Ephemeral (1)

“Would you care to have some tea before you leave, young man?"

"Uh… yeah for sure Mr. Edwards. Let me just grab a couple of cups.” I replied absentmindly as I picked up my coat and got ready to leave.

The old man nodded, satisfied, then closed his eyes and started snoring.

It was difficult to look at this tired, frail husk of a man and imagine him as anybody else. You could call it folly of youth if you’d like, but for me, Mr. Edwards was Mr. Edwards. The fact that he had once been my age was unfathomable.

I huddled inside my coat as I grabbed my keys, making sure I left everything in order for my relief. I spared one last look at Mr. Edwards.

Old men usually looked like old men, which made it difficult for me to estimate his age. But, he hardly ever left that sofa he was lying on nowadays. He was thin, tired, and very fragile. His hearing was catastrophic, he could only see from one eye, and he couldn’t even walk without help.

Of course, his body wasn’t the only thing decaying. He had also been blessed by a very aggressive early dementia. I hear it often makes people scared and confused. Mr. Edwards wasn’t like that. He was calm, stoic, and even when he made absolutely no sense - Like him mistaking me for a man earlier, he had a little dignified air about him.

What good is dignity when you need someone like me to wipe your ass and help you shower?

I wasn’t complaining, of course. This gig paid extremely well, and like I said, Mr. Edwards wasn’t particularly difficult to handle. A broke college student required all the money she could get, especially when she was studying thousands of kilometres away from home.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I opened the text from Claire, somehow already knowing what it was going to say.

“Hey Maria. I had a flat tire on the way. I’m soooooo sorry, but could you cover for me for a couple more hours? I swear I’ll make it up to you. Love youuuu.”

This was getting old. Last week, it had been cramps and a headache. The previous one, it had been a huge car accident blocking the entire highway. Either she was the unluckiest human to ever live, or just completely shameless.

Or, third option, you are a fucking doormat and you should call her on her bullshit.

“Hey, no worries! I really don’t mind, so please take your time. Drive safe!”

God I hate myself.

I sat on a chair, thinking of warm tacos and a cosy shower, as I listened to Mr. Edwards breath heavily.

It was going to be a long shift.

Commentaires

Enregistrer un commentaire

Posts les plus consultés de ce blog

Bubbles (4)

Part 1 : Part 2: Part 3: Oh look, another flashback. How very creative. Amina had always prided herself on her ability to give very few fucks. The only thing she enjoyed more than not getting involved in other people’s affairs was people not getting involved in hers. Live and let live. Even so, there are some sights one just can’t ignore. Like an injured kitten looking at you with pleading eyes. Or a scrawny kid sitting on the stairs of your apartment at 11pm. -- He was a skinny, tiny little thing. He was sitting in a corner, his arms around his knees, probably trying to take as little space as possible. His brown, curly hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in months. He had tired grey eyes, a crooked nose, and more notably, a huge knife scar that slashed across his left cheek. His jacket and jeans had tears on them. Teenage boys had a notoriously bad sense of hygiene, but this was just a kid, and Amina could smell him long before she could see him. As she stepp...
Read more »

Bubbles (3)

  Part 1 :   Part 2: There is something eerily comforting about knowing that you’re slowly losing your mind. For one thing, trivial things no longer concern you as much. You stop taking things seriously. After all, your mind is slowly deteriorating, and there isn’t much you can do about it. So you decide to do dumb shit just for the sake of doing dumb shit. Like inviting your teenage neighbour over to smoke weed on a Monday night. --- Amina woke up much earlier than usual. It was still dark outside. She stretched, let out a loud yawn, and got out of bed. There was a makeshift mattress below her, where her neighbour had crashed. He was curled up in a ball with his hands on his knees, softly snoring. She quietly took off the glasses he still had on, put a blanket on top of him, ruffled his hair affectionately before stepping out to the balcony. The first dilemma Amina was faced with was whether to start her day with a joint. She easily solved it as she stared at a...
Read more »

Letters to the love of my life

  Hi there, I have no clue what I’m doing, and I have never done this before. Please bear with me. Actually, I lied. I did this once when I was 12. It was a long Facebook message. She was my first love and she preferred we remained friends. You know how you keep thinking about something over and over again, and somehow your brain tricks you into believing it is true? We’ve never talked before. I said hi to you a couple of times but you never said it back. You just stared at me until I felt like a creep and ran away with my tail between my legs. But then the next day, we stumbled into each other on the staircase and you smiled at me. I was too flustered to react. I thought you hated me. So my brain was indecisive. Just like teenage girls deciding on their feelings by peeling a flower, I had a different answer every time I thought about it. Does she like me? If she didn’t, why did she stare at me for so long? If she actually liked me, why didn’t she say hi back? It’s a lo...
Read more »