Pining

Fritz’s mother didn’t think that names were very important. That is why she named him Fritz. It was the first thing that came to mind. When he met Louise, the first thing she told him was that she thought everything was important. It was a sentiment he found quite devastating and when he went home that night and sat down at the edge of his bed, he had a weird feeling that his head was getting heavier.

Over the next few weeks, Fritz and Louise started to spend more time together. They did not fall in love. It was their mutual agreement. They would mostly hang out at her place. He preferred his own home but refused to insist. They both wanted the same thing — to get along, nothing more. But every time Fritz woke up in Louise’s bed, it took slightly more effort for him to sit upright.

Fritz went to see a doctor. He was immediately dismissed, “Heads do not get heavier.”

“But all heads are different,” Fritz argued.

“Your head is the most normal head I have ever seen.”

That was not something that Fritz wanted to hear. He wanted the doctor to tell him that he was sick. It would have made more sense.

A short time later, Fritz awoke paralyzed in Louise’s bed. He could move his arms and legs, but his head was so heavy that he could feel the box spring flat against the back of his neck.

“Louise!” He didn’t want to seem needy, but he had no other choice. She had never heard Fritz express alarm, and she didn’t hesitate to come to his aid. She did not love him, and as a result, he hated making her feel responsible. But as long as it was only in small doses, she didn’t mind.

“I can’t move.”

“Why not?”

“Because of my head.”

“What’s wrong with your head?”

“I have no idea.”

Louise stood over Fritz and carefully examined his pupils. After a moment, she laughed, “I forgot this happens sometimes.”

Fritz was relieved. Whenever she treated something as normal, it came to be that way. It could have been a beehive in the oven. Or a knife in her back. Or shit on the rug. As long as she didn’t wince or panic, everything was okay.

“What happens?”

“Is your head too heavy?”

“Yea.”

“Why didn’t you say something?!”

“I thought I was going crazy.”

“I’m sorry. I should have warned you, but sometimes it skips a guy.”

Louise wasn’t to blame. Ever since she started sleeping with men, she found that, from time to time, this would happen. It had nothing to do with the man afflicted, with his emotional strength, or health, or status. It was indiscriminate.

“Is it a curse?” Fritz immediately regretted his phrasing. She hovered over him, tempted to walk away, but understood that sometimes people ask the wrong questions. After all, no question is ever fully considered before it is asked.

“Let me help you.” She sat down by Fritz’s side and put her cold palms on each of his cheeks. Then, without warning, she dug each of her thumbs into the bottom of his eye sockets, slowly massaging the space above his cheekbones. It felt good. Tears streamed down Fritz’s face, so many tears that they dripped into his nose and slid down his throat and moistened his lips. He had never tasted tears before. Sure he had cried as most people do, but this was his first time sobbing. He did not wail though. He was able to remain silent.

When Louise stepped away, Fritz was able to sit upright with ease. Like he did before he met her. She picked up his T-shirt from the floor, methodically wiped her hands dry, and returned to the kitchen.

And while Fritz was relieved, he was disturbed by the pattern into which he had fallen. He would have preferred his heavyhead to be incurable. He wanted it to be his own.

At the moment after Fritz woke up paralyzed, before he called for Louise, he imagined that he was laid there forever. Louise would summon doctors and seek out specialists. She would reinforce the mattress to make sure his head didn’t fall through the floor. She would get home early to feed him and change his bedpan.

It was just one moment among the many that Fritz endured with Louise, but soon he would forget the others. It was the only one that mattered.