Mission 12235

I watch the father and son duo sit in silence at the dining table. My presence seems to be infringing on their privacy, yet I have to be here.

They are having a serving of roast pork, mashed potatoes and some wine. “These are your favorites, dad,” the son thinks. Judging by the state of kitchen, the son had a busy morning preparing this meal. Mr. Roderick looks at his plate, his eyes watering, thinking, “I hope it’s as nice as mine.” 

The son dips his head, eating quietly. The kitchen feels too quiet without his father’s radio blaring in the background. But that’s just what he needs - a quiet dinner with his dad. In the recent years of living with his dad, they hadn’t had many chances of eating together. He likes to think it was because he was tied up with work, but truthfully, he just didn’t like coming home to dinner when it was just the two of them left. But today, today he has to be here. He owes it to his dad.

The shrill ring of his mobile phone jerks him out of his reverie. He pulls out his phone and looks at the screen irritably. It is the lawyer again – the one whom he has been avoiding for a week. He wouldn’t pick up the call, doesn’t want to sign those papers. What would he do with this house anyway? It seems too large, too quiet; long gone was the banter and noise he grew up with. Maybe one day he will find himself a small place, somewhere closer to the city, so that the hum of the city could drown the stillness of his house.

He picks up his wine glass, swirls the content like his dad taught him. He never liked drinking, but his dad did. Today, all he wants is for his dad to be happy.

Outside, it has begun to snow again. His dad never liked the cold, said it made his joints ache. “Weather forecast says it would just be a light dusting, the snow will be gone by tomorrow. And then there would be a stretch of warmer weather. Dad will love it. Maybe we could go for a walk,” he thinks to himself.

“My memory seems to be failing me. This morning I thought about us, the walks we used to go to when the weather was warm, the paintings that we did together, the meals we ate together. But some days I struggle to differentiate them from my dreams. Some days I wonder if those distant memories of mine are indeed memories, and not just some dream I had. It’s funny eh,” the son laughs. “How I’m still young yet having these issues with my memory. Do you think, perhaps, that one day, those memories will be like the snow, where they just melt and get forgotten?”

Mr. Roderick shakes his head, looks at his son. “They will always be there if you look hard enough. Don’t look too hard though, because you can’t see if you’re forcing it too much.”

I jump at the succession of vibrations from the device on my wrist - they call it the “tracker”, lets us know when it is time. I was so absorbed in the exchange before me that I had forgotten that dusk has fallen, and we have to go.

I clear my throat awkwardly, hoping Mr. Roderick would hear me. He looks up at me quizzically, momentarily forgetting who I am. I wave and smile sadly at him. “We have to go, sir,” I say.

He blinks at me, sighs and walks over to me. He glances at the snow outside. “The snow always made my boy happy. But now even the sight of it doesn’t make him happy.”

I give him a brief hug, unsure of what to say.

“Happy 100^th birthday, dad.” We turn towards the son, a cake in hand.

“It’s your 100^th birthday today?” I look at Mr. Roderick in shock.

He chuckles, shakes his head. “No, I always joked with my boy that it is my dream to live to a hundred years old. How cool is that?” He nudges me, a twinkle in his eye. The twinkle lasts for a second before sadness replaces them. “It is – was, my 97^th birthday today. Sadly, I didn’t make it.”

“Well, you have had a long life, sir. Not many people could make it to this old.”

“Not long enough for him.” He jerks his chin in the direction of his son. “I thought maybe, if I could live longer, then there would be a few years less for him to be alone. He has been so lonely ever since his mom left.”

I swipe at the trickle of tear that slides down my cheek.

My “tracker” vibrates again, this time with more urgency. If we don’t go now, the Institution might send someone over to check on us. And it definitely isn’t something I want. I am new to this job – well, a hundred human years is just ten days in my world, so yeah, I am still finding my way around this job, and I intend to keep my job.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Roderick, but we really must go.”

Mr. Roderick gives me a sad smile, but he nods and turns to the door. “Lead the way then. So, what happens now? Will I still remember my boy? Will I get to see my wife?”

I look at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know the details, Mr. Roderick. I am kind of new to the job.”

He guffaws and slaps me on the back. “They sent a newbie to fetch an old guy like me. How old must one die to get a senior person then?”

I laugh along, hoping that this distracts him from the fact that I am leading him away from his son.

Mr. Roderick takes one longing look at his son, heaves a sigh, and together, we drift out the door. Behind me, the son stands and dumps the untouched food on his father’s plate into the bin. He slides to the floor, no longer able to contain his weep.

I pull Mr. Roderick close to me. “He will be fine.”

“Yes, someday he will be. Someday he will wake up, and everything will look a little brighter. But tomorrow, he will put on his best smile, hides his grief from the world, and tries to be happy.

My boy is like a ball of sunshine, all smiles every day. But he says he isn’t always happy. And when I asked him, why then, does he smile all the time, he told me, ‘Because people don’t know how to act around a sad person. It’s easier if we pretend’. ”

Mr. Roderick wipes a tear off his face. Putting on a brave smile, he says to me, “And on to my next journey, then!”

Together, we float to the light, and with this, I complete my 12235^th mission.

When, I wonder, will this get any easier.