Dead End

She sits silently. Her foot tapping with a rhythmic pace. Suddenly she stops, closes her eyes and lets the tear slip by. She cries on the next shoulder. She can't cry helplessly when she knows the culprit.

***

I walk with padded feet. The days are cold and bitter. The frost painted windows set time back to the eighteen hundreds with the sounds of ancient clocks warming the room. The once nauseous feeling is subsided by the ambrosial roses and tulips. 

What I see first is the back of his head. His blond hair, not so thick as it used to be but combed neatly. 

“Grandpa?” I say

“Grandpa?” I try again, a bit louder this time. 

He looks back. Thick round glasses rest on the perfect slope of his nose, his tapered brows hanging up as always. I used to be proud of his chiselled jaw, how it smoothly curved at perfect angles which now is nothing but a stack of pale skin ready to peel off. 

Grandpa was a cowboy in his days. Not the typical one that you could think of. He was a short man. His hood would usually be tattered, jeans ripped and clothes covered in mud. He was witty, but not capable enough to put in words or have the honour to be respected. He would ride the horses for sure, horses with beautiful manes and strong bodies but would not be allowed to hold the reins or take control. Just sit behind and supply the guns. 

“Ah, my sweet little granddaughter!” He pastes his dentures over his wrinkled face. However far I head down, his smile would always pick me up. 

“Ah! My handsome grandpa!” I run towards him like a ten-year-old and hug him with all my might. “How did I get an awesome man like you?” 

Our eyes rest on each other. His blue eyes. Perfect blue eyes, one with calm oceans and raging storms. Blue waters and frozen ice. 

I can hear the rumble in his chest as he tries hard not to laugh. 

“When will you stop buttering this old man. I have nothing to give and not enough red to blush.” 

“Hm. Tough question. Probably never.”  

The room echoes again with laughter. A few seconds later, I lift my head from his chest, my ears now up like a dog and eyes sparkling as ever. “I have a gift for you.” 

“Oh a gift for this man! I am not surprised” He rubs his hands together, the nerves bulging out. His hands are delicate and cold. 

I am sorry Grandpa. But I can’t tell you the truth. 

*** 

When all are gone, she smiles to herself. He is sitting inside. This is probably her only chance. No, don’t you dare call it bad! It is not her fault anyway. The old man is nothing but a burden to the family. He sleeps and eats. Probably he too wishes to get rid of the listlessness. She is just helping. There is a box of tablets pinched in between her two fingers. But here is when she loses it. Here is when she gets the tables turn. 

The girl silently watches from the window, holding in a storm of tears. 

***

I pull it out from beneath the sofa. Perfectly wrapped in shining gift paper with Christmas bells decorating the surface. Holding it is a beautiful red ribbon tied in a perfect bow. The gift is surprisingly small in size. I hand it over to him. 

He receives it smiling, his brows permanently raised. The blue eyes now like an excited child. 

“What is it?”

“Go on. Open it” 

He knows me too well. And the efforts I have put. He pulls one end off the ribbon gently and instead of tearing the wrapping paper in one go, he looks for the tapes. He has no nails. Not even a little bit. And I don’t offer him help. 

I just sit back watching him scratch the tapes with his fine fingers and laugh. He is going to tear the beautiful wrapping eventually. 

I just love the way he is. 

Finally, he did it! His smile keeps getting wider. 

It is a snow globe. A special one. An old man sitting on the chair and at his foot is a teen girl with a book in her hands and a smile on her face. 

It is probably the best gift the old man has ever received. He tugs me beneath his arm. I could now clearly sniff the strong ginger and nutmeg odour coming from him. I wouldn’t appreciate it that much, especially when your nose is a few centimetres away from the armpit. But I’ll let it go. 

“I absolutely love it, sweetheart. You just gave me another piece for my antique.” 

“Hey! This isn’t for your antique!” 

Here it goes. The rumble again. Deep down from his chest.

I laugh first. He joins me. We both laugh.

“So, what have you decided for the new year's resolution ‘tis time?” 

A particular question I have been avoiding lately. Even he wouldn’t understand it. That is why I’ll say. 

“To help people taste their own fruit.” I saw out boldly. Not even a little bit of wavering or stuttering. Just out like that as if nothing is going to happen tonight. 

‘Interesting’ is all he managed to say. 

*** 

She has a plan in mind. And so has the girl. Tonight there will be blood. The battle remains ‘of whom?’ 

*** 

The handle feels firm in my hands. Feels like it belongs there. I know it does. I open the door slightly. She is still talking to herself. 

“I am sorry, poor grandpa. But this is how it is supposed to be” She says, careless again.

“Yes mom, this is how it is supposed to be” 

I am in the room now. The door closed behind me. Whatever happens, it is inside these four walls. 

“Clara? What are you doing here?” 

“You invited it, mom. You invited it.” The knife is now up in the air, shining like silver. 

“Oh. So you know. What are you going to do about it, huh?” 

“I thought it is too obvious.” 

“Listen, Clara, you are too young now. Maybe you will understand it one day, but not right now. It is better if you let me do what I need to do.” 

“I am twenty-one! Old enough to know who the real burden is. And I am going to take it off tonight.” 

“You don’t understand, Clara” 

“Understand what! Why do you want to poison my grandpa! The only person who ever understood me! Or why do you consider him as a burden! Tell me. What do I not understand huh? That I got a crazy bitch as my mother!” 

“Enough. Get out of my way.” 

We were both screaming now. I stood in front of her like a rock. Dare someone move me.

“Clara!” She kept repeating.

“Clara get out” She yelled one last time. I could feel my heart popping out of its cage. 

“No!” I reply. Firmly. 

“He killed my friggin’ mother! Get lost”

The reply had me lose control and she rushed past me. Only if I hadn’t caught her by the arm, she would’ve gone and done it. 

“Grandma died when she fell from the staircase. How was it his fault?” My tone had come back to normal now. To my own surprise, even mixed with sympathy. 

“He was standing right there when she fell. He didn’t move. Didn’t help her. He didn’t even call the police! Do you talk about yourself? She was part of my soul. Only one in the entire world whom I could call a ‘friend’ and she too left me.” Tears rushed past her cheeks. “And now, he is bound to die. I am sorry honey.” 

She was running away. I am not going to let it happen. How can I let him die? No no. The heat coming off was too intense to take. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. It happened within a snap of a finger. 

She was down on the ground, covered in pools of blood. A knife pierces through her back. 

I run back to the hall. Numb. Desperate to see his face. I need to tell him. The story of his brave granddaughter. A granddaughter who would do anything for his grandpa. 

What I see first is the back of his head. Shiny as ever. 

“Grandpa?” I walk towards him. His pale hands now hold the snowball. His chiselled jaw brings out his features. 

His blue eyes. 

They are cold and lifeless like balls of snow. His tapered brows are first time hanging down. 

I mourn the night for the corpse of two.