Headlights

Grubb, Ben. "Australian Government Offers $50m toward Bionic Eye Effort."ITnews. Nextmedia, 2 June 2009. Web. 23 Jan. 2015

"Peach rings?"

"Yes of course, peach rings!" He had once told me. "When I was just about your age, I used to sit on the edge of the sidewalk for hours, scraping the pit of the peach against the floor until it was perfectly round. Then, I just took out the inside of the pit and voila! I had myself a perfect peach ring."

He was the only person I wanted to talk to as we sat in the living room of my grandparents' apartment; I could sit and listen to him tell me stories for hours. My grandfather was not one for great speeches, he was in fact a fairly quiet man; but with me it was different. He always talked to me.  

***

We arrived to the intensive care unit of the Otamendi Hospital.

"How old is she?"

"16."

I looked down and tried to hide my face, as if the young nurse were to see right through my father's white lies and into my real age. She looked at me suspiciously. I am sure she knew from the start that I was in fact younger than I claimed. She looked back into the empty corridor, then back at us; she sighed.

"Follow me."

My father knew exactly where the room was, but that day was really not the day for discussions. The corridor was dead silent, ironically. My feet felt heavy as we walked down the crystal clean, white hallway. I clutched my left fist as hard as I could. It was freezing. I looked up at my father, his expression unstirred, anyone who did not know him would think he was just buried deep in thought; but unfortunately, his eyes told me otherwise. The usual radiant, grayish-blue color was now washed away by countless days of sorrow. His look was empty, vacant.

We stopped at a pristine white door with a golden handle on it. Disregarding its spotlessness, the door seemed rather uninviting, perhaps because of what it was holding inside. Hesitatingly, the nurse turned the handle and slowly opened the door to a regular sized hospital room, a white rectangular bed, and my grandfather.

"You all have the same eyes" said the nurse, with a tone of compassion in her voice. She then turned around and left the same way we came in, shutting the white door behind her.

We sat beside the bed in a complete silence that was only interrupted by the intermittent beeping sound of the machines monitoring his heart. Suddenly, without a warning, my grandfather opened his eyes. They were two beams of blue light, like two headlights, pouring onto every corner of the room and drenching us in that warmth I had yearned for so long. The medics said his look was due to the morphine, but I knew that not even a tidal wave of analgesics and sedatives could produce that gaze; it was something different, more abstract. I felt a weight lifting off my shoulders when I realized that this was the first time I saw my grandfather, I wouldn't say happy, but at peace. The two headlights that had first illuminated the wall opposite the bed slowly turned my way, scanning me all over and finally resting on my own eyes. I don't know how much time passed until I felt the urgency to be with my grandfather, alone; I knew this was the last time. As my father left the room I could feel my heart beating inside my head, I took a deep breath. I opened my left hand, which I was clutching so hard, to reveal a small, brown ring. It was not nearly as glamorous as my grandfather had described it; but it was the best I could do. I looked at the hands which had once held me up and close to his chest that now lied defeated by his sides; I took his delicate hand and, without saying a word, slowly slipped the peach ring onto his pinkie finger. The tracheotomy had taken away his speech, but as he laid eyes on the small circlet, he raised his right hand and I felt the warmth of his touch on my cheek, I looked into his kind and welcoming face and I knew exactly what he wanted to say. And as he slowly put his hand down again, the lights went off and I heard a single, long, and interminable beep.