The Wasting

5-Alfred

Whispers at dawn startled Bell. Who is Mother talking to? Then her heart quickened. "Father! It's Father!"  She listened more intently, as if it were possible to open your ears like you widen your eyes. No, it's not Father, but it's a man. An older man. Grandfather Alfred! With all her might she tried to yell out to him, "Grandfather... Alfred... it's me! Your Lily Bell!" But her hoarse whispers didn't stand a chance against the fiery confrontation in the next room. Still, she attempted to pierce the muddled darkness.

Ella drew up her faded floral robe. "They're sleeping and you have no right to come here."

Alfred pleaded. "What do you mean I have no right? They are my granddaughters. Just because my son disappeared---"

"Disappeared?!" Ella was incredulous. "Do you mean my husband vanished? If indeed he vaporized into thin air, maybe I shouldn't be angry with him anymore?" said Ella, the queen of sarcasm.

Ella, why must you be so mean to dear Grandfather?

"Dear Daughter-in-law," Alfred coddled, "I didn't come here for a verbal debate, for I know it's one I could never win with you."

"Then why did you come?" Ella's knuckles turned white as she gripped the back of the faded paisley covered sofa. Alfred appeared older than when she had last seen him, but he was still as handsome as Peter. Peter, why did you leave us?

Bravely Alfred stood closer to her, taking off his cap, revealing  a full head of thick, white hair. He spoke softly, sincerely. "I came to see my girls." He rung the tweed grey cap in his weathered hands.

"Your girls?" Ella's sarcasm oozed. Replacing a black wisp of hair that dared to free itself from its proper place, she asked, "Why is it everyone seeks ownership of my children?"

"I consider you one of my girls too, Ella." He put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She yanked herself away to avoid his affections. "I'm not a girl and you are most inappropriate. When we last spoke I informed you we no longer needed your help or your company." She crossed in front of sofa and plumped the matching paisley pillows.

Izzy crawled into the room undetected. She was proud of her spy-abilities.

"What sin have I committed, Ella, save the sin of looking too much like my son? It's not my fault he abandoned you, and don't forget we've never ruled out foul play."

"Foul play? Certainly you're not holding on to that false hope!" Ella began to pace. The faster her heart raced the quicker her step.

To calm herself Izzy counted their words.

Alfred looked directly into the woman's dead coal-black eyes. "You'd prefer your husband was murdered to him merely running away?" Nervously he ran his weathered fingers through his snow white hair.

"Of course I would!  For then he wouldn't be the coward I see in my dreams! And you, with your constant excuses for your boy—for that's what he is, a mere boy who's afraid of his responsibilities. Our son dies, my hours are cut at the hospital... Finally his favorite daughter falls ill. He simply couldn't handle it."

Izzy's eyes widened and she whispered to herself, "Daddy never had favorites. Bell is your favorite mother—not daddy's."

Finally Ella's dissertation ended with Earth's most selfish question,  "Well, what about me?"

Izzy blinked three times.

"Ella, I'm not here to discuss you or my son. I hope to be of some help to Bell." He lowered his pitch. "I understand the doctor is only giving her a month to live."

"How beneath the pitiful earth did you get our private information? Bell's medical records are our personal business and under the strictest doctor-patient confidentiality rules! You conniving, unscrupulous old man! How dare you!" Peter, why did you turn me into this shrew? I used to be funny, and we would laugh so loudly we'd wake the children.

As Izzy crouched behind the worn brown easy chair she felt helpless. Her "idiosyncrasies" weren't working.  When she could no longer stand the grandpa bashing, she stood up. She gave credit for her sneak-ability to her new blue Nikes (which she'd worn all night.)

Izzy popped up and yelled, "Mother, stop it!" It was me, okay? I'm the one who told Grandfather about Bell. I thought he deserved to know. I snuck out last night and found him under the bridge—"

"—We'll deal with the rules of etiquette on eavesdropping later, young lady, but for now let's discuss family loyalty." Ella didn't wish to deal with her father-in-law's homelessness.

"But Grandpa Alfred is family. Bell and I love him."

Alfred's heart warmed.

"You have no idea what real love is, young lady. You are barely a teenager," retorted Ella.

"I'm fourteen--almost fifteen! And maybe I don't know much about romantic love—I agree with you there, Mother. But there's all sorts of love. There's the love of a father to her child—Bell and I are both daddy's favorites by the way!  There's the love of two best friends, a brotherly sort of love..." Once Izzy got started there was no stopping her.

"Izzy, I am not about to discuss the many gradations of love with you." She pointed one long bony finger.  "Now march back to your room and try not to wake your sister."

"Too late! She's the one who woke me, tapping on the wall. Bell alerted me of our visitor and your fighting. Bell wore herself out shouting to you two. In fact, Mother, why don't you get her a cool glass of water while I speak privately with Grandpa?" Izzy was pushing her luck a little too far this early in the morning.

Ella was speechless, and this very fact produced in her a "Humph!" and caused her to march out of the room. At one point she stopped, turned, and pointed her bony finger to object, but not a single syllable more was uttered. She left through the kitchen's swinging door and what followed was the sound of pouring water and a clanging pot. She was making tea. Ella always made tea when she was angry. She made a lot of tea.

-End of Chapter 5-

Author's note: I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Please vote, comment, follow and add The Wasting  to your library. If you've got a book you'd like me to check out—I'd be delighted.