That Easy and Other Short Stories ✔

Licorice Pieces

"Room 201," the nurse said, "is down that hallway. It'll be the first door to your right."

"Thank you."

I continued down the hallway, my wooden soles clicking against linoleum floor. Sobs were coming from one room, two middle-aged women were waiting outside another, one of them holding a large teddy bear. The lady holding the stuffed toy smiled at me as I passed, and I noticed she had bags under her eyes, upside-down purple moons painting the skin.

When I reached Room 201, the white door was ajar. I paused. The room was quiet save for the gentle murmur of the television, an advertisement for shampoo currently playing.

I pushed gently on the door, widening the gap between it and the frame by only a few millimetres. "Hello?"

Silence.

Taking the silence and open door as an invitation to enter, I stepped inside the white-washed room. To my left, a man lay under the pale blue comforter, asleep. I couldn't tell whether he or the blanket was paler, and my first instinct was to turn around and rush out, afraid I'd walked into the wrong room. Despite his ghostly appearance and thinning hair, the the man resting in the hospital bed was definitely my uncle.

Hands trembling, I turned back around to leave.

"Did you find the room okay?" the nurse from earlier asked as I passed her in the hallway.

"Yes— he's just sleeping."

The nurse smiled at me, nodding in understanding, before continuing down the hallway.

When I got home I slipped out of my boots and tucked them into the coat closet before heading upstairs. Once in the comfort of my room, I hastily removed my coat and tossed it onto my bed, my head crowded with images of sick children and dying patients.

What I needed now was something to take my mind off things. Something that would distract me from the cruelness of sickness. An escape.

Yanking open my closet doors, I crouched down and reached toward the very back until I found the orange storage container in the very far corner. I slid it toward me, and the lid clicked when I pried it off.

It took me a few moments to find the blue journal. The leather cover was soft under my chilled fingers, and I opened it carefully as I fell back onto the wooden floor and crossed my legs, resting the book in my lap.

I had just started reading entries I'd written during my trip to Europe— a graduation gift from my grandparents— when something falling to the floor piqued my attention. Crawling forward to inspect the object, I discovered it the package of liquorice I'd purchased in Germany just over one year ago. I reached for it, the thick plastic encasing the candies crinkling and making a crunching noise as I turned it around in my hands.

Unraveling the black twist tie, I selected one of the hard candies and popped it into my mouth. Running my tongue over its smooth surface, a bitter taste filled my mouth. I remembered purchasing them. It was a hot summer's day and I'd bought them for my grandfather, along with some jam for my grandmother. When I returned home, my grandfather insisted I give them to my uncle instead, since I'd forgotten to get him something. My grandfather said he'd enjoy the jam I'd given to my grandmother, that they would share it.

But I didn't like that idea. I'd chosen the candies knowing they were my grandfather's favourite. Didn't he know that? Besides, my uncle hated sweets. Why should I waste perfectly good liquorice on someone who wouldn't appreciate it.

Tears welling in my eyes, I tucked away my journal and returned the bin to its spot in my closet. Then I placed the bag of liquorice and my coat on the chair by my desk before getting ready for bed.

The next day, I returned to the hospital. Even though I got there early, a couple of my uncle's friends were visiting when I arrived, and I waited outside his room until they left. Exchanging quick hellos with them, I stepped inside the room.

"Jemma."

"Hello," I said, forcing a smile.

"I didn't expect to have so many visitors today. My neighbours just left and... Well, sit down. There's a chair over there," he said, pointing toward the window next to his bed, in front of which there was a burgundy seat.

I crossed the room and sat down, placing my backpack beside my feet. On the adjacent wall, the T.V. was broadcasting the news.

"Anything good on T.V. today?"

"Oh— just the usual sad stories," he started before continuing to give me a detailed description of all the tragedies that had struck the globe over the past twenty-four hours.

As he recounted the gruesome events, there was a knock on the door. One of the nurses.

"I can come back later," she notified us, beginning to retreat from the room.

"You probably have a strict schedule," my uncle started.

Before things got any more complicated, I jumped in. "That's okay— I can just come back tomorrow." Before leaving I remembered the package of candies in my bag. I pulled them out and placed them on the table in the corner of the room, where a variety of non-perishable food items lay. "I brought you some liquorice."

"Liquorice," he stated as the nurse came inside. "I haven't had any in years. Used to be my favourite."

I smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The days passed quickly, and my uncle's condition worsened. While I made an effort to visit as much as possible, school limited the amount of visiting time I had to evenings and weekends, which happened to be when everybody else was free as well, so I didn't get to see my uncle as much as I would have liked those last few weeks.

When the news came that my uncle had passed, I had just finished stepped out of an examination room. The call came from my grandfather.

It turned out my uncle hadn't been able to eat those last few days, since I'd brought him the candies. While it was such a silly thing, it meant so much to me that he get to try what was once his favourite treat growing up. And because I hadn't just given it to him in the first place, he'd never had the chance.

It had been too late.

But trying to cram everything into the last few weeks of a lifetime was impossible. Maybe life wasn't about the last moments but about all the moments in between. It was about so much more than a happy ending, but all the happy moments that led to that ending. I decided then and there that I wasn't going to take for-granted my time with anyone else. I knew now the value of understanding and acceptance.

After all, it was always just a silly bag of liquorice candies.