Burned

39

        "Dad, what're you writing?"

It was summer in Margate. Teddy, now five-years-old, had wandered into the little study. Louise and Alfie had to make a few adjustments to the cottage, adding an extension to make a little bit more room for the three of them and three dogs. Now Teddy had his own room and Alfie had a cozy office. Not that he had much paperwork to do anymore. But he liked overseeing finances and documents at a desk; it made him feel more like himself.

Alfie glanced up over his half-moon glasses. A small smile formed on his face. Teddy must've gotten bored with baking with Louise. "Writing a letter." He answered and beckoned his son over.

The young boy rounded the desk and crawled up onto Alfie's lap. "Why? Can't you just call 'em on the telephone?" He asked.

"You youngins and your technology." He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm writing a letter to you, mate."

"To me?" A funny look crossed Teddy's face as he looked up at his father. "Why? I'm right here."

Alfie put the paper aside and found the envelope he'd already pulled out. "See that?" He pointed to the words written on the front of the cream envelope. "Says it's addressed to Theodore Tovi Solomons." He read out, the tip of his finger tracing under each word so Teddy could follow along. "To be read on his eighteenth birthday."

Teddy frowned. "Eighteen? But that's a long ways away. That's 'lmost how old you are!" He exclaimed.

"Well, I'm flattered." Alfie smiled and tousled his hair. "But you'll hafta wait. Can't read it 'til then. See that, September sixteenth, 1944. That's the day you turn eighteen, innit?"

"That's like a million years away." He groaned. "Can't I just read it now?"

"Trust me, time goes a lot faster than you think. You'll be eighteen 'fore you know it and you'll be able to read it. F'ya read it now you'll just be bored."

Teddy sighed and rested back against Alfie. "Kay." He gave in. "What're we gonna do on my birthday?"

Alfie wished more than anything he could be there. But his cancer was ready to take him, he could feel it. Breathing was becoming more and more agonizing with each passing day. He was in constant pain and there was little to relieve it. Some parts of his skin looked like it was being eaten away.

"Whatever you want, Ted."

"It'll be fun. Birthdays are always fun. Mum makes me chocolate cake." Teddy rambled on, fiddling with the pen Alfie had left on the desk.

"Yeah, she does."

"You get me presents. Maybe when I'm eighteen you can get me a horse of my own." He beamed up at his father.

Alfie smiled and nodded. He was positive Louise would continue to spoil Teddy after he was gone. So giving him a horse wasn't too far fetched. "Sure."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although there wasn't much Alfie could do to alleviate his pain, he did enjoy the salt air. It might've just been psychological, but whenever he was out on the beach, he felt just a tad bit better. He could breathe easier and the sound of the waves could pull his thoughts away from the ache in his bones.

When they were at Margate, if Louise couldn't find Alfie in the house, she was guaranteed to find him outside. Down the dunes, past the pier, standing by the shore. Cyril by his side.