Fishman

Here Comes Papa Fish

Grandpa demands that I go straight to his house. As he's head of the family, I can't say no to him. His house isn't far from the train station. You can see the castle ruins from his bedroom window.

The outside of his house is beautiful, always covered in tulips. He's kept every ornament grandma has ever owned outside in his garden, even though he hated them. So he hides them under the flower beds. He says the Norwegian trolls keeps the thieves away.

Todd follows me into the house. He gags. "God, what is that smell?"

"Fishy isn't it?" I tell him. "Grandpa keeps a token of every woman he's slept with." His banister was covered in female underwear. He never gets rid of them either. Years of bacteria lurks on that staircase.

"That's gross."

"I guess that's why they call him Papa Fish in the clubs."

Grandpa's real name is Lucas Fishman. You wouldn't believe that he used to be a policeman with the way he acts now. If we stood next to each other, you wouldn't think we were related. His parents were Jamaican immigrants. He treasured this house because he was born in it.

"He's not your average grandpa," Todd says to me. "Kathleen said he was a handful, but I didn't expect anything like this."

"Grandpa?" I call him out.

"I'm in the kitchen."

We go in. He's in his aqua tuxedo and glittering boots. He whistles before sipping his cup of tea. "Help yourself to some snacks, gentlemen." He shows us the table covered in biscuit barrels and chocolate bars.

"Thanks," Todd says taking a Mars bar in his pocket.

"Sit down boys, we have lots to talk about."

"Like what?" I ask, even though I knew what he was going to say.

"Kathleen called me not so long ago. She said you tried you tried to kill yourself? What's wrong with you?" He looked over at Todd and shook his hand. "And thank you, I will always be grateful to you for saving my grandson."

"Kathleen's dead!" How many times have I said this? I've lost count. "You were there for her funeral."

"I never went to no funeral," Grandpa says back. "Now I'm fed up with burying my family. I lost my mum and dad, wife, my two children and all my brothers. I don't want my grandchildren to go before me as well."

"Grandpa..."

"See Bobby?" Todd exclaims. "If your granddad is saying she's still alive, then she must be."

"Have you really forgotten?" I ask Grandpa. Something's not right. He devours alcohol and drugs all the time, but he still functions. "Maybe we should take you to the doctors."

"Those pesky doctors," Grandpa slams his desk on the table. Todd pushes himself back against the fridge. "They'll do anything me put away."

"I'm sure that's not the case," Todd says. "The doctors only want to help."

Grandpa shakes his head and looks at me. "And you can tell the social services I shall not be going to any institution. I was born in this house, and I plan to die here."

"You're not going to any nursing home," I promise him. The promise is as empty as my wallet, but I hope it calms him down.

"Good!" Grandpa nods and downs his tea like he does with the drinks at the bar. "And you can them I shall not be going to any nursing home. I was born in this house and I plan to die here."

"He just said that!" Todd mutters.

"Sometimes I have to repeat myself to make sure the message goes through. And you can tell the social services that I shall not be going to any instructions. That includes the hospitals. And I do not need to go to a home. I've got my own home here." He points to the floor and taps his feet. He raises his voice. "I was born in this house and I plan to die here. In the comfort of my own bed."