The Old Tin Box

“Here you go, Dad. I think that’s the last of it.”

The last of my stuff, or the last of me? Closing the door on my old home; my life now confined to a bed. But what’s that, on top? I never thought I’d see that again. Lying on top of the pile of rubbish. Looking all innocent. Holding secrets I’d gambled would never see the light of day. Hopefully Eric hasn’t noticed it. When he leaves, one of the nurses can throw it away, and that will be the end of it.

“Look, Dad! Do you see this old tin box?”

Darn it. He noticed.

“Can you believe it? I haven’t seen this for years. I thought it was lost.”

It was lost. It was deliberately lost. I’d hidden it where you’d never find it.

“It was behind the skirting board in your bedroom. A bit came away when we moved the bed. And this little tin was pushed behind it. I bet you never expected to see it again, did you?”

Nope. I had hoped I wouldn’t. I’d counted on it never being seen again.

“Lucky we went back for one final look around before the sale completes tomorrow.”

Lucky? Not the word I would use.

“Imagine if we hadn’t gone back. We’d never’ve found it.”

That is what I had been imagining. All this time. I’d been dreaming you’d never find it.

“Do you remember, when I was little? Late at night, when you thought I was asleep, I’d crawl onto the landing and look down the stairs. I saw you holding this box. You always looked so sad.”

There are some burdens too big for a little boy. Some secrets are too big for grown men to hold. Those were hard nights, Son. They were sad times.

“Oh, look, Helen. There’s tear trickling down his face. Do you think he can actually understand us?”

Of course I can understand you, you oaf! I’m still here, trapped inside this body. My mind didn’t leave when that stroke stole all my movement.

“Talk to him more about the box. Maybe it’s helping.”

Oh, my goodness. If ever there was a hair-brained woman on God’s earth… What on earth did you see in her, Eric? She’s not just two sandwiches short of a picnic. She’s missing the whole basket.

“Henry? Can you hear me, Henry? It’s Helen.”

I’m not deaf. There’s no reason to shout.

“Eric found this old tin in the house. Do you remember it? Why has he closed his eyes? It’s like he’s avoiding me.”

Maybe you aren’t as thick as I thought. Why don’t you leave us alone and stop your incessant nagging?

“Why don’t you go and get a drink, love? I’ll just talk to Dad on my own a bit.”

Amen! Well said, Son.

“She’s gone now, Dad. You can open your eyes. There you are. Welcome back.”

Far better, now she’s gone.

“Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t like Helen much.”

Son, I hate the detestable woman.

“It’s like you’ve always been polite about her, but now you can’t be bothered anymore.”

Yep, that about sums up how I feel.

“It’s not her fault, Dad.”

No, Son. I blame you. You were too easily swayed by a pretty girl. Looks fade, my boy, but nagging is forever.

“But, anyway, back to the box.”

No, we don’t have to go back there. Let’s keep talking about Helen. Let’s list her good points. Can you think of any?

“Unique,”

Thank God, He didn’t make another one like her.

“Strong,”

I’d call it stubborn.

“Rusted shut.”

You’d know better than me. Hang on. You are talking about the box. I thought we were still on Helen.

“What’s inside, Dad?”

Oh, Son. That is something you don’t want to know. Please, Eric. Let’s leave it rusted shut. Let’s not go opening Pandora’s box.

“It rattles.”

Yes, that’s it. Shake it. Shake it so hard that everything inside dissolves into harmless dust.

“I’d better be careful. I wouldn’t want to break anything.”

Oh, but you do. Because if you don’t break what is inside this tin, it will break you. It will break us. Let’s not break anything. Let’s leave well alone.

“Do you remember the time I asked you about this box?”

That time you gave me the shock of my life.

“I came downstairs and surprised you.”

Nearly gave me a heart attack.

“I thought I’d given you a heart attack.”

I never knew you’d been watching. And you straight out asked. Asked questions you should never ask.

“I asked you what was inside the box and why it made you cry.”

I nearly knocked you into the middle of next week.

“I thought you were going to hit me.”

And that was the night I hid it.

“And I never saw you with it again.”

I moved the bed out of the way – it took all my strength – and hid it behind the loose skirting board. I was determined you would never find it.

“I thought it was gone forever.”

It should’ve been.

“As a young boy, I was desperate to know what was inside. And part of me still does.”

No, you don’t, Son.

“Helen’ll be curious.”

Well, she can take a running jump.

“Maybe it’s something we should open… you know… when you’ve gone.”

As much as you are waiting for the day I depart, I’m not eager to leave. Well, I wasn’t until I saw that tin. But just seeing it, and trying not to remember, makes me feel old. Not as old as my 94 years. But older than I’d like.

“Dad. Look at me. You don’t want me to open it, do you?”

Son. I have made some bad decisions in my life. Decisions that have ruined lives. Don’t follow in my footsteps. Opening this box will be the biggest mistake of your life. Even bigger than marrying Helen.

“OK, Dad. I won’t. I can see you understand. I can see the fear in your eyes. So don’t worry. I won’t try.”

Oh. thank you, Son. Thank you. A million times, thank you.

“I couldn’t if I wanted to. Look, it’s totally rusted shut. Even if I tug it, like this… Oh, look at that. I’ve opened it.”

No, Son, no. This is a pain you should never bear. The pain… Oh… It’s taking my breath. Oh, it hurts. My heart! Eric, my son! NO…