Who Will Wait

[David Wayne]

It was that guy thing. The one that makes you stand in tight and take seventy mile an hour pitches when you're near sighted. I could hear it in his seven year old voice.
"I wanna go with you."
He was out of breath, bent over, supporting himself with his hand on his knees. I asked him where his inhaler was. He pulled it from his pocket and I wondered what it must be like to be that dependent on something.

"You sure it was Doc Greene's office?"

"Yep, said the tests are in, Can I go with you?"

I wished his mother was there, but the guy thing had me too.
"Sure" I said.
I was thinking this was a bad idea, but he would know the results soon enough, might as well hear it from the Doc.

We sat in front of Doc Greene's new associate. He was telling us that "The Doc had an emergency and that he was to go over the test results with us." He said he couldn't find the age of the patient on the chart and was curious as to how old he was. I was feeling a little disappointed. I replied that he was seven, almost eight, and, did he know how long the Doc would be out of the office. He gave me an apologetic glance and continued.

"The lungs are colonized. Antibiotics and steroids aren't working."
He paused, looked at my son then back to me. I gave him a go ahead nod. The words, "He will die," made my son shift in his chair and made me wish my wife was there. He gave him a month, maybe a week on either side.

I knew what the options were. I also knew that making this Intern the hero was important.
"I guess I could shoot him," I said.
I gave the Intern the (jump in here anytime) look.
"Well," he said. "I was thinking more on the lines of an injection. It will make him go to sleep. It's not as messy that way."

Then my son spoke up.
"Yeah, an injection, that sounds better."
I told him we would wait in the car. My son gave the cat a hug, placed him in the cage and followed me to the car.

We sat in the car and waited for the Intern to bring us the shoebox that held my son's best friend. It was as hard a thing as I ever had to do. I looked at him. I could see the guy thing at work. I wished I'd have let him see me cry, it might have helped right then. He sat there with a lump in his throat the size of a cat.
"Are you going to cry?" I asked.
"No."

"Me too."

And we did.

That night the Redwings and Avalanche were playing game seven. My son crawled into the recliner next to me and put his head on my chest.

"Dad, will you die someday?"
"Someday son."
"And Mom?"
"Yeah I suppose so" I said, while trying to watch the game.

"Then who will wait in the car with me?"

[dwells]

Beautiful in its serio-sadness and the pervading emotions were palpable. I was relieved to hear it was only the cat (with a qualified "only"). My old doggie is on his last legs and my oldest daughter has all her motherly instincts invested. A well-told tale DW and superb short story that will be a sweet consolation; from the mouths of babes, cheers!

[ramfire]

A very sad story that brought tears to my eyes. Can there be a sequel that will give the boy new life?

[Sasha]

I really like the indirectness of the narrative, and how through the read the ideas are built in the reader's mind – it's about whom, the general idea of the story and how it was handled throughout the read, yeah, I really like how it wasn't straightforward, I think it matches the idea of 'death' and just how it is.
Touching read, and I very much like the ending!

Sash

[David Wayne]

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and reply to this. Much appreciated.


David

[rupertpupkin]

Hi. A wonderful life lesson and a very touching tale. I love your way of telling it too. You have a really nice touch, good one, Sean.

[SilentTears]

Very well written, charming, and engrossing. You don't carry on and your style isn't boring. I like how you let us assume something at the beginning and then turned it around mid-story. Well done.