Work Text:
His skin was pale, paler than before as his skeletal frame lay sickly on the hospital bed. Tubes were connected to his arm, prolonging his life, even just for a bit, only if he could see his daughter one final time. His chest heaved with hoarse coughs, a hand covering his mouth just in time. The heart rate monitor beeped frequently, a steady sign of life.
***
A young girl sat on the train, her right hand gripped tightly into a fist on her lap, her nails digging into her skin. Her short brown hair was tangled, yet she tried taming it and tied it into an unsuccessful ponytail. Lights flicked overhead, the natural light came through the windows intermittently as the train thundered on, painting the carriage with fleeting shadows. A tote bag rested beside her, the handles loosely around her left arm, her slender fingers supporting it next to her. Trees and buildings whizzed by, the blue sky streaked with fluffy, white clouds. Occasionally, she could see small birds soaring in the air, or when the train stopped momentarily, sparrows flitting in and out through the branches. The girl drank in every detail with her eyes, admiring the passing scenery.
Nothing is permanent in life, not even life itself. Chalk drawings on the pavement wash away from morning rains, memories eventually fade away and newly bloomed flowers don’t live forever. Happiness is brief, peace short lived. Sadness may be temporary, but it has a tighter grip to shake.
The train speaker system hummed with announcements, people leaving and entering the carriage. Bags thumped as they bumped against each other as they were lifted up onto the overhead rack. She could hear the scrape of a suitcase being rolled onto the train two doors down the same carriage she was in. Children holding their parent’s hand as the carriage swayed slightly while moving, and their bright smiles being exchanged with each other. The families on board looked so happy in their presence, quiet chats filled the air conditioned air.
Something stirred inside of the girl’s heart as she watched a small girl sit next to her father, something she did not know herself. It made her feel sick, as if her stomach had turned inside out, but also made her feel empty. Hollow. Inside her mind, she begged for her station to arrive so the uncomfortable feeling could die out. What overcame her?
***
The door slid open as the girl stepped into the medical ward, her eyes trained onto the white floors, unable to look at the sick man lying on the bed. She pulled out some cut flowers and carefully placed them into the small, ceramic vase on the bedside table. Sitting down on a chair, she finally set eyes on the man, her father.
“Hello there,” he said in a hushed voice, a weak smile donning his face.
“Hi,” the daughter replied stiffly, an awkward silence filling the air. “I… I got you some flowers, dad.”
The man lifted his head to look at the daffodils, their yellow petals a warm golden colour. The flowers sat lazily in the narrow vase, drinking up the fresh water. The sunlight radiated through the window, giving the daffodils a yellow glow, the man smiled satisfied.
“Yes dear, they’re beautiful. Where did you buy them?” he asked, his voice calm and gentle.
“Down at the florists’ close to the station,” the daughter mumbled, her gaze averted.
Silence resumed, one in comfort, the other in anxiety. The silence was punctuated with the faint ticking of the small, brass clock that sat on the bedside table, ticking away with each passing second and the electronic beep of the heart monitor. Dull clamour from outside the hospital ward was heard, indistinct conversations between families and nurses, between patients, only to be drowned out by her own mental silence.
“The other day, I met another man with the same condition as I do, isn’t that funny? Except he moved out to a different room,” he said cheerfully. “ I haven’t seen you for two weeks now, how’s work? You must have been busy.”
“Yeah, work is…” she mumbled. In truth, she hadn’t been busy at all, her workplace was taking a break for the winter, and she was avoiding things, avoiding him. “The shop is selling well. It’s been busy, yeah,” she finished rigidly. Her mouth opened to speak when she was interrupted by her father’s hacking cough. She watched the old man in front of her shudder with each lung-rattling cough. “I’ll go fetch some water,” she whispered.
Standing up, the chair squeaked as the legs scraped against the floor. The girl turned and left the room, her eyes trained on the ground. She walked through the hospital corridors, looking in the open doors of different wards. A family was visiting a sick grandparent, their children recounting their days at school with vigour.
When she reached the sinks, she picked up a glass cup and turned on the faucet, watching the water slowly stream into the tap. Suddenly, she heard a childish giggle erupt from somewhere behind her, and her head turned to take a look. A father carrying his baby outside the ward, both having a warm smile on their faces. Her face turned cold and she tore her eyes away from them. Cold water overflowed from the cup, cascading down the sides and running over her fingers, causing her to jump and turn off the faucet quickly.
Her father had only asked about her day, and she had only given him a cold shoulder. He cared for her deeply no matter how she had acted. If only she had shown him that she did love him, then maybe she would not have felt so empty. So jealous of others. Old tears that were shed from an unstable teenager’s emotional turmoil, taking everything deeply. Controlled by stress and emotions, apologies were blocked by pride and hate. Turning away from one of the only people who cared for her.
I’ll tell him I love him, she decided, exhaling through her mouth.
Making her way back, she was left alone with her thoughts once more, ignoring all the families around her. Only one mattered to her now, and that was her own. She could imagine the face that was wrinkled with wisdom, smile as she told him “I love you”. The water in the cup swayed side by side with every step, occasionally spilling over the glass rim.
The door creaked as it slid to the side, and she stepped into the hospital room. The clock ticked, a steady beat of the passing time, and the heart monitor only hummed quietly in the background. A dull hum of life that was once there. Glass shattered as the cup slipped from her hand, watery tears pouring down hotly on her face. She was too late.
Too late to say "goodbye".
Even with all the times her father said "I love you"...
She never had the chance to say "I love you" back.