For the first time, he looked at her, and not through her. The sight shocked him; how little did he know about the girl he once held in his arms, the girl whom he knew so well he could recite off her favourite songs by heart. She looked plain now, her face almost aged, her eyes speaking the words she no longer could voice.
"I'm alright," she said, her voice broke with emotion, and attempted to smile, and as she did the pink beanie she wore slipped slightly off to the left. He watched as her face creased with the force of each facial muscle, her smile wane and painful, and into each crease was tucked a tear, a worry, a fragment of her past she no longer wished to revisit. He watched as she reached under the sheets and held up a small stuffed bear, before clasping it tightly in her arms and against her chest. "At least he's been keeping me company," she whispered. Then he remembered that she loved stuffed toys.
In desperation he bade her farewell and exited the room he first entered with anticipating anxiety. He was alone now- the door had been closed behind him and he could see her no more. He hadn't realised how sick she had been, neither had he realised how much he had been caught up with his work to even notice that she had been suffering from cancer for a long time. In what could perhaps be described as a mixture of pain and pure guilt, he made his way to the toyshop a couple of buildings from the hospital and stood looking through the glass window at the rows and rows of TY toys he knew, or at least he last remembered he knew, she loved. He couldn't remember if she preferred the large furry giraffe or the small stuffed horse and yet he remembered she had told him before- they had been to this very same toyshop. In frustration he bought both, then impulsively picked out 6 other stuffed animals before realising he was out of credit. He paid for the remaining in cash, headed out of the store and ran to the hospital before he could think twice about spending his entire pay for the week.
He stood outside her room steadying his breath, then pushed open the door. She wasn't there- they must have taken her away for yet another round of those endless tests. She wouldn't be back for a while, he knew, and began arranging the newly bought stuffed animals at the foot and head of her bed; how garish they looked against the crumpled white sheets. Then he stood back and looked at the arrangement, before taking a small sheet of paper from her bedside table and scribbling,' Love.' Love who, he did not state. All he wanted was for her to feel loved, in some way or another, then he felt his phone buzz into life against his thigh.
" I'm sorry I wasn't always here," he murmured, before opening the door and leaving the room. He had to return to work- he knew that the buzz could be from no one other than his colleague. Yet something, perhaps the most crucial thing he had not realised was that nothing, not even her favourite stuffed animals, could be his substitute.
"I'm alright," she said, her voice broke with emotion, and attempted to smile, and as she did the pink beanie she wore slipped slightly off to the left. He watched as her face creased with the force of each facial muscle, her smile wane and painful, and into each crease was tucked a tear, a worry, a fragment of her past she no longer wished to revisit. He watched as she reached under the sheets and held up a small stuffed bear, before clasping it tightly in her arms and against her chest. "At least he's been keeping me company," she whispered. Then he remembered that she loved stuffed toys.
In desperation he bade her farewell and exited the room he first entered with anticipating anxiety. He was alone now- the door had been closed behind him and he could see her no more. He hadn't realised how sick she had been, neither had he realised how much he had been caught up with his work to even notice that she had been suffering from cancer for a long time. In what could perhaps be described as a mixture of pain and pure guilt, he made his way to the toyshop a couple of buildings from the hospital and stood looking through the glass window at the rows and rows of TY toys he knew, or at least he last remembered he knew, she loved. He couldn't remember if she preferred the large furry giraffe or the small stuffed horse and yet he remembered she had told him before- they had been to this very same toyshop. In frustration he bought both, then impulsively picked out 6 other stuffed animals before realising he was out of credit. He paid for the remaining in cash, headed out of the store and ran to the hospital before he could think twice about spending his entire pay for the week.
He stood outside her room steadying his breath, then pushed open the door. She wasn't there- they must have taken her away for yet another round of those endless tests. She wouldn't be back for a while, he knew, and began arranging the newly bought stuffed animals at the foot and head of her bed; how garish they looked against the crumpled white sheets. Then he stood back and looked at the arrangement, before taking a small sheet of paper from her bedside table and scribbling,' Love.' Love who, he did not state. All he wanted was for her to feel loved, in some way or another, then he felt his phone buzz into life against his thigh.
" I'm sorry I wasn't always here," he murmured, before opening the door and leaving the room. He had to return to work- he knew that the buzz could be from no one other than his colleague. Yet something, perhaps the most crucial thing he had not realised was that nothing, not even her favourite stuffed animals, could be his substitute.
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