A collection of short stories in which the root of their love is simultaneously the harbinger of their demise. Because the risque of the heart's desires is often found embedded in the knife jutting through it.
"...you're writing style is top-notch...
Hospitals might've been boring for some, but for James Parker, there was never a dull moment. Between seeing his grandchildren every week and hitting on the nurses (as a man with a full head of grey hair, he felt it was his duty) there was always something or someone to look forward to. But happiness in hospitals never lasted long. It dies with the people and weakens with the medicine. James Parker now knew that too.
That was why his grandkids stopped visiting and the nurses tended to the other patients. No one had to tell him what would come next.
"Hey, look at me," Hannah said, her face as wrinkle-free as the day she was born. "The nurses aren't looking for a sugar daddy."
James Parker smiled. "Wanna bet on that?" Truth is, he didn't even recognize his voice and neither did Hannah. It was low and croaky, but neither of them mentioned it, of course. She laughed, and in turn, so did he.
Every month, Hannah brought in a new painting, each more hopeful than the last, from a sunrise to a small island from the perspective of a large cruise ship. But over time, the colours got cooler; but James never mentioned it.
Now, the paintings stood all around his room, hung up and sitting in chairs just for them. "Promise me you'll sell these when I'm dead."
"Dad-"
"You can call the collection: 'World's Finest Man'." James looked to the ceiling, it was all his body allowed him to do these days and some part of him trembled.
Hannah didn't smile or smirk when she said, "Damn right."
Silence followed, the anxious kind that no one ever wants to break for fear of whatever may be on the other side. The crippling kind. The dangerous kind.
James Parker looked at his daughter and smiled. He smiled because his life began with her and it would end the same. He smiled because he did it: he raised her all on his own and did a damn good job. He smiled because he loved her. He took her hand in his, an action that took more time and effort than it should've, and squeezed. A tear escaped his eyes. But it wasn't out of misery or sadness, it was for the opposite, and he squeezed harder to make sure she knew that.
And like an immediate response, water built up in Hannah's eye.
In that moment, it all felt worth it. Giving up painting, Ming dropping out. None of it mattered. None of it was as beautiful as this. As Hannah.
So James Parker's heart skipped a beat. Out of joy, relief, happiness and all things beautiful. Then it skipped again. And again. It wasn't until the fifth time that James Parker realized he was dying.
The heart rate monitor next to him was erratic but James paid it no mind, he blocked out that thing ages ago. Instead, he focused on his grip with his daughter, pouring the last of his strength into it, forcing her to not break eye contact with him.
And just as how he'd have it, the last thing James Parker saw was Hannah. And although she wasn't smiling and happy, she was there. And that was beautiful.
Author's Note
One part left! Wow wow wow. What a journey it's been. Readers, don't forget to vote if you enjoyed this part and comment telling me what you thought (especially about James' death RIP) because the For My Beloved series comes to a close NEXT SATURDAY. *sobs*
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