Hospice

Sebastian

"Get me some decent food," his mother demanded. "These hospital meals are shite."
"Yes, Mum."
"And pick up something actually good this time, for God's sake."

Ominis made his way to the cafeteria down the hall, leaving his mother to lounge in bed and watch television. He didn't know what she wanted exactly. Not that it mattered. She would probably be unhappy with his choice regardless, but he waited in line while reading over their only braille menu.

The cafeteria had pretty much the same things his mother got three times a day, with only a few exceptions. He chose a wrap she hadn't tried before—chicken, lettuce, and tomatoes with ranch sauce. Maybe that would be good enough. He asked for a couple tins of fruit and a tuna sandwich for himself. It was hardly filling, but enough for a couple hours.

When he got back to the room and his mother took a bite from her wrap, she grumbled.

"Crappy cold chicken. Figures, I give you a simple task and you manage to muck it all up."
"Sorry, Mum."

He ate his food quietly, listening to her mutter about how much she despised his food choice, and how the smell of his tuna sandwich was turning her stomach. Over the years—perhaps due to her illness, perhaps due to her personality—she'd only gotten worse and snippier with him.

His keen ears caught wind of a commotion down the hall, which his mother seemed not to hear beyond the sound of her television. Rushing nurses, hurried orders, confusion and fear—

Then silence.

He waited, and heard sobbing. Someone must've passed. Curious, he headed out.

"The hell are you going?" his mum asked.
"Bathroom," he said.

He went down the hall, opposite the previous chaos and toward where the old men had gathered. It was lunch, meaning they wouldn't turn up for another 10 minutes or so, but Ominis figured he could wait. So he sat on the long, uncomfortable couch. A nurse walked by and he resisted the strong urge to read her mind.

Minutes later, the sound of hobbling and heavy steps lumbered to their usual meet-up. They came from all sides, grumbling and sniffling and coughing.

"Yo, Phil!" called one from across the room. Ominis came to know him as Tony. "Ya hear all that commotion down your way?"
"It was Betty, wudinit?" asked Marcus.
"No, no," said Phil. "It was Jerald. Poor old coot."

The couch dropped as Phil took his usual spot, and the others gathered about as well. A hand clasped Ominis' shoulder.

"You all right, kid?" asked Phil.
"Yes, sir," he said.
"Balls of steel on this little man," said Richard. "Looks like you won the pot, too."

Everyone paid up, and Phil counted out the money before handing it to Ominis. An odd glow of pride washed over him as he pocketed his gains, and as the men sang his praises for winning and being unfazed by Jerald's death. He didn't really understand why he felt like he was walking on air that day.

He took that money up to a nearby vending machine later that evening. He felt the machine to locate its braille. The slow-going process filled him with anticipation as he found a favorite treat for his mother—a cheese Danish. He ordered that and chocolate covered pretzels for himself then two lemonades before jogging back to his room with his hands full. The Danish and pretzel bags set clamped in his teeth so he could use a free hand on his cane. A passing nurse offered help, but he shook his head and kept hurrying down the corridor.

Once in his room, he set his cane aside and held out the Danish.

"Look, Mum! They had one of your favorites in the vending machine!" He approached the bed and handed it to her.
"Thanks, Ominis. That's very thoughtful."

He beamed and handed her the lemonade, too. For once, she ate in silence, filling Ominis with pride at being able to assuage his mother. It helped him sleep easier that night, his chest swelling with hope for his future.

The next day, however, was more of the same. His mother complained and thought nothing was good enough. Nothing from the menu was appetizing and nothing the nurses did was ever done right. When Ominis set his cane aside to help his mother stand up, he accidentally knocked over her television tray.

"Be careful where you're going!" she demanded. "Can't you just walk without destroying everything?"
"Sorry, Mum."
"Just help me to the bathroom without killing us both."
"Okay..."

Later that evening, he sat around making more death bets. He read the mind of a passing nurse.

'Poor Fritz is on his way out, I think. His heart can't take much more.'

"10 dollars on Fritz," he said.
"Fritz?" Phil asked. "You insane, Ominis? That guy's as strong as a bull, there's no way."
"I stand by my bet."

The whole gang laughed.

"You're sumthin' else!" said Richard.
"Glad we asked the little dude to join us," said Marcus. "He's a hoot and a half!"

Ominis grinned. This crowd wasn't one he'd expected to enjoy, but being so included and heard was an undeniable perk.

As the days passed, Ominis thought maybe the nurse had been wrong about Fritz, but before the time limit of the week was up, Fritz, too, perished. Ominis earned his winnings, and used some of it to reward himself and his mother with the vending machine food that same evening.

He heard someone walk up behind him. Their presence felt small, like someone around his age.

"What do you recommend?" asked the boy. "I hate pretty much everything on the top row."
"I don't even know what's on the top row. I can't reach it."
"So? Can't you read?"
Ominis held out his cane. "No."
"Oh. Sorry."
"It's all right."
"Well, you're not missing anything. Animal crackers, wheat thins, cracker-crackers—yuck!" The boy made a dramatic retching noise.

Ominis smiled as he got his usual and took his change. He moved aside to the sodas to let the boy get his food.

"I'm Sebastian," said the boy. "Here with my sister and our uncle."
"I'm Ominis. I hope your uncle is okay."
"Oh no, it's my sister, Anne. She's really ill."
"I'm very sorry, Sebastian."
"Yeah, but she'll be okay. I don't think we'll be here for all that long—she'll bounce back, I just know it!"
"I'm sure she will," Ominis agreed, collecting his lemonades. "Get the chocolate covered pretzels. They're one of my favorites."
"Thanks!" said Sebastian with a huge grin clear in his voice.