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he cancer was eating his grandfather from the inside, a slow flame consuming his health little by little. Most days, his grandfather would sit in his study or take a stroll around the gardens. Often, he’d have Benjamin with him as it seemed to comfort both of them.
It was the evening of the second week since the cancer revelation when Elijah called Ben into his study. Things seemed to hasten terribly when the clock was ticking, and his grandfather tried hard to move as fast as his final days allowed.
Benjamin met his grandfather’s lawyer, Walter, emerging from the study, briefcase in his hand. Growing up, this was a man Benjamin had seen around quite a lot. Walter was a slender older gentleman, his silver hair glistening and his pale white skin somehow always radiating energy.
“Benjamin,” he said, “how are you today?”
He nodded at the lawyer. “I’m as good as I can be in this trying time.” His eyes drifted to the briefcase. “Had a little meeting with my grandfather?’
Walter shook his head and sighed. “I wouldn’t say little.” He rubbed the back of his head.
“God, I don’t know how I’d handle it if I had terminal cancer. He is a strong man, but he needs all the help he can get during this period.”
“I know. I just wish this didn’t have to happen…”
Walter gave him a gentle tap on his shoulder. “He needs you right now, especially with everything he’s planning. See you around, Benjamin.”
“You too, Walter.”
With everything he is planning?
He watched the slender lawyer walk down the hall and disappear before he faced the door to his grandfather’s study.
His grandfather’s eyes lit up as soon as he entered the room. He was sitting by the window with a book on his lap.
“You seem happy,” Benjamin noted.
“Content and relieved,” his grandfather said. Benjamin walked to his side and they both stared out the window. Benjamin’s eyes moved to one of the buildings where he saw Ava’s father James working in the garden.
His grandfather wasn’t even staring outside anymore; his eyes were buried in the book he now held, his lips moving slowly as if he was in the middle of a silent prayer. He suddenly closed the book with a snap.
“Books are magical. Dying sure gives you a whole new perspective on things. But let’s not talk about death. Grab a seat, there are two very important things I wanted to talk to you about.”
Benjamin nodded and pulled up a chair. Lately, death always came up in their conversations—always. It was depressing, though hardly surprising. At least his grandfather seemed pretty calm about the whole thing. No one would guess that he had just a few weeks to live, or less than that.
Benjamin opened his mouth to speak, but his grandfather gestured towards the sideboard where a small array of extremely expensive whiskies stood. Benjamin hesitated.
“Really? Aren’t you supposed to be drinking freshly pressed vegetable juices or something?”
With a loud scoff, his grandfather shook his head. “Those things will kill me faster than the cancer. And besides, boy, a drink won’t hurt. I’ve told you this before. I’m dying. What’s the worst it a drink will do to me—make me die faster?”
“Fine, but just a little,” Benjamin warned.
“Don’t worry, son, if anything happens, I’ll just tell them you didn’t know any better.”
Benjamin chuckled as he poured two glasses. “Here you go, sir,” he offered his grandfather a whiskey. The old man took it with a smile.
They sat and sipped the drinks. It felt nice taking in that fresh scent of flowers through the open windows. No wonder grandpa loves this garden so much.
Benjamin looked up at his grandfather, whose gaze remained fixed on the garden as if there was something or someone standing there.
“Grandpa, are you alright?”
“Sarah,” his grandfather gasped as soon as he touched his hand.
“It’s me, Benjamin. You should get some rest, grandpa.”
