Incandescence

14: Promises, Promises

Something hardens in Daniel's expression at the mention of this Thomas person. It's gone in an instant, however, as he addresses the man again. "I brought you something, Pa," he says, handing over the little bag. "Wine gums. Just don't tell the nurses, alright, or they'll have me banned from the ward."

"No worries. It'll be our little secret." He chuckles silently, takes the bag from Daniel's hands and opens it up, pulling out one of the chewy sweets and subtly popping it in his mouth. "Where is Thomas, anyway? He's not been over to visit since . . . well, now I think of it, I don't think he's been over at all."

Daniel surveys the white tiled flooring, as though he can't look the man – who I'm assuming must be a grandfather of some sort – in the eye. "I told you last time, Pa: Thomas is gone."

At the mention of these words, an unearthly silence fills the air in the room. I feel awkward, just standing here and listening to this private exchange. It's like when you're on a bus and the person seated in front has their phone out – you can't help but listen in, yet you feel bad for doing so at the same time. Above the man's bed a silver framed clock is pinned to the wall, the time reading 8.05. Just another twenty-five minutes left of visiting hours. Maybe I should abandon this scene and return to Erik's ward.

I'm about ready to bring this up when the curtain is pushed aside again, and a young male nurse walks in. The man hides the bag of sweets and sighs. "Not again, Jacob."

The nurse – Jacob – smiles wanly. "Sorry, Samuel, but you've gotta take your medication if you wanna get better."

Old Samuel scoffs and looks at Daniel. "You see what I have to put up with on a daily basis, son? We all know I won't be leaving this godforsaken hospice again till they're shoving me in a hole in the ground. Ain't that right, Jacob?"

I'm certain Jacob must want to agree – because he believes it too, for one, and then also to shut Samuel up – but he simply smiles again, a mere melancholy tilt of the lips this time. "Well, we'll see. I wouldn't be so certain yet – you've still got some fight left in you."

"Mm. Do they pay you to sweet-talk us all up?"

Jacob brushes off the comment and strides over to the IV hooked to Samuel's arm, saying apologetically to Daniel, "Sorry to barge in like this – he's due his meds."

"It's cool," he replies, standing up and grabbing his backpack from the floor. "I couldn't stick around much longer anyway." To Samuel, he says, "I'll be back later on this week, Pa. Listen to Jacob for once and don't give him any hassle, yeah?"

Samuel chuckles, amused at the thought. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to boss me around, son."

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta." We're safe out of earshot when he tacks on, "And it looks like no one else is willing to."

The leering man from before is gone, the hallway outside ward eighty-seven empty bar one lone doctor, who is busy looking through a thick ring binder. I should leave, find Lena, say goodbye to Erik before it's time to go. Only I haven't moved yet.

"Your friend," Daniel says. "He's the one you mentioned the other day, isn't he? The one you said was–"

"Dead," I finish, hating the way my voice shakes when the word leaves my mouth. I know I can't just leave it at, but do I really want to dig myself an even greater grave? "Only . . . he's not."

Apparently, yes.

"I'll pretend that made sense. You mean he's a ghost, don't you? But I didn't think you could see –"

"He's not a ghost." Ghosts – just another thing I'll shove in a drawer for later. "Believe me, he's definitely solid matter. He's . . . I don't know how to explain it. Undead. Like a zombie, I guess."