Sleep Well

Alex

I stared out the window of the hospital room. It was a dreary spring day, which was common, but I suspected the rain was God weeping. Not really. The weather suited the mood. I was trying to keep my emotions in check. I refused to show weakness. I hated showing weakness.

“You’re still here?” Oliver’s weak voice came from behind me.

I slowly turned and looked at the man lying in bed. He looked tired. I didn’t think he looked like a man on death’s door, but the doctors and nurses assured me that was the case. I was in awe of his strength. I had no idea he was sick. Yesterday when I had shown up to the house, he was still in bed. He politely asked me to drive him the twenty miles to the hospital.

Initially, I thought maybe he had the flu. He had just been on an airplane. Airplanes were nasty, germ-laden boxes. When he’d quickly been admitted with almost no questions asked, I realized something was wrong. It was all prearranged. It was like he was checking in at a hotel.

“I’m here, Oliver. I’m not going anywhere.”

He coughed. “Who’s running the farm?”

I laughed. “It’s raining. I’m not worried about planting right this minute. It will all hold.”

“Alex, I need you to promise me you will keep the farm running,” he said, a glimpse of the man I knew rising up. “That farm is my legacy. I don’t want it being sold off on an auction block.”

“You’ll be back home running the farm yourself,” I told him.

He chuckled. “That isn’t going to happen, and you know it.”

“Oliver,” I said, taking the seat next to his bed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I certainly didn’t want your pity. I hired you to do a job and you’ve done that. I’m impressed. I’ve made provisions to ensure you’ll be paid for as long as you stay on. I’m asking you to stick it out. I’ll have someone in there soon.”

I nodded. “You have my word. I won’t leave until I’m confident it’s going to be left in good hands.”

In the back of my mind, I wondered what he expected to happen. If he was gone and had no family, what did he need a farm for? I supposed his lawyer had the answers. It was none of my business. I would fulfill his wishes and move on. I was a bit of a rolling stone, never staying in one place for more than a few months.

He closed his eyes. I could see the man fading before my very eyes. I hated that I was the one that was there for him. I hated that the man was alone. He was such a good person. In my little fantasy world, he would have a big family surrounding his bed. They would be loud and raucous, little boys with skinned knees and little girls with cute little pigtails calling him grandpa.

I sat with him while he rested. It was another thirty minutes before his eyes opened and he looked at me. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“For?”

“For being here. For taking care of the farm. You’re a good woman, Alex. Don’t be so hard on yourself all the time.”

I smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He tried to smile but it ended up being nothing more than a tug at the corner of his lips. His eyes closed once again. He had requested no monitors, no beeping, nothing. He had a morphine drip that kept the pain at bay and kept him asleep most of the time.

I sat with him for another hour. Part of me knew he was gone, but I refused to acknowledge it. I wouldn’t leave until a nurse came in and confirmed what I suspected. My throat was raw as I fought back tears. I had known of Oliver for some time. He had been friends with my own grandfather, but I hadn’t really gotten to know him until the last month. I had come to think of him as my own grandpa and knew his death was going to leave a hole in my heart.

I stared out the window, watching the water droplets streak down the glass. It was representative of my heart. My heart wept. I heard the door open, followed by the soft soles of the nurse’s shoes.

“Hi,” she said in a low voice. “I’m just checking to see if he needs anything.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think he does.”

She looked at me, then Oliver, her expression softening. “I see,” she said.

I looked away while she did her thing.

“Take your time,” she said and walked out of the room.

They assumed I was a relative. Neither Oliver nor I had corrected the assumption. I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves, and got to my feet. I stood next to the bed, looking down at him. He looked peaceful, like he was enjoying the best nap ever. The pain I had seen on his face all week was gone.

“Goodbye, Oliver. I’ll take care of your farm. Sleep well, my friend.”