51. Noah #4
“Just running your store, like usual.”
He exhales, the air rattling in his chest. “You look tired.”
“Yeah, well. It’s been a long day, and I can’t sleep.”
“You couldn’t sleep as a child either.” He squeezes my hands, and his dull eyes meet mine. “Always something keeping you awake.” I can see him fading more. He tells me I’m tired, he’s more tired than I am. “Did you get that record deal you’ve been wanting?”
“Yeah, we got offered the deal.”
“Good,” he nods with a small smile. “You’ve got something there. Don’t waste it, and don’t waste your time on booze and girls. Just play music for me.”
My heart constricts as if someone wrapped their fingers around it. “I’m sorry I never finished school.” I bite my bottom lip and turn my head away. I know too many ways in which I’ve disappointed him, and I wish that wasn’t the case.
“I can’t force you to do anything.” He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing slow. “I just know when tomorrow comes, I won't be here, and I don’t wantcha to struggle in life.”
“The band isn’t gonna let that happen.”
“You know...” he shifts in the bed, so he faces me. “I liked the girl you brought home. The one with the pretty big eyes. She seemed nice. Where is she?”
My chest aches, I can feel the tears filling my eyes back up, but I'm sucking it all back in. “Yeah,” I whisper. “She’s a sweet one.” But I’m not about to tell him she has gone missing, or that we split up.
He deserves to think I’m going to be happy.
Everyone wants you to have a happy ending.
I want him to have only good thoughts when he goes.
“It’s going to be okay.” He hums softly. “You gotta stop running away.” I swallow hard, but it’s not easing the swelling in my throat starting to slowly choke me. “Life’s never gonna be easy.” I wish for just ten seconds it would be. “You’re gonna get hurt a lot.”
“I know...” My eyes dart to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.
“That’s the price of sin, we are always going to suffer in some way.
” His eyes open again, cloudy but sharp in the middle.
“You can spend your whole life trying to avoid the pain, but you’ll just miss out on everything good too.
” I stare at him, my jaw tight, trying not to lose it.
“Don’t run away anymore. Because life,” he continues, pausing for breath, “is about suffering. It’s about death.
But it’s also about the good memories, the music, the people who make the pain worth it.
Even if the bad ones outrun the good, you’ve gotta keep living anyway because before you know it, it’s over. ”
I press my lips together. “You’re not dying, Gramps.”
He chuckles weakly. “Yeah, I am. And that’s okay.”
The words split something wide open inside me.
He squeezes my hand, barely, but I feel it.
“You need to live. Really live. Make music. Be happy. Don’t hide from the world because you’re afraid to lose it.
” His breathing slows, his eyelids grow heavy again.
“If you’re not gonna get your diploma, at least do that for me. Live, just live. You hear me?”
I nod, but the tears are already burning behind my eyes. “I hear you.”
“Good.” He exhales another shaky breath. “I’m proud of you. You’re my grandson, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”
There is a light tap on the door and I see Father John stepping in with his bible, and rosary. “Hello Noah.”
“Father,” I smile for maybe two seconds before it falls off my face.
“I’m here to give him his last rites as requested.”
Gramps hand relaxes in mine and I glance over at him.
“It’s okay, Noah.” His chest rises and falls slowly.
I get off the chair as Father John comes in and begins giving him his last rites.
Letting him do confession, and giving him viaticum, his last holy communion.
My throat is tight, there is a burning behind my eyes once Father finishes and leaves.
I sit back down next to him listening to the heart monitor beeping.
He falls back asleep, the nurses coming in from time to time.
I sit there, my thumb tracing the back of his knuckles.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like that fifteen-year-old boy again, I’m too small and scared and I’m waiting for my life to turn around, but knowing that the train is heading towards me head on.
It’s not slowing down, there are no brakes.
It’s just me on the tracks, stuck there.
At some point, I drift off with my arms cradling my head as I lean on the mattress.
Exhaustion finally won. The quiet hum of the machines lulled me into half-sleep and the room turned quiet.
But the air feels wrong, it’s getting cold, and suddenly I hear a ringing in my ear, getting louder by the second, voices racing down the hallway, hollering.
I’m jolted awake with the heart monitor flatlining – a single, steady tone cuts through the silence. I stand up, staring at the screen, then at him. His face looks peaceful, like he's still sleeping, but I know he’s gone.