Behind The Glockenspiel
"I took it to the antique store and I sold it earlier today," he told her once she came into the bedroom.
There was a look of dismay on her face. "Oh… well why did you want to sell it?"
"Well, you know Maris and I bought it on our honeymoon. That's part of my past. The sentimental value just wasn't there anymore."
"Oh… well, well-done." Yet there was something in her eyes when she turned from him that made him sit up in bed.
"Daphne? Is there something you're not telling me… about the clock?"
"Don't be silly. Of course not. It was yours and Maris' clock. There is no good reason to keeping it around if it reminded you of her, now is there?"
"Absolutely not." But he sensed there was more. "Daphne, did you like that clock?"
"Well, it was a beautiful clock Niles. It was a Glockenspiel. It was nice, but I'd rather it be gone for your reasons."
"That's my girl." He got out of bed to go over and hug her. He even stole a kiss. "If you'd like, we can go buy another clock this weekend. Are you coming to bed?"
"In a minute. I want to take a shower."
"Very well my love." He climbed into bed and turned to say something, but she had just closed the bathroom door. "I know an exquisite shop across town that specializes in clocks. They have some magnificent pieces from Grandfather clocks to pocket watches. We'll make a day of it."
"That sounds great," she said from the bathroom.
"Any clock you want. Nothing's too good for my angle."
"Alright Niles."
But what he didn't know was that her voice wasn't coming from the center of the bathroom. No. Instead, it was coming from just the other side of the door where Daphne began leaning on it. She slid to the floor and sat there with her knees up. The tears were at bay. "It was just a dumb old clock," she whispered to herself.
"Daphne, I'm tired."
"Alright." She picked herself up off of the floor and started the shower. It was Niles' way of telling her that he would like her to hurry in the bathroom. He loved falling asleep with her by his side. He loved her resting her head on his chest, but most nights they fell asleep holding each other's hands. It was tradition with them. She loved how much they were in love. She looked into the mirror and wiped away a tear. She loved that man. He was so loving and full of passion. They were lucky together and there would never be a moment where either one of them would overlook it. They were blessed. The tears started back. She asked herself why she was crying. It was just a clock. She disrobed and stepped into the shower where the tears were washed away and any new ones could not be determined. She looked down at the drain as if that is where her tears would completely be wash away to.
[ 1901 11:31]
The doorbell rang. Martin hobbled out of the kitchen and when over to answer it. "Hey Niles, ya just missed Daph by a few minutes. Come on in."
"Right, the stretching exercises," he acknowledged as she entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. "Frasier left for work?"
"Yeah," he said on the way to the kitchen. "Hey, I was just about to make a sandwich. Care to join me? Frasier bought a whole bunch of cold cuts from the butcher. Maybe you can help me determine what is what. God forbid I eat some of his expensive bison or whatever the hell he buys."
"No Dad, thank you, no. I came to talk to you."
"Oh really? What about? Come on in the kitchen while I build one of those Dagwood sandwiches, the kind ya can barely fit into your mouth."
"Oh, alright." He followed his father into the kitchen as if tethered along by some imaginary line. "Dad…" When he reached the kitchen, he realized that he was talking to the back side of this father as he stuck his head into the refrigerator to research its content. He waited to address his father's face.
He came back up with not just a handful of butcher shop bundles, but eight of them and then he went back for the tomatoes, Lettice, mustard, mayonnaise, pickles, ranch dressing and even from precooked bacon. "What's on your mind son?"
"Funny you should say that, because 'Alka-Seltzer' comes to mind."
Martin's head went back into the refrigerator. "Ah damn. We're outta relish."
"Dad, you already have pickles and they're the long sandwich sliced kind you enjoy so."
"Niles, how many times I gotta tell ya. Pickles are just not the same as relish."
"They are so. If you would like, I can dice up your pickles and you can enjoy the richness of you insanity."
"You get a different bite with each and people say that they taste the same, but they really don't."
"If you dice an onion, you can call it tortellini, but it's still onion."
"If I had some relish, I could give you a side-by-side sampling."
"Oh for God's sakes Dad, I'm not going to be sampling any…" He took a deep breath. "Dad, I didn't come her to argue about the contents of your sandwich. I need to talk to you about Daphne."
Now he had Martin's full attention. "Oh, what is it Niles?"
"How was she when she was here? Did she act a little different?"
"Different? What do ya mean?"
"Well, did she mention a clock of Glockenspiel?"
"Uh-uh. Oh damn."
"What is it?"
"I've asked Frasier a million times to get me some yellow mustard. Look what he brings home, Grey Poupon. I just want some French's yellow mustard. How can you mess that up?"
"Dad!"
"I'm sorry son. No, she didn't say anything to me. She did seem a little preoccupied."
"Preoccupied? How so?"
"She's usually very talkative, but not today. Hey, shouldn't you be going to the source? Why don't you ask her what's on her mind?"
"Oh, I've tried that last night and this morning. I knew she was coming over this morning, so I thought you might have an insight."
"What's this all about?" he asked as he piled on the meat.
"Good heavens Dad, why did Frasier buy all this meat?"
"Ah, we got into a little riff. I told him that there was never anything to eat in this house, so, you know your bother, he always over-exaggerates. You want some of this?"
"Thank you, no. Daphne took the Glockenspiel from storage. It was the one Maris and I bought in Zurich while on our honeymoon. Well, I sold it and now Daphne seems… well bothered by it."
"Did you ask her why?"
"Yes, many times this morning at breakfast. She keeps refusing to confide in me."
"Maybe it's none of your damn business."
"Excuse me."
"Maybe she has her reasons. It was a big part of your history with Maris so of course she wanted you to do with it what you wanted. Her opinion would seem trivial to your reasons."
Niles smiled. "That's preposterous Daphne would have just told me and we would have both understood and respected each other's actions and feelings."
"Ah, that's what you do for a living though, isn't it?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" He took a defensive tone.
"You psychiatrists do you poking and prodding to find the answers even if they're not meant to be found."
"It's best to get things out in the open rather than bottling them up."
"Blah-blah-blah. I've heard it all before. I live with Frasier, remember? Listen to your old man, I know this is going to be eating away at you and you will have to get to the bottom of this for your sake, but for God's sake, take it easy on Daphne. She's your wife not a patient. She's not a mystery to solve."
Niles dropped his head like he was a ten year old who had just been scolded. "Yes-sir. I know."
Martin smiled. "A mystery to solve. To boldly go where no man has gone before."
"Yes, trying to figure out women," he joked with his father.
"I tell you the one about the man on a deserted island who found a Jeanie bottle?"
"No."
"He'd been stranded for years. He found this bottle and opened it. This Jeanie appears and offers to grant him a wish. The man says, 'I've been stranded here for years. Build me a bridge to Hawaii.' The Jeanie says, 'A bridge of such size would take a lot of strength and magic. It could topple over on me if it were to collapse. How about a different wish?' The man says, 'Well, I've been married several times. How about explaining women to me?' The Jeanie replies, 'Would you like that bridge one lane or two?'" Martin laughed out loud.
And they laughed together.