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“You need to eat.”
Querl nudges the bowl forward, but his father doesn’t even acknowledge him. He just stares blankly at the wall in front of him.
“Father, please .” His voice breaks at the end and he blinks back tears and he hates it. He’s eleven now, he should be above childish things like crying.
Kajz finally turns in his seat to look at his son, but there’s no recognition in his eyes. It’s like he’s looking at a stranger and it hurts , more than Querl ever thought possible.
The man looks from Querl to the bowl and back to Querl again.
“Who are you?” His speech is slightly slurred, words running together, nothing like the well spoken scientist he was merely 10 months previous.
“I’m your son. Querl.”
“ Querl .” His father repeats the name back, but he knows he doesn’t recognize it. He hasn’t for months now. Kajz looks down at the bowl again before shoving it away.
“Poison,” he declares. “Trying to kill me.”
“Nobody wants to kill you, Father,” Querl responds tiredly. This is the reason the doctors asked him to come in today; in addition to his rapidly declining mental state, his father seems to have developed a healthy case of paranoia. “We just want you to eat something.”
Kajz shakes his head. “Poison.”
“Here.” Querl takes the bowl and lifts the spoon to his own mouth. The substance is mushy, lukewarm, and wholly unpleasant to consume, but he forces it down. He has to. “Not poison.”
His father blinks at him, but reaches across the table to take the bowl. Finally, Kajz begins to eat and Querl’s shoulders sag with the tiniest bit of relief.
They sit in silence as Kajz hunches over the bowl, and if he can ignore how unkempt his father is and their location, Querl can almost pretend things are how they’re supposed to be.
He’s so lost in trying to create this fantasy that it catches him off guard when the man speaks again.
“I like you. Come back tomorrow?”
Querl looks across the table at the only parent he’s ever had, an echo of his former self thanks to this disease that’s taking both his mind and his body.
“Yes,” he says softly. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Kajz smiles a genuine smile, wide with excitement, and Querl’s heart truly, deeply, hurts, because he knows his father won’t remember him tomorrow.
He never does.