Image source
Aariv who was briefly asleep on an armchair sat up fast as a woman in blue scrubs and a man in a white coat strolled in. The fussers. He thought. Always fussing over his dearest grandfather, fondly called Dada.
Dada was asleep but looked so tired and small in the big hospital bed with his mouth open as he breathed noisily. There were many IVs hooked into his arms and some beeping monitors beside the bed.
"Is he going to be alright?" Aariv whispered the same question he asked every hospital staff that came into the room. The doctor ignored the ten year old boy, pulled out a small tablet and stylus from his pocket, scribbled something down and left the room.
The woman in blue scrubs fluffed Dada's pillow and adjusted his bed cover to make the old man comfortable. She checked his IVs once more and turned to look at Aariv, her lips thinned with displeasure.
"This is not a place for you, boy. I've told your mother so but she insists you want to stay, yes?"
"Yes, please," Aariv replied, his eyes on his Dada. "I'll stay."
He and his grandfather were the best of pals. Aariv saw Dada as his confidant and advisor, a relationship he was unable to replicate with his father who was always busy at work.
Dada was there for him when he returned from school with busted lips and taught him basic self-defence moves against his bullies. He played football with him every weekend and taught him how to fix things in the house. "So you can be helpful to your mother," Dada said.
Now, Dada was fading away fast before his eyes and he was helpless to stop it. Just then Dada opened his eyes and frowned for a second before glancing in Aariv's direction. His eyes brightened.
"Hey, Dada. You want some water?"
"No, I'm okay, Aariv. You've been here the whole time?"
Aariv rolled his eyes and checked his wrist though he wore no watch. "You slept for an hour, five minutes and fifty-six seconds. That's not long."
Dada chuckled and ended up with a harsh cough. "Cheeky boy. So how are you?" He asked, his voice hoarse.
Aariv drew his seat closer to the bed. "I have an idea," he whispered like he was about to divulge a big secret. Dada nodded. "I don't want you to leave me. Ever…"
"Oh, Aariv. You mustn't think of things like that."
"But I must, sir. You taught me to look beyond today and plan for my tomorrow. So that's what I'm doing - planning."
"Okay. What's this plan you have?"
Aariv scratched his nose, a tell whenever he was nervous. His Dada smiled and patted his hand on the bed, encouraging him to speak.
"I don't want you to leave me, Dada. So I think you and I can share my body. You know?"
Dada was astounded for a moment at such a suggestion. "What do you mean, Aariv?"
"Faateh told me in school that his Dada lives inside him. So I want the same. This way you and I will be together forever. You get it?"
Dada nodded again. "Of course I get it, Aariv and I want the same too…"
"That's great."
"Hold your horses, Aariv. Did you ask Faateh how he and his Dada did this thing you suggest?"
Aariv was quiet for a moment realising his mistake. Dada taught him to always think two or three steps ahead and in this case, he didn't or he would have asked Faateh the relevant question. He met his Dada's eyes solemnly. "I can ask him tomorrow in school."
Dada patted the space beside him. Aariv took off his shoes and hurriedly climbed into bed and laid his head on Dada's shoulder.
"You know I would not lie to you, right?"
"Yes, Dada."
"What Faateh meant when he told you that his grandfather lives inside him is that his memories are alive in him. The two of them can't inhabit one body. Okay?"
"Yes, Dada. I get it. I want your memories to be alive in me when you leave finally. I'll miss you very much." Aariv whispered and Dada held him tightly to himself.
"And I will miss you too but remember, I'll be thinking of you fondly and hope you do the same."
"I will, Dada. I promise."
A few days later, Aariv read the epitaph his mother inscribed on Dada's gravestone out loud to himself.
Hold onto your fond memories,
They make you unique -
Lighting your path,
Keeping you warm,
Blazing your hope,
In this earthly journey.
They make life worth living.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short story. It is my response to The Ink Well November 2022 Contest inspired by the prompt "leave".