Malagash by Joey Comeau

Author:Joey Comeau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ECW Press
Published: 2017-09-12T22:06:19+00:00

-- THREE --

>_

We’re always bringing him something. Cluttering up our father’s room. A book for his stack of thrillers. A light summer quilt for when the nights turn cold. A deck of playing cards, which go into the drawer beside the other deck of playing cards we forgot about. There are only so many practical things a person needs. But we still need to bring him things. A glow-stick headband for some silly pictures. A bobble-head doll of a lobster, which is stupid. But stupid is good. Stupid can win a smile.

Today we bring a chessboard that Simon found in an old trunk. A ziplock baggie of little plastic chess pieces. My brother holds them up for our father to see.

“Nice,” he says. “Are you going to teach me how to play chess?”

“No!” My brother laughs.

“I told Simon that you’d show him how to play,” my mother says.

“And so the blind shall lead the blind,” my father says. To Simon, he says, “I would be very happy to teach you how to play chess.”

“Don’t take your jacket off,” my mom says to Simon. She puts the chessboard on the bed beside my dad, and she kisses his cheek. Her jacket is still on, too. “Want anything in particular?” she asks my dad.

“Maybe a hot chocolate today, instead of coffee?” he says.

“Okay,” she says. “See you in an hour!” She takes Simon’s hand, and they leave.

Every day, my mother and Simon walk to a coffee shop in town, ostensibly for breakfast snacks but really for the fresh air and exercise. For the quiet. Even yesterday, in the pouring rain, they walked.

“That’s what raincoats are for,” my mother said in response to the waif’s complaints.

It’s a half hour walk, each way, just for coffee. It seems silly, especially since we drive right past that place every morning. We could easily stop then. From a conservation of effort perspective, it doesn’t make any sense at all. It is inefficient, and I prefer to be efficient. Especially now. It seems wrong to spend a half hour walking someplace when we have so little time left with my father. That’s an hour lost forever. But if we are being honest, I also don’t care much for being outside.

My mother is different. She needs to be outside. She needs to do things. To go places. To talk to people. It drives her crazy to spend the whole day cooped up.

For the first couple weeks, we did things the efficient way. We stopped to pick up snacks on the way to the hospital and stayed the whole day with my father. And at the end of every day, my mother was worn out. She was tired and irritated and sad. Which, of course, could be because we’re here every day, sitting around a hospital bed, waiting for her husband to die. But my mom didn’t believe that was it. Not entirely.

So she made a change. She started walking, every day. Even when she clearly doesn’t feel like it.

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