He stared blankly at the fire, as its feathers extended, like a flower’s petals reaching for the afternoon sun. The boy clutched his blanket towards his chin. He extended the blanket up to his mouth, as his head bowed down. He lay sideward against the touch of a couple of stacked pillows. Outside, the chimney coughed its smoke towards the fluorescent light of the moon. It was a somber moment for Paul as he felt the cold of the night embrace him. He recalls the highlight of his day.
Earlier that day, Paul woke up to get ready for school. His eyes were dry and his throat felt congested. He could not get himself to enter the shower, the sprinkles felt like cold bits of sharp glass hitting his body. Paul decided to put on his dirty jeans and any shirt that was within his reach. He laced on his chucks and headed downstairs to the kitchen. His father was reading the paper, as he sat down at the breakfast table. Paul prepared his cereal. Then he put his arms on the table and rested his head upon them. His father was on the other side of the table minding his business with the newspaper.
His father spoke, “You missed the bus”. Then Paul checked his wrist watch, to see that he was running late. He took a spoonful of his cereal, but he didn’t like it. His appetite was not there. Paul replied to his father “I know. Can you drop me off papa?” his father didn’t answer. Paul felt awkward and for a moment his anxieties centered on whether his father was disappointed in him or not. Paul called out “Pa?” His father answered in a somewhat disgruntled tone, “next time you should be more responsible.” Paul acknowledged that answer as a ‘yes’ to his question. He thought he owed his father the responsibility that he wanted from him. His father ended up married to his work, a single parent who was forced to surrender his aspirations at an early age. Paul thought, “I owe him that… I owe him more.”
But he was feeling under the weather. He felt the chills from his limbs coming inward to his torso. His movements were shaky, like a baby antelopes’ legs when it first uses them. His eyes were closing. His mind was fighting hard to escape the temptation of sleep. As a consequence of reflex, his palms hit the table top, making a sudden thump. He opened and closed his eyes in succession. His father heard the thump, and moved his newspaper aside to glance at his son for the first time this morning. His father asked in a calm but curios tone, “Is everything alright son?” His father stood up, placed the paper at the table and walked to Paul’s end. His father frisked his neck. His father said, “I think its best that you stay in today. You don’t look so well.” Paul nodded and went to his bed. After 15 minutes his father followed him upstairs carrying a food tray. He bought Paul a bowl of chicken soup and juice. “Here” his father said, “before you eat, I’ll take your temperature”, as he put the thermometer in Paul’s mouth. His father voiced “I’ll be right back” as he exited the room.
Paul felt nervous. He was going to miss a test in math and an important discussion in science today. He hoped that Ms. Umers would understand. Paul’s father always taught him to bring home good grades, but for the past semester he has been performing poorly in school. He was distracted. His father came in the room after a few minutes. Took the thermometer, raised it up and put it against the light to see the mercury. He whispered, “100.4”, and then he gave Paul a pat in the chest and said “You’re going to be fine. Finish your food.”
After Paul finished his soup, he went downstairs to the living room and sat in front of the fireplace. And he stayed there until day became night and as wood bore fire. He stared at that fireplace for hours, looking puzzled. He stared blankly at the fire, as its feathers extended, like a flower’s petals reaching for the afternoon sun. The boy clutched his blanket towards his chin. He extended the blanket up to his mouth, as his head bowed down. He lay sideward against the touch of a couple of stacked pillows. Outside, the chimney coughed its smoke towards the fluorescent light of the moon. It was a somber moment for Paul.
His father approached him, “Son what’s wrong? You’ve been sitting here for hours…”
Paul just stared at the fire, with a troubled gaze.
His father anchored an arm around him, as if a friend, and called out “Paul?” Paul replied “I’m going to die pa”. His father asked “What do you mean?” Paul didn’t answer. His father asked again, “Paul what do you mean?”
Paul confessed “The other day, kids at school were talking about fevers. They said a fever that was above 40 degrees was life-threatening… Mine is 100.4.” Paul cringed and fought the tears, “I’m surely dead… I sat here thinking of things that I’m gonna miss.. Things I wanted to do… I accept my fate papa.”
His father smiled at his innocence. The father’s abrupt panic became sweet enamored relief. Then his father explained the difference between Fahrenheit and Celsius. Paul’s professed ‘last day’ became the first of so many more.
That day he took a small step into a bigger world. When he gets older, he would discover that he never felt more alive than the day he thought he was going to die.
