the number.


To Be Continued...