I. Pater

Peter, who may also be called Luke, set out before dawn with haste towards the hospital where on some future day he will gasp his last of God’s good air. That day would come like all days will come, but for now there is a sooner dying to which Peter-Luke must attend, for today was marked in his calendar as the day on which his beloved father, Peter, or was it Luke, would pass from this world and be raised to heaven like a soup-smeared napkin plucked from the ground and carefully folded neatly on the table for a passing waiter to see and attend to but don’t cause a fuss if they don’t this is a nice restaurant isn’t it yes darling would the couple like to see the dessert list why not let’s be cheeky go on then let’s see the puddings

let’s

  be

    a

  little

cheeky.

Luke, yes, it is Luke, we certainly from here forward mean Luke, son of Peter, had left his house and the containing village by way of the river which winds its way west through vale and valley for miles and miles and miles. He strolled with purpose, unmoved by the river’s grandeur, its majesty, its splendour, only to realise he had forgotten his briefcase which contained the papers which were required by law and without which he would not be able to mourn his father Peter because the papers would be missing without signature, without stamp, without tax, without the

            n e c e s s i t i e s.

So, while Luke retraced his steps in terrible fret and frustration, the river’s grandeur remained neglected. But the river did not despair. It was cheered by the thought that all passes, all passes, and oozed on as it had for many years. The long view, they call it, comforting to some, such as a nearby fox drowning slowly in a tangle of reeds, but easily neglected by one such as Luke, who was, shall we say, preoccupied.

Luke again set out along the river with briefcase now in hand to see the patient he had come, at some stage, to know as his father, a father who was dying and, he was told a year ago to the day, would die in a year. Today was the day! Luke had carefully marked it on his calendar, which he was always careful to mark with events he knew were vital to the working of the world.

            20th

          Farewell to papa

  

            21st

            Bins

Sweet, solid Luke arrived at the hospital and asked with all the prostrate obsequiousness of the soon-to-be-bereaved where he could find his father. A small, plump nurse gave up this information without trouble (thanks, no doubt, to Luke’s charming prostration). Third floor. Room 223. The rotund nurse asked if Luke needed directions, but Luke could not help but fixate on the auburn nose hair curling out of the nurse’s left nostril. A providential sign if ever there was one, which Luke took to heart with gusto. Worry not, my good man! I know the path I seek! He turned with a flourish and began to accelerate but, all too late, realised left was taking him east, straight out of the hospital’s doors. He collided with a gurney laden with offal that two delusional paramedics were still taking for treatment.

Recovering from this premature encounter with human remains, not to mention the sharp, sudden light of sunrise, Luke attempted to enter the building again and uncover directions. The small, plump nurse had been replaced by two tall, thin nurses of about the same volume as the previous, single specimen. They had in front of them each a patient in a wheelchair, one with broken neck and arms, the other broken spine and legs. Satisfied with the completeness of the scene, Luke calmly navigated a second asking for directions, which provided more concrete means for finding his way. Ten strides to the right, take the lift, head left down the corridor, you won’t miss it.

          Giveth, taketh.

To Luke’s utter, total and not to mention complete horror, he arrived in room 223 to his father fast asleep. Was his father not aware that this was the day on which his son had come to see him die? Worse still, as he came closer to the still warm, warm and still form of Peter the father, Luke realised to his despair that the hospital bastards had covered his poor father in all manner of wiring and machinery. They were trying to keep him alive! Alive! On this day of all days! Did they not know? Had they not been informed by the men at the bureau or was it the company or maybe the bank that his father would die today and his son would sign several forms making it so?

Gripped briefly with terror, Luke soon surmised that he would need to take matters into his own hands.

Having chosen and liberated the larger of two empty wheelchairs parked carelessly in the corridor, Luke lifted his father from his bed and placed him in the vehicle. Luke moved Peter delicately, taking great care to remove the horrible wires and obstructive breathing tube which might extend the man’s life beyond this day so sanctioned in the official ways. Humming his Delius as he worked di didi dum, di di dum, dum dum, di didi dum, di di dum, dum dum Luke made his father comfortable and wheeled him out of room 223 away from those deadly life machines.

They reached the ground floor and, remembering the auburn nose hair, Luke turned hard left out of the hospital. Standing for a moment, caught in the ecstasy of it all, Luke allowed himself to bathe in the light of the sun with his dying father free to die at last. Then he was overcome with panic. He had saved his father for his dying, but where should it take place? The dread of not knowing delayed him for a moment. Then, he knew. He required the sea.

II. By Water

The sky is all bruises. The clouds look like shredded charcoal. Earlier, I had just started to doze when the first click-clacks of rain pattered on the corrugated roof. I’m glad I fitted the roof, even more so once I realised that the irregular sound of water on metal contained in it such sweet music. Occasionally I find the sound overwhelming, and I weep. My tears roll to the floor and mingle with the rain that sometimes seeps through the ceiling. Every so often, I think about our hut flooding. Our whole world will fill with water and we’ll begin to float, bobbing up and down. This little metal tomb will become a beacon of life. An ark for a world found wanting. I’ll only bring one of every animal, though. And father.

I haven’t always lived here, down by the shoreline. I used to live somewhere else, up near the trees. I could walk and run and sit among the oaks. Father would watch me go out the door. He watches me still, though it is the stillness rather than the watching that preoccupies him now. There were a few people, here and there, near the oaks, who would smile at me without prompt, and I would bare my teeth back at them, pulling up the edges of my mouth with only a little strain. I have never been able to decide if returning a smile is a form of placation or submission. One of the two most certainly. Or is it one predator mirroring another? Eventually, any which way, one must back down from a smile.

Sometimes, when I walked in the hills, I’d see this shoreline. I did not know it then that this is where we would find our shelter, of course, though if I had done little would have changed. I might have taken a few more personal comforts with me. A second pillow. Sharing it with father face-to-face at night will be difficult when it is humid. It’s lucky I have the rain music, the clicks and clacks and then the torrent of notes as the water rushes down the roof onto the upturned boat outside the window. I gaze at the ocean. The intricate tick of the lapping tide.

I imagine that one morning soon I will see a distant shape, a freckle on the horizon. It will come closer. Perhaps it carries traders, coming to bargain with us. I might buy furs or tinned food. I can offer them little, but I will offer all the same. Perhaps they will want the papers. Perhaps they will make it all official, bring it to a close. They might bring music. I do not want music. I hope they bring music.

III. Report

Police were shocked today to find a young man and his comatose father living in a makeshift hut by the beach. The man, identified as Luke [REDACTED], and his father, Peter, were discovered in the early hours of the morning. Though an official statement has yet to be made, it is likely that Peter is the elderly patient reported missing from [REDACTED] Hospital. Attempts to ascertain why the two men were living on the shoreline in such squalid conditions have been unsuccessful. When asked to comment on why he brought his father to the sea in such a fragile state, Mr [REDACTED] replied, ‘Oh, to get away from it all, old duck, to get away from it all.’