Passing.
John Henry Wilton hit the glass door with his shoulder, barging it open by brute force and almost running through the doorway into the room beyond. Water pouring down his coat in rivulets, splashing on the tiled floor and leaving a trail of little puddles behind him.
The door slowly closed behind him, the pistons making a tiny hiss almost lost in the sound of the storm outside . John stopped walking and grabbed the sides of his overcoat where it was unbuttoned and shook it. The coat flapped like a frantic bird and water splashed onto the tiles beneath him while droplets were thrown around him like a rain shower.
Ignoring the disapproving look of a nurse he paused then decided the coat was as dry as he was going to get it.
“That was rude John. I thought the nurse was going to tell you off.”
“Tough, it’s bloody pouring out there. Besides its just water, they must have a mop somewhere.” He paused for a second, then spoke again but almost hesitantly. “Did you get a room number, do you know where he is?”
Elizabeth Sandra Tyler Wilton nodded. Younger by ten minutes she had the same fair hair as her older brother though her blue eyes were more like the summer sky than his steel. “Second floor, the doctor’s waiting for us.” She looked at her brother’s face for a second, searching for the look she was waiting for and fearing. “He said to hurry.”
John had picked her up half an hour ago, just as the storm was starting. They had both received the phone call, come at once the nurse had said. Her brother had arrived minutes later, not even giving her time to change into more comfortable shoes rather than the heels she had been wearing as she prepared to go out for a posh meal with her family. She had kissed her husband and told her children to behave then hurried to her brother’s car, the drive had been made in silence, with only the rain drumming on the windows and roof. Both alone with their thoughts.
John had dropped her at the hospital door then gone to park while she spoke to the receptionist and asked where their father was, which room, how to get there.
Now she led the way, john behind her, still silent but she could feel his presence, his anger, his darkness. Up the stairs, along a corridor, through the double doors, another corridor, endless off white walls, the smell of chemicals and pain fading as they became used to it. More stairs and one last corridor then the same doctor they had spoken to on previous visits, waiting for them, a door open beside him.
John reached the doorway and stepped into the room without hesitating but the set of his shoulders told his sister how tense he was. He was here because it was a duty, he was keeping the pain bottled up, had been since they had met in the waiting room of the emergency room when their father had first collapsed three weeks ago. She had seen his face then, she had seen the pain and the sorrow as they looked at their father, pale, wasting away from within as the cancer he had hidden from his children destroyed him. She had seen her brothers pain then and never since.
John strode into the room, half wishing he had worn boots so he could stomp. The old man in the bed wasn’t his father, this shrunken stick figure wasn’t the tall vital man that had bought them up. This wasn’t the strong energetic man that would greet them every Christmas and lead them at such a pace when they took the dogs for the boxing day walk. This wasn’t his father; this was a dying old man, not his father. Never his father. He stopped by the bed, his sister came up beside him, the doctor stopping a pace away.
John glanced at the figure in the bed then turned away and stared out the window, blinking away the sudden wetness in his eyes. The black clouds, the rumble of the storm and the rain drumming on the window perfectly matching his mood.
“I miss you.”
The words were quiet, barely loud enough to be heard over the medical machines with their constant beep and ping. The old man was holding his head up off the pillow a little, looking up at empty space, staring at the roof across the room, not looking at anything.
“We’re here dad, John and I are here.”She reached out to touch his shoulder, hesitated then let her hand rest on him. He gave no sign of noticing and a few seconds later she took her small hand back, silently shocked by the wasted flesh and bones she had felt.
The old man spoke again.
“Such a wonderful day, the sun, so warm.”
His voice was strained, low, barely more than a whisper. The sound tore at John, as faint as it was, it was still his father’s voice but it shouldn’t be, it was the sound of his father, not the man in the bed. His father was gone, had been gone since the day weeks ago when the phone call came to say his father had collapsed and that the MRI had revealed how advanced the cancer was. His father had died and gone and been replaced with this frail, sick old man. His dad was gone but the voice lingered.
John had turned at the sound of the voice then glanced back at the window, the rain was still hammered down outside. He looked at the doctor, about to ask a question, then he fell silent as his father spoke again.
“Why did you leave me alone?”
The voice was even quieter but they heard it. “We didn’t leave you alone dad, we’re here.” Elizabeth spoke but she didn’t reach out to touch her father, not this time. John said nothing, his face tight, his hands clenched into fists, his fingernails cutting half moons into his palms.
On the bed their father lifted his right hand, the arm trembling from the effort, his fingers shaking and bent like a claw, The old man’s face told of how difficult it was to do even something so simple. Then his fingers curled round until they almost touched his palm, the shaking stopped and his face changed, a faint smile touched his lips and the tightness around his eyes relaxed a little.
“Did you walk the dogs today, they need a good walk.”
Martin controlled himself with effort and whatever he had been about to say became no more than a formless sound. He after a few seconds he had regained his composure and spoke. “The dogs, died over a year ago, he never bought any more, said they reminded him of, of mum. What is he, what does he mean?”
The doctor put on his best elderly doctor face. “The cancer and the pain medication are affecting him, he doesn’t know where he is, he’s probably remembering events form the past. I’m sorry, in his mind he’s not here anymore.”
“My father was never here, he never reached this hospital.” John spoke quietly but the anger of his words carried them across the room, the doctor turned away and pretended to look at the computer display then he stepped to the door way and called for the nurse who was waiting outside to come in.
Elizabeth reached out to touch her brother’s arm then stopped with her hand inches from the sleeve of his coat, he didn’t notice and reluctantly she pulled her arm back. She knew he would be like this but that didn’t make it any the less painful to see.
The sound in the room changed, the steady beeping became faster then slowed, lines on a display flattened out.
The old man dropped his head back on the pillow, too weak now to hold it up, a sigh came from his lips, his breath leaving him. His eyes of steel blue faded and rolled up and the scream of a siren filled the room. The nurse reached across and pressed a button and shocking silence filled the room for the first time since he had been admitted.
The doctor stepped closer to the son and daughter. “My condolences, do you want to stay here a little longer, say your goodbyes?”
John’s head snapped round, suddenly angry though he didn’t know why. “No, I said my goodbyes when he died, this, this wasn’t my father.” John pushed his way past the doctor and out of the room into the corridor then turned and walked along it, not heading anywhere in particular, just heading away from the room and the death of some old man.
Elizabeth tried to catch his arm as he walked past her but she couldn’t hold him, so she turned to the doctor. “I’m sorry doctor, he was very close to our father, it’s just, it’s...”
“He’s taking it hard, no need to apologise. I can leave you alone for a few minutes if you want.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I better catch up with John. What do we need to do now?”
The doctor placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her his best fatherly smile. “Nothing today, the hospital will be in touch about the paperwork and the funeral arrangements but for now go and find your brother.”
She nodded her thanks and walked out into the corridor, her heels sharp on the tiles, looking for her wayward brother. She didn’t look back. Her father was gone, there was no need.
#
Martin was in a strange bed, in a strange room. He couldn’t remember how he came to be here or even where here was, there were walls around him but they were blurred, nothing but off white shapes. He had tried to sleep but something was making noise, he wanted silence to think but all he could hear was something beeping nearby.
Several times he though he heard voices but there was never anyone there. He tried to look but he was so tired, he could barely lift his head or move in the bed. Why was he so tired, he had things to do. The fence at the bottom of the garden needed repairing; he was going to put in a new panel.
Why was he so tired?
Then something moved beside him and he rolled his head to look, lifting his head off the pillow by sheer will as his neck muscles struggled.
Someone was standing there, a woman, no a girl, a beautiful girl, light red hair, a thin cotton dress that hung to her knees but left her freckled shoulders bare. Eyes like pools of blue he could swim in, eyes he had woken to every day for so many years, such a wonder life they had had together.
“I miss you.”
Martin was looking up at her face as she stood beside him. She was so beautiful, the chase of freckles either side of that elfin nose of hers. She was wearing the same blue summer dress she had been wearing the first day they had met, at the park across from the university campus where the students went during the summer to study or relax.
What a day that had been, he was deep in his books and had looked up when a shadow fell across him, a delightful voice asking for a drink of water from his bottle. Instead of answering he had stammered, his voice lost in the blue of her eyes. She was wearing the same dress as on that fateful day.
She noticed his look and swayed her hips, the light cotton swinging back and forth above her knees then she spoke. Her voice was like a memory, how long had it been since he last heard it, how many years since they had been parted. Fifty years of marriage and then a fall on ice, a shattered hip and she was gone, so sudden. How often now did he hear that voice only in his dreams. “I wore this when we first met, do you remember?”
“Such a wonderful day, the sun, so warm.”
She nodded, her smile like the sun breaking through the clouds. “I remember, I was thirsty so I asked a handsome man for a drink of his water.”
“Why did you leave me alone?”
For a second her smile faded and sorrow filled her eyes. She reached toward him, her hand open, waiting.
“I’m here now love, I’m here.”
Martin lifted his right hand, the arm trembling from the effort, his fingers shaking and curved like a claw, his face told of how difficult it was to do even something so simple. Then his fingers touched those of his wife, curled round until her tiny hand was engulfed in his big fist, she smiled and held his hand tight, her strength steadied him, suddenly it was no effort to hold his arm up and he relaxed a little.
“Did you walk the dogs today, they need a good walk.”
“Not yet. I thought we could take them for a long walk this afternoon, across the park.”
Martin tried to nod but the effort was too much, still he could manage a smile. A good long walk, holding hands with his wife , the dogs running around them, chasing each other and sniffing for the squirrels in the trees. That sounded wonderful, just like they used to.
Martin dropped his head back on the pillow, too weak now to hold it up, he sighed. Then he sat up and swung his legs to the side, over the edge of the bed so his feet touched the floor. He looked around the room, the walls still a blur of off white around him, the sound of the machines finally silent.
Then his gaze fell upon the laughing face of his wife, beautiful as the day they had met. She reached out a hand and he took it, she pulled then groaned at how heavy he was. He stood suddenly and dragged her toward him, crushing her to the tee shirt that covered the muscles of his chest as she laughed.
Outside the day was bright, birds were singing, the dogs were barking, it was a wonderful day for a walk.
John Henry Wilton hit the glass door with his shoulder, barging it open by brute force and almost running through the doorway into the room beyond. Water pouring down his coat in rivulets, splashing on the tiled floor and leaving a trail of little puddles behind him.
The door slowly closed behind him, the pistons making a tiny hiss almost lost in the sound of the storm outside . John stopped walking and grabbed the sides of his overcoat where it was unbuttoned and shook it. The coat flapped like a frantic bird and water splashed onto the tiles beneath him while droplets were thrown around him like a rain shower.
Ignoring the disapproving look of a nurse he paused then decided the coat was as dry as he was going to get it.
“That was rude John. I thought the nurse was going to tell you off.”
“Tough, it’s bloody pouring out there. Besides its just water, they must have a mop somewhere.” He paused for a second, then spoke again but almost hesitantly. “Did you get a room number, do you know where he is?”
Elizabeth Sandra Tyler Wilton nodded. Younger by ten minutes she had the same fair hair as her older brother though her blue eyes were more like the summer sky than his steel. “Second floor, the doctor’s waiting for us.” She looked at her brother’s face for a second, searching for the look she was waiting for and fearing. “He said to hurry.”
John had picked her up half an hour ago, just as the storm was starting. They had both received the phone call, come at once the nurse had said. Her brother had arrived minutes later, not even giving her time to change into more comfortable shoes rather than the heels she had been wearing as she prepared to go out for a posh meal with her family. She had kissed her husband and told her children to behave then hurried to her brother’s car, the drive had been made in silence, with only the rain drumming on the windows and roof. Both alone with their thoughts.
John had dropped her at the hospital door then gone to park while she spoke to the receptionist and asked where their father was, which room, how to get there.
Now she led the way, john behind her, still silent but she could feel his presence, his anger, his darkness. Up the stairs, along a corridor, through the double doors, another corridor, endless off white walls, the smell of chemicals and pain fading as they became used to it. More stairs and one last corridor then the same doctor they had spoken to on previous visits, waiting for them, a door open beside him.
John reached the doorway and stepped into the room without hesitating but the set of his shoulders told his sister how tense he was. He was here because it was a duty, he was keeping the pain bottled up, had been since they had met in the waiting room of the emergency room when their father had first collapsed three weeks ago. She had seen his face then, she had seen the pain and the sorrow as they looked at their father, pale, wasting away from within as the cancer he had hidden from his children destroyed him. She had seen her brothers pain then and never since.
John strode into the room, half wishing he had worn boots so he could stomp. The old man in the bed wasn’t his father, this shrunken stick figure wasn’t the tall vital man that had bought them up. This wasn’t the strong energetic man that would greet them every Christmas and lead them at such a pace when they took the dogs for the boxing day walk. This wasn’t his father; this was a dying old man, not his father. Never his father. He stopped by the bed, his sister came up beside him, the doctor stopping a pace away.
John glanced at the figure in the bed then turned away and stared out the window, blinking away the sudden wetness in his eyes. The black clouds, the rumble of the storm and the rain drumming on the window perfectly matching his mood.
“I miss you.”
The words were quiet, barely loud enough to be heard over the medical machines with their constant beep and ping. The old man was holding his head up off the pillow a little, looking up at empty space, staring at the roof across the room, not looking at anything.
“We’re here dad, John and I are here.”She reached out to touch his shoulder, hesitated then let her hand rest on him. He gave no sign of noticing and a few seconds later she took her small hand back, silently shocked by the wasted flesh and bones she had felt.
The old man spoke again.
“Such a wonderful day, the sun, so warm.”
His voice was strained, low, barely more than a whisper. The sound tore at John, as faint as it was, it was still his father’s voice but it shouldn’t be, it was the sound of his father, not the man in the bed. His father was gone, had been gone since the day weeks ago when the phone call came to say his father had collapsed and that the MRI had revealed how advanced the cancer was. His father had died and gone and been replaced with this frail, sick old man. His dad was gone but the voice lingered.
John had turned at the sound of the voice then glanced back at the window, the rain was still hammered down outside. He looked at the doctor, about to ask a question, then he fell silent as his father spoke again.
“Why did you leave me alone?”
The voice was even quieter but they heard it. “We didn’t leave you alone dad, we’re here.” Elizabeth spoke but she didn’t reach out to touch her father, not this time. John said nothing, his face tight, his hands clenched into fists, his fingernails cutting half moons into his palms.
On the bed their father lifted his right hand, the arm trembling from the effort, his fingers shaking and bent like a claw, The old man’s face told of how difficult it was to do even something so simple. Then his fingers curled round until they almost touched his palm, the shaking stopped and his face changed, a faint smile touched his lips and the tightness around his eyes relaxed a little.
“Did you walk the dogs today, they need a good walk.”
Martin controlled himself with effort and whatever he had been about to say became no more than a formless sound. He after a few seconds he had regained his composure and spoke. “The dogs, died over a year ago, he never bought any more, said they reminded him of, of mum. What is he, what does he mean?”
The doctor put on his best elderly doctor face. “The cancer and the pain medication are affecting him, he doesn’t know where he is, he’s probably remembering events form the past. I’m sorry, in his mind he’s not here anymore.”
“My father was never here, he never reached this hospital.” John spoke quietly but the anger of his words carried them across the room, the doctor turned away and pretended to look at the computer display then he stepped to the door way and called for the nurse who was waiting outside to come in.
Elizabeth reached out to touch her brother’s arm then stopped with her hand inches from the sleeve of his coat, he didn’t notice and reluctantly she pulled her arm back. She knew he would be like this but that didn’t make it any the less painful to see.
The sound in the room changed, the steady beeping became faster then slowed, lines on a display flattened out.
The old man dropped his head back on the pillow, too weak now to hold it up, a sigh came from his lips, his breath leaving him. His eyes of steel blue faded and rolled up and the scream of a siren filled the room. The nurse reached across and pressed a button and shocking silence filled the room for the first time since he had been admitted.
The doctor stepped closer to the son and daughter. “My condolences, do you want to stay here a little longer, say your goodbyes?”
John’s head snapped round, suddenly angry though he didn’t know why. “No, I said my goodbyes when he died, this, this wasn’t my father.” John pushed his way past the doctor and out of the room into the corridor then turned and walked along it, not heading anywhere in particular, just heading away from the room and the death of some old man.
Elizabeth tried to catch his arm as he walked past her but she couldn’t hold him, so she turned to the doctor. “I’m sorry doctor, he was very close to our father, it’s just, it’s...”
“He’s taking it hard, no need to apologise. I can leave you alone for a few minutes if you want.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I better catch up with John. What do we need to do now?”
The doctor placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her his best fatherly smile. “Nothing today, the hospital will be in touch about the paperwork and the funeral arrangements but for now go and find your brother.”
She nodded her thanks and walked out into the corridor, her heels sharp on the tiles, looking for her wayward brother. She didn’t look back. Her father was gone, there was no need.
#
Martin was in a strange bed, in a strange room. He couldn’t remember how he came to be here or even where here was, there were walls around him but they were blurred, nothing but off white shapes. He had tried to sleep but something was making noise, he wanted silence to think but all he could hear was something beeping nearby.
Several times he though he heard voices but there was never anyone there. He tried to look but he was so tired, he could barely lift his head or move in the bed. Why was he so tired, he had things to do. The fence at the bottom of the garden needed repairing; he was going to put in a new panel.
Why was he so tired?
Then something moved beside him and he rolled his head to look, lifting his head off the pillow by sheer will as his neck muscles struggled.
Someone was standing there, a woman, no a girl, a beautiful girl, light red hair, a thin cotton dress that hung to her knees but left her freckled shoulders bare. Eyes like pools of blue he could swim in, eyes he had woken to every day for so many years, such a wonder life they had had together.
“I miss you.”
Martin was looking up at her face as she stood beside him. She was so beautiful, the chase of freckles either side of that elfin nose of hers. She was wearing the same blue summer dress she had been wearing the first day they had met, at the park across from the university campus where the students went during the summer to study or relax.
What a day that had been, he was deep in his books and had looked up when a shadow fell across him, a delightful voice asking for a drink of water from his bottle. Instead of answering he had stammered, his voice lost in the blue of her eyes. She was wearing the same dress as on that fateful day.
She noticed his look and swayed her hips, the light cotton swinging back and forth above her knees then she spoke. Her voice was like a memory, how long had it been since he last heard it, how many years since they had been parted. Fifty years of marriage and then a fall on ice, a shattered hip and she was gone, so sudden. How often now did he hear that voice only in his dreams. “I wore this when we first met, do you remember?”
“Such a wonderful day, the sun, so warm.”
She nodded, her smile like the sun breaking through the clouds. “I remember, I was thirsty so I asked a handsome man for a drink of his water.”
“Why did you leave me alone?”
For a second her smile faded and sorrow filled her eyes. She reached toward him, her hand open, waiting.
“I’m here now love, I’m here.”
Martin lifted his right hand, the arm trembling from the effort, his fingers shaking and curved like a claw, his face told of how difficult it was to do even something so simple. Then his fingers touched those of his wife, curled round until her tiny hand was engulfed in his big fist, she smiled and held his hand tight, her strength steadied him, suddenly it was no effort to hold his arm up and he relaxed a little.
“Did you walk the dogs today, they need a good walk.”
“Not yet. I thought we could take them for a long walk this afternoon, across the park.”
Martin tried to nod but the effort was too much, still he could manage a smile. A good long walk, holding hands with his wife , the dogs running around them, chasing each other and sniffing for the squirrels in the trees. That sounded wonderful, just like they used to.
Martin dropped his head back on the pillow, too weak now to hold it up, he sighed. Then he sat up and swung his legs to the side, over the edge of the bed so his feet touched the floor. He looked around the room, the walls still a blur of off white around him, the sound of the machines finally silent.
Then his gaze fell upon the laughing face of his wife, beautiful as the day they had met. She reached out a hand and he took it, she pulled then groaned at how heavy he was. He stood suddenly and dragged her toward him, crushing her to the tee shirt that covered the muscles of his chest as she laughed.
Outside the day was bright, birds were singing, the dogs were barking, it was a wonderful day for a walk.