Death's Apprentice

VIII

Tristan and Death came to Dolores' house once more the next morning. Dolores had complained of a headache the evening before. Mara decided it would be best for Tristan to leave her to rest for the night.

Tristan was excited to see Dolores again. She had been in a good mood and their conversation yesterday had made Tristan start thinking. He wanted to think more like her about things – about everything.

When Tristan walked into Dolores' room, he felt part of his delight escape him. Dolores seemed weak and tired. It appeared her rest had not repaired her overnight. Mara stood in the room looking over her daughter. She was as stoic as ever.

"Dolores isn't feeling well today. Perhaps she should not go outside, Doctor," Mara stated.

"Alright. Is she well enough for an examination?" Death began.

"I suppose," Mara knelt to Dolores, "Can Dr. Mortimer examine you?"

Dolores nodded and coughed slightly. She sat up in bed. Death did not ask Tristan to take over this examination much to Tristan's disappointment.

Death carefully took his notes as Dolores patiently waited. The old man scribbled his notes using the pen in his wrinkled hand.

Dolores laid back in bed, her head resting against the bed frame.

"I would still like Tristan to stay. It will be good for her to have some company still," Death addressed Mara. He then turned to Dolores.

"Do not let my assistant get in the way of your rest," he said winking at the girl.

Death escorted Mara out of the room. Tristan could hear their hushed voices outside.

"She is worried," Dolores said turning to face Tristan. He sat on the edge of her bed.

"Can you read to me again?" Dolores asked gesturing to the book on her table. It was a different one this time—Little Women.

Tristan pulled the book open and removed the silky bookmark. The words poured out of him as if he had memorized the lines. Tristan watched as Dolores sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap. She was at peace, but not the same as she was yesterday. Tristan continued reading.

"I like Meg and John," Dolores commented, "I would like to be like Meg,"

"Why?" Tristan asked, stopping his reading.

"She gets what she wants,"

"Her life is ordinary,"

"Perhaps, but she gets what she wants,"

"What do you want?"

Dolores looked Tristan in the eyes as if searching for something.

"I want...I want to be like this,"

"Ill?"

"No. I want peace. I want to stay here with you. It is peaceful. It is exactly what I want,"

Tristan felt himself grow warm again. Her words had a way of making him feel that way.

"What do you want?" Dolores asked looking at Tristan. She seemed amused.

"I want you to rest, so you can be healthy,"

"Then help me rest," Dolores said. She scooted over in the bed and pulled the blankets open. She patted the spot beside her. Tristan looked at her questioningly. She patted the spot beside her again.

Tristan stood up. He removed his jacket and shoes. He sat next to her and pulled his legs underneath the covers. Dolores looked up at him resting his back against the headboard. She scooted downwards in the covers and leaned against him.

"Is this alright?" Dolores said looking up at him.

Tristan had heard of cameras and what they could do, but he never had much interest in them until now. If he had a camera, he would have wished to capture this moment.

"Yes," he replied almost in a whisper.

Dolores leaned closer and Tristan picked up his arm. She curled beside resting on his chest. His arm lay enveloping her. She was warm. Tristan sighed.

He could feel Dolores lying still. Her breathing evened. Tristan was warm again and his eyes felt heavy. He finally understood what Dolores had meant when she said she wanted to stay like this.

"I want to be like this too," he whispered.