The horn
There was a horn at the top of the borough building that blared during times of trouble. It used to serve as a harbinger of noon as well, but that ritual must have stopped sometime during the 80s or 90s, she wasn’t sure when. Or why. All she knew was that the horn had gone off every day at twelve before she left Delphi, and now it no longer did. She had never thought to ask anyone about it.
One morning, soon after she had moved back to Delphi, she had been at a yoga class in the basement of a church not far from the borough building when the horn had gone off. It about scared the bejesus out of the poor instructor, who did not live in Delphi, and Kaitlin wasn’t sure why it hadn’t given some of the older ladies in the class heart palpitations or strokes. That blaring always unnerved her, and when it caught her off guard, late at night or when she was near the horn, it made her heart pound and her adrenalin rush. Like she herself was suddenly in the midst of an emergency and needed to fight or flee.
Kaitlin said something empathetic and amusing to the poor yoga instructor, who seemed to have totally lost her peaceful aura, when one of the older women in the class sat up and castigated her. “That horn is part of Delphi!” she opined. “I love it! I can’t imagine Delphi without it.” Kaitlin and the yoga instructor had stared at the woman, speechless. Was she joking? Senile? Off her meds? Another elderly, arthritic yoga student nodded her head. She said she found the sound of the horn “traditional” and “reassuring,” that it reminded her of Cape Cod.
Kaitlin had never been to Cape Cod, and she didn’t like arguing with people, especially about stupid shit like a horn, so she just smiled and rolled up her yoga mat. In her head, though, she was thinking: these women are nutso! The sound of that horn was excruciating.
The horn served as an alarm for fires and times of trouble. Not long after the horn blared, you would hear the wailing of police and fire sirens as they headed off towards the place of need. She knew that the number of times the horn blared meant something; it was either a code for the location of the emergency or else for how serious it was. She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t understand why in this day and age of pagers and cell phones Delphi’s first responders would need to have such a horrendous horn blaring in the center of town. It seemed pretty ludicrous to her. The horn was clearly an anachronism. And there was nothing quaint about it. She didn’t care what they did up in Cape Cod.
She wasn’t sure how the people who lived within a block or so of the borough building could stand it. The horn could go off any time, day or night, without warning. And that sound! It gave her migraines.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Kaitlin got lots of migraines, and when that goddamned horn went off when she was having one, it was excruciating. The sound of it, blaring again and again, made her feel nauseous. And she knew that this upset Rad. He was young enough where he thought he should still be able to fix things and when he couldn’t, he got upset. It distressed him when she got headaches, because nothing he did ever seemed to help. He would bring her water or her medication or even a cup of tea. He would darken her blinds for her and answer the phone on the first ring, screening all of her calls. Sometimes he would want to sit with her, but usually she just wanted to be alone. She realized this might seem hurtful to him, but she also knew how much it bothered him to see her in pain. And she wanted to spare him that. If only they would do away with that goddamned horn! She had said that in agony on more than one occasion.
When they had first moved back to Delphi, Rad would run outside onto the porch and yell “Stop! Stop!” in the direction of the horn. If she hadn’t been in so much pain at the time, she might have smiled. But, really, he was only expressing her very thoughts: Stop! Stop! Make it all just go away!
One morning, soon after she had moved back to Delphi, she had been at a yoga class in the basement of a church not far from the borough building when the horn had gone off. It about scared the bejesus out of the poor instructor, who did not live in Delphi, and Kaitlin wasn’t sure why it hadn’t given some of the older ladies in the class heart palpitations or strokes. That blaring always unnerved her, and when it caught her off guard, late at night or when she was near the horn, it made her heart pound and her adrenalin rush. Like she herself was suddenly in the midst of an emergency and needed to fight or flee.
Kaitlin said something empathetic and amusing to the poor yoga instructor, who seemed to have totally lost her peaceful aura, when one of the older women in the class sat up and castigated her. “That horn is part of Delphi!” she opined. “I love it! I can’t imagine Delphi without it.” Kaitlin and the yoga instructor had stared at the woman, speechless. Was she joking? Senile? Off her meds? Another elderly, arthritic yoga student nodded her head. She said she found the sound of the horn “traditional” and “reassuring,” that it reminded her of Cape Cod.
Kaitlin had never been to Cape Cod, and she didn’t like arguing with people, especially about stupid shit like a horn, so she just smiled and rolled up her yoga mat. In her head, though, she was thinking: these women are nutso! The sound of that horn was excruciating.
The horn served as an alarm for fires and times of trouble. Not long after the horn blared, you would hear the wailing of police and fire sirens as they headed off towards the place of need. She knew that the number of times the horn blared meant something; it was either a code for the location of the emergency or else for how serious it was. She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t understand why in this day and age of pagers and cell phones Delphi’s first responders would need to have such a horrendous horn blaring in the center of town. It seemed pretty ludicrous to her. The horn was clearly an anachronism. And there was nothing quaint about it. She didn’t care what they did up in Cape Cod.
She wasn’t sure how the people who lived within a block or so of the borough building could stand it. The horn could go off any time, day or night, without warning. And that sound! It gave her migraines.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Kaitlin got lots of migraines, and when that goddamned horn went off when she was having one, it was excruciating. The sound of it, blaring again and again, made her feel nauseous. And she knew that this upset Rad. He was young enough where he thought he should still be able to fix things and when he couldn’t, he got upset. It distressed him when she got headaches, because nothing he did ever seemed to help. He would bring her water or her medication or even a cup of tea. He would darken her blinds for her and answer the phone on the first ring, screening all of her calls. Sometimes he would want to sit with her, but usually she just wanted to be alone. She realized this might seem hurtful to him, but she also knew how much it bothered him to see her in pain. And she wanted to spare him that. If only they would do away with that goddamned horn! She had said that in agony on more than one occasion.
When they had first moved back to Delphi, Rad would run outside onto the porch and yell “Stop! Stop!” in the direction of the horn. If she hadn’t been in so much pain at the time, she might have smiled. But, really, he was only expressing her very thoughts: Stop! Stop! Make it all just go away!
posted by delta at 5:34 PM
1 Comments:
If a horn like that went off when I had a migraine, I would probably claw my eyes out.
Post a Comment
<< Home