The Lion and the Lamb

Submitted into Contest #43 in response to: Write a story about an unlikely friendship.... view prompt

1 comment

Kids

Some people will call them the lion and the lamb. Others are not so nice, and will say worse names behind their backs. They will never be more than friends, never be more than companions. Everyone will talk about it, will talk about them, but everyone won't matter to the lion or the lamb.

The sun will always be low on the horizon when they meet. Each day after school, after work, the lion will arrive at the nursing home to visit the lamb. Each day, he'll be holding something different in his hands. Monday, a phone manual. I don't need a newfangled device, the old lady will say. Still, she'll accept it because the lion, the boy, always seems to know what she'll need.

You have a phone, I'll teach you how to use it, the boy'll reply, and he'll hand her the manual. In the nursing room, the old lady will learn how to text her friends, how to call the boy when she needs him.

On rainy Tuesday, the boy will arrive with a cookbook. He will be all wet from dancing in the rain, but miraculously, the book will still be dry. You need to stop baking those horrid cookies, he'll say while laughing. The old lady will pretend to be annoyed, but really she needed a new cookbook anyway, because she hated her cookies, too. In the nursing home kitchen, the boy will dry off his clothes and he will help the lady bake peppermint pie. Take half for your family, the old lady will say. And when the boy leaves, she'll taste the pie and read the rest of the cookbook. The old lady will never need to make her dry and crumbly cookies now.

On Wednesday the old lady will wait for the clock to tick five-thirty, and when it does, she'll see that the boy has brought a pencil case filled to the brim with pens, markers, and pencils. Now you can scrapbook, he'll explain. You'll finally have somewhere to put all of your old pictures. The old lady will be filled with nostalgia as she scrapbooks with her new pencils. She'll see a picture of her husband, and she'll try hard not to cry. Scrapbooking will help you remember, the boy will tell her. It will help you remember that you had another life outside of this one. Then the boy will cut up all her pictures and and he'll write for her, because the lady's hands are old and they shake. The lady will think that this was the best present he had brought her so far, and she will thank him profusely. After he leaves, she will start a new page with a new photo of the boy.

Thursday, the boy will have nothing in his hands. The old lady will see the tears running down his face as he shakes his shoulders, crying. She'll take him inside, and perhaps she'll give him a cup of hot chocolate to warm up. There's a girl I dated, he'll confess. There's someone I loved who loved me back, but she cheated on me, and the boy will start crying so hard he won't be able to say the sentence properly. But the old lady will understand him. She always will. Oh darling, she'll say, she never even loved you.

I know, the boy will reply. But I still love her, and it feels like I'll always be in some type of love with her.

The old lady will hug him and comfort him, because she has experienced something like that too, and she will understand him. This will continue for a few hours, and the lady will urge the boy to go home.

Not yet, he'll say. Then the boy will bring a pack of lemon crackers out of his pocket. Your favorite, the boy will say, smiling through tears.

Friday, the boy come with a CD. You're the only one I know who still has a CD player, he'll say while giving her the CD. Then he'll take a pair of earphones out of his pocket.

The old lady will bring her old CD player and she'll slip the CD inside. The lady and the boy will share one earphone each and they'll listen to songs that will make both their hearts wrench with love and sorrow.

Saturday, the boy will never come. The old lady will wait three hours for him, but he'll never come, because there will be an accident. The boy will be riding his bike on his way to the old lady, when a driver misses a red light and hits him. It will take the lady another two hours until she hears about it, and then she'll start crying. People will stare and whisper, but the old lady will never care. This isn't supposed to happen, she'll sob. It's supposed to be me who dies, not you. The old lady will miss him very much. She'll text him every day with the phone the boy taught her how to use.

Where are you; why did you leave; why do people always leave; can't you take my place; can you say hi to my husband for me; are you well up there; aren't there phones in heaven?

The boy will never see those texts, but the old lady will be okay. She already has many scars, and she'll be able to live with another one. She doesn't care about herself. She will only look at the stars at night and hope he will be okay, that he is happy up in heaven. She'll live on for another ten years, and she will learn to accept that people come and go.

The boy will be somewhere above, maybe in heaven or maybe in the place in between earth and heaven. Perhaps he will meet the old lady's family, and they will all wait for her there. For the next ten years, the boy will dance in the rain as he loved to do, and he'll fall in love all over again, and find new songs to listen to. And after ten years, nobody knows what will happen next.

But still, they'll never quite leave each others' hearts, the lion and the lamb. He taught me how to be young all over again, the old lady will say. She'll always say that, always believe that, she found youth when she found him. Even on her last breath, she will taste lemon crackers and hot chocolate and peppermint pie.

But for now, they are happy. For now, the lion and the lamb are two joyful children lost in a world that doesn't exist, a world of their own where there is no pain or heartbreak or death or anything, just friendship.

May 23, 2020 12:45

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1 comment

Laura Robertson
17:51 Jun 04, 2020

I like the metaphors for the boy (lion) and the older woman (lamb), I like that the relationship between the two is reciprocal, each offering something the other needs. The gifts are symbolic and meaningful. The twist , where the boy dies, needs to be fleshed out a little. One the the rules of writing I try to use when I write: Show, don't tell, would benefit you here, I think. Put in some dialogue to brighten up the interchanges. Saturday. Time past. "Nurse, have you heard anything from him?" "I'm sorry, ma'am. It is getting late,...

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