forum The soft footsteps of an ending life

Started November 14, 2020 by @Althalosian-is-the-father book

tune

The cough that greeted Nathaniel as he entered was cinematically awful.
“I’m fine,” the man in the bed growled, sitting up to shoo away the nurse. His expression cleared when he saw Nathaniel.
“Get out of here,” he said to the nurse, who seemed only happy to comply. Andrew gave Nathaniel an amused look from under his eyebrows. “I’m sure the boy will keep me out of mischief.” The nurse left quickly, muttering about some job needing done, and Nathaniel closed the door softly behind him.
“You got it?” the man said eagerly.
“Would I prove false?” Nathaniel replied. Out of his backpack came a can of Pepsi.
Andrew snatched it with obvious pleasure, letting out a barking laugh and gleefully giving the finger to an overhead camera, before popping the top off and emptying the contents.
“So what has conspired in your world since last I’ve seen you?”
“Ah, the usual. Morning checkups. Terrible food. Nurses being a pain in the ass. Luckily I have you here to brighten the place up a bit.”
“I can’t always bring you stuff like this, Nathaniel said, “you know you aren’t supposed to have it.”
Andrew’s expression soured. “I can do as I like. I’m on deaths door aren’t I?” A hint of anger leaked into his tone.
“They’re just trying to help you,” Nathaniel said quietly.
“You and everyone else,” Andrew muttered, and the two lapsed into silence.

~~~~~

The reception in Allie’s room was better. “Nathan!” she cried, her face lighting up almost as much as her bright red hair. She had taken to calling him Nathan, something he never allowed. But here he made an exception. She jumped in her bed, as she had been told not to countless times. “Did you bring it?” she asked, excitement barely contained in her pale face.
Nathaniel smiled a full smile. “Of course I did.” The worn green book was in his hand in an instant, and with a smile for the past as well as the present, he began to read.
“Now we will return to Bilbo and the dwarves.”

Beck pulled the massive door open–seriously, why was it so heavy?–and entered the hospital. He hated those weird rotating doors, the ones that made you go in a half-circle to enter. The overly crisp, sanitized stench of the hospital hit him like a solid slap to the face and he shuddered in spite of himself. He'd done pretty much everything possible to avoid coming to the hospital in the past seven years, and he'd more or less succeeded. As it turned out, not returning to the place where his mother had died was one hell of a motivator. He realized he was staring and shook the feeling off, then walked to the front desk.
"Hi," he began, because he had no idea what else to say. "So I brought the books from Page of Mind?"
Not the best start, but it would work. The woman behind the counter smiled widely and nodded.
"Perfect!" she said, her voice chipper and nearly cringe-inducing. No one actually sounds that cheerful, Beck thought to himself, but smiled back because it was polite and he also wasn't sure what else to do. "Paige told me you'd be on your way! I can take them-"
She was cut off by the phone ringing and paused to pick it up. After a few seconds, she frowned.
"Give me a sec," she said, and Beck wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to whoever was on the phone. She put her hand over the receiver, then spoke.
"Listen, if I give you a badge, can you take the books up to the children's ward?"
"Uh, sure?"
"Perfect! Just take this," she said, passing him a lanyard. Her pasted-on smile was back. "and follow the signs, okay? Thanks, hon, you're a gem."
Beck didn't have much in the way of a response, so he just nodded and wove his way through the lines and towards the children's ward.

He had stayed for too long. He knew it, but the pleasure it brought him to read to Allie was hard to break from. With a sigh he closed the book, leaving a few chapters left to savor at a later date. Her eyes pleaded with him to continue, but he slid the book into his pack nonetheless.
“Next time,” he said quietly.
She grinned through her disappointment, her eyes staying on his face. That’s part of what made Nathaniel like her; she had so much spirit. It only made the inevitable hurt more to think about. Nevertheless, he held her gaze until the door was closed.
He had been fourteen when he had first met death. It was his grandmother. She had cancer also. It was very quick. She died two weeks after it was discovered, a sudden collapse for no reason alerting them. The doctors said her death was nearly painless, almost a miracle. She had slid to sleep muttering the Our Father with her last breath.
She had made him who he was. Hours with her, poring over an ancient Bible, hearing the fantastic tales within. Her faith in that old book was incredible. She was the reason he believed in a God.
That day death had become real to him. He had heard about death before. Heard of it a thousand times. But it was only then that he began to hear a faint ticking in the silent moments. He knew that death inevitable marched on him. He only hoped to meet it with a smile if he could.
His thoughts were shattered when he ran into another young man carrying a tote bag. The bag slipped to the floor, scattering books everywhere. For a second they both watched the books shoot across the hall with shocked expressions.
“I apologize!” Nathaniel stuttered, “Let me help you.”

Beck turned the corner into the children's ward and stepped forward into…a man? The tote bag knocked from his grasp and fell to the floor, the books tumbling out.
"Shit!" he swore as the other man said "I apologize! Let me help you", and Beck nearly laughed at the contrast. Books skidded across the linoleum and Beck grabbed after them. He flicked his wrist, letting the bag billow open, and began to put the titles back in. Darius the Great is Not Okay, The Lightning Thief, The Poet X, Salt to the Sea, all placed firmly back where they came from. The other man added his books, all but one.
"That one yours?" Beck asked, nodding towards the man's copy of The Hobbit. "I've gotta say, I've never really gotten the appeal of Tolkien."

Nathaniel carefully placed the last book in his backpack.
“Really?” he said, taking a quick, searching look at the man before him, “Do you not care for fantasy? I confess my closeness with the books are more to sentimental attachment than anything else, but the ability of Professor Tolkien was astounding. Any great reader can tell you that.”

"I'm not, not really," Beck said. "I like keeping my head firmly in reality, you know? I'm really more of a classics guy–Salinger, Fitzgerald, Hemingway and all. And I try to read those teenage mental health books, but they're pretty hit or miss. Plus it's easier to get the older books for cheap. Tolkien has skill, I won't deny it, but he just doesn't do it for me." He shrugged, slinging the bag of books back over his shoulder. "You read anything besides Tolkien?"

“Plenty,” Nathaniel replied. “Honestly fantasy isn’t even my favorite genre. But books I read? Hmm. Harper Lee, Louisa May Alcott, Jane Austin, Mark Twain, many of the classical authors, really. Though not the ones you mention. I didn’t find Hemingway pleasing, but each to his own I suppose.” He gave a wry smile, “I prefer to keep my heads in the clouds. I like to think it makes me more open to magic. Or miracles.” His eyes lost their enthusiasm as he remembered where he was.
“Have you read the Bible?” he said quickly. “Fascinating book.”

"Wow, we're cutting right to the chase, huh?" Beck said with a half-laugh. "But yeah, I have. Not front to back or anything, but I was raised Roman Catholic. I'd read a children's Bible instead of paying attention during church. Now, d'you have some sort of pamphlet to shove at me? I'll warn you, I'm a very committed agnostic."
He considered what Nathaniel had said about miracles and magic. Even when he had been religious, miracles had been something he regarded with skepticism.

Nathaniel shrugged. “Blunt honesty doesn’t deserve the negative connotations it is given. But fear not,” he laughed, “I have nothing but regard for a fellow man attempting to find his way through the universe. My grandparents were very religious as well, my parents less so.” He paused, looking a bit serious. “I’m just trying to find where I belong in all this.”

"Aren't we all," Beck said, his voice a soft scoff. "We should probably get back to…all this. Probably shouldn't leave your patients waiting."
He paused, then perked up. "Oh! Listen, before we go, you've gotta do me a favor: read A Perfect Day For Bananafish by Salinger and get back to me. Just pop into Page of Mind some afternoon to catch up, alright?"

“You work at a bookshop too? Curious.” Nathaniel smiled as he slung his pack to his shoulders. “I was just about to go there for a few hours before heading home, though I am not sure if we have any Salinger beyond Catcher in the Rye.” He straightened his shoulders as if to leave. “Booker’s in case you want to find me. I am there most weekday afternoons when I’m not here.”