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B
enjamin stood outside his grandfather’s room for a few seconds. He checked himself one last time and then gave the door a soft tap before he stepped in. Old memories of sneaking into his grandpa’s room as a kid instantly hit him; his world, as he’d always called it. The room always had a certain distinct smell, even now; old books, whiskey, the faint aroma of cigars.
Back then, he’d run around the big house all on his own, playing hide and seek with the workers; of course the staff never came to find him. There were many fascinating places in the enormous mansion, but his grandpa’s room had always been the main point of attraction—a cave of wonders.
The door clicked shut as he stepped in and he stood for a few more seconds. He’d expected to start hearing sad music in his head as he dramatically approached his dying, bed-ridden grandfather who’d probably have some last words of advice for him, but that wasn’t the case. The old man was sitting at his desk, his black glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scribbled away and mumbled something to himself.
He’s delusional and talking to himself, Benjamin thought as he approached him, but then he saw the phone placed on the desk, right next to the journal his grandfather was steadily writing in.
“We'll have to talk about that tomorrow,” his grandfather said and for a moment Ben thought he was the recipient of that message, until he heard the deep voice cackle over the speakerphone: "That's fine, Elijah. Goodnight."
“It’s about time you showed up, Benjamin,” Elijah scolded him without looking up, like some all-knowing wise man.
“Was that Walter?”
That voice was hard to miss, his grandfather's lawyer. That made the gears in his head turn as he wondered why his grandfather had been on the phone with his old-time lawyer. There was no time to finish deciphering the mystery, however, because his grandfather had turned to face him now, his tired eyes fixed straight ahead on his grandson. For the first time, Ben could now see how pale and sickly he was.How did I not notice the wheelchair?
“Grandpa,” he said taking his cold but strong hand. They never hugged. Nobody in this family ever did, except for his mother who had that fake way of embracing people for hellos and good-byes.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better, Benjamin. Just a little pain here and there, but the medications they put me on are working rather well. And of course, there is the fact that I only have a few more weeks to live.”
He dropped that like a bomb; a bomb that made Ben’s eyes feel hot and teary. But given how calm and composed his grandfather sounded, who was Benjamin to cry in front of him like a boy? Benjamin stiffened, got himself together.
“I’m sure there is something we can do. Fly in the best experts in the field. Experimental drugs. Voodoo magic. You name it, we’ll try it.”
His grandfather flinched, for the first time and he looked sad. He lovingly shook his head.
“I'm sick, my boy. Cancer, stage four they said. There is really nothing left to do,” he scoffed, and the wheelchair whirled as he circled back and moved over to his large window. “Well, something's got to kill a man, right?”
This was unreal. He was really dying.
Picking up a hardcover book from the floor that had fallen off the desk, Ben walked up to his grandfather.
“Ah,” his grandfather muttered with a smile, “for a moment there I thought you'd magically developed a fondness for books." He held out his hand and Benjamin dropped the book in it. Stroking the hardback and staring at it fondly, his grandfather sighed and said, “Your father always loved books, you know? He'd spend hours in this very room picking through my library.”
Benjamin nodded. He always was lost for words when he was around the great Elijah Radcliff, but he felt like he should say something. So, he did.
“Really?” It was weak, but it was something.
“You were just like him in some ways, too.” His grandfather sounded so enthusiastic; Benjamin braced himself for this journey down memory lane. He didn't have a lot of memories of his father, so it felt good to hear about how him.
“You reminded me of him so much when you were little, but then it all got lost somehow,” he mumbled out loud as if he was unaware that thought had slipped his lips. Ben tugged at his collar of his shirt but seeing his grandpa’s frown stopped and stood like aproper gentleman.
“Let’s go for a walk,” his grandfather said, almost absentmindedly.
Benjamin glanced down at the wheelchair and his grandfather laughed.
“I’m not exactly paralyzed.”
As if to prove it, the old man wobbled to his feet; Benjamin quickly handed him his fancy cane and got a nod of approval from his grandfather.
“Hand us each a cigar from that box, will you?” He winced. Should he smoke? Thatis certainly not good for his health right now.His grandfather noticed his hesitation.
“I hope you aren’t starting with acting all responsible now that I’m about to die.”
Benjamin smiled faintly and fetched the cigars.
