2 comments

Fiction

The picture was unflattering to say the least. 

There was always that moment when the phone camera is flipped into selfie mode, where the camera is too close and all you see is a closeup of your nose, your eyes almost half-lidded because of the low angle, and the shining wideness of your forehead. This photo hadn’t quite captured that moment, but the expression on his face was nonetheless similarly awkward anyway. Anyone with a grandparent or even older parent had seen the captured face he was making. It was the look of a person struggling with technology, mouth open just slightly and eyes squinted in concentration and confusion, or perhaps simply poor eyesight in general. What was funny was the fact that there were actually three photos of him, and in staring at the consecutive ones, his lips were actually starting to quirk up into an amused smile as he belatedly realized the camera was facing the wrong direction. 

That part she did remember, stepping out of the cheesing pose with her husband and son to see what technological difficulties her father was experiencing. Following the three surprise selfies of the man was a giant spot of darkness, the warm red at its curve suggesting it was a thumb. How had he tapped the capture button so many times without realizing it? 

It was funny how elders struggled so much with modern technology, while children were seeming masters at every newly released app. She didn’t like to admit it, but she was sure she was reaching that point in her life too. Ollie was only fourteen and sometimes it sounded like he was speaking another language, when apparently he was just referencing the newest meme on the internet. At least she knew how to use her laptop and printer. Her father still questioned how devices worked without wires anymore. Yet despite his inability to fully understand the intricacies of technology, he never gave up trying. And Ollie, bless his heart, had the patience of a saint when it came to walking his grandfather through such explanations. There were certainly occasions when he’d glance towards her or his dad, eyes so wide she could practically see the words ‘help me’ flashing within them like a flickering neon sign. But then he’d just smile at his grandfather and try explaining the entire thing all over again, never once snapping or raising his voice. And twenty minutes later, his grandfather will have learned—for that evening at least—how to navigate to movie streaming on his phone. The two would then share a smile, one of pride and one of relief, before curling up to watch a superhero flick, which would start the entire explanation phase all over again.

At seventy-two years of age, there wasn’t much that phased her father anymore. Sure, he still had moments of stress. Of course he still complained about old age or how much his back hurt. But for the most part, he was content with his life and managed to keep a smile on. And he’d always had the most gentle smile. Even at the height of mirth where he laughed so hard that his belly shook, his grin was never obnoxious or face-splitting. It was toothy and playful, still like a young boy’s grin.

Perhaps that was why he got along so well with her son.

He’d always say that the boy acted older than he was. He’d comment on Ollie’s stance, how he folded his hands properly or curled them behind his back like he was about to give a sales presentation. He’d speak confidently and endlessly, apparently reminiscent of a lawyer.

“Are you going to be an attorney when you grow up?”

“No, grandpa, I’m going to be an astronaut.”

She and her husband noticed the mannerisms as well, and knew that neither one of them acted that way. When they asked their son where he’d learned such things, he simply shrugged. But when he walked beside his grandfather, the answer was clear.

On the day Ollie was born, she remembers a joy on her father’s face that she’d never witnessed before. There actually wasn’t much she remembered about that day at all besides numbness, exhaustion, and some ridiculous comment from her husband about how their newborn was so scrunched up that he looked like an alien. But she does remember her father’s absolute elation when he carefully took that fragile squirming bundle into his arms.

“Did you decide on a name yet?” Her father asked, slowly rocking with the child.

Her husband looked towards her on the bed, a small knowing smile on his face.

“We’re going to call him Ollie.” She managed to respond, her own happiness keeping her going through the fatigue. 

Her father froze then, his jaw slack as he glanced at her. She only nodded.

“Short for Oliver, after you.”

Ollie and Oliver were inseparable. In everything they did, Ollie always asked if Grandpa could be there too. On a day of downtime, he asked if he could go to Grandpa’s house. If they started discussing where to go over summer break, Ollie begged for Grandpa to come along too. It wasn’t even that Ollie was being spoiled by the older man. There were no new toys or excess candy with every meeting. No slipping cash to him just because. Ollie simply enjoyed his grandfather’s company. He adored listening to the stories his grandfather told, learning lessons or life hacks from his grandfather’s experiences. He never grew weary of what tales his grandfather offered, even if he’d already heard them before.

So the day that Oliver passed was difficult for everyone.

For an entire day Ollie couldn’t stop crying. When his tears eased up and she figured he may have finally worn himself out, it wouldn’t be long until he broke down all over again. For about a month after the funeral, Ollie was numb. There was nothing she could do to appease her son. There was no one who would fill the shoes his grandfather left. Ollie’s own light seemed to have been snuffed along with his grandfather’s. He didn’t smile like he used to, and his laughter was even rarer. As much as she herself loved her father, she knew that Ollie had lost a piece of his heart.

The healing process was a slow one. When it seemed like Ollie was finally alright, he’d mention some little saying he’d learned from Grandpa, and you could see the sadness return to his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. So honestly, when she’d found the photos while digging through her phone storage, she was hesitant to show Ollie at all. Yet when she did, she caught sight of a real joy she hadn’t seen in months. Ollie’s eyes immediately lit up like a switch had been flipped. A grin stretched across his face that he couldn’t stop even if he tried. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Ollie released a genuine laugh.

“That’s an awful picture,” Ollie said, still grinning in amusement. 

He thumbed expertly at the phone, and she was quick to make a grab at it, thinking he might have deleted them. But the pictures remained in place right where they were, as well as copies having been sent to his own phone.

The next day Ollie walked a little taller. He openly related Grandpa’s stories during the day again, like during lunch when he poked at the peas and reminded her of the fact that Grandpa hated them, or when he put a movie on and pointed out suspenders just like the ones Grandpa owned. Ollie was thriving again, without the weight of depression weighing him down any longer. 

And when she walked into his room to grab his laundry that evening, she spotted a new photo pinned to his corkboard. An awkward, unflattering closeup of her father, which brought a smile to her own face.

April 05, 2024 18:16

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

2 comments

Trudy Jas
14:24 Apr 09, 2024

What a lovely story. Such a great debut. Welcome to Reedsy. p.s. At 72, I'm afraid I need an Ollie. :-)

Reply

Kai Brando
21:00 Apr 10, 2024

Thank you for reading! :)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Reedsy | Default — Editors with Marker | 2024-05

Bring your publishing dreams to life

The world's best editors, designers, and marketers are on Reedsy. Come meet them.