A Visit from Death – Episode 2

Within ten minutes there was a rattling at the door.
‘Come,’ called Jack. What would have been thinly veiled excitement under normal circumstances, in this case could do no better than to be entirely veiled, if not sheathed.

Death shuffled into the room and looked up as he drew back the black hood from his head.

There was a look of melancholy nostalgia in his watery eyes and a sad straightness to his dry lips. He removed his black raincoat, stepped forward uncomfortably to the bedside chair at Jack’s left hand, sat and crossed his legs.
‘Hello, Jack,’ he said. His voice was warm but raspy, like velvet being dragged over gravel.
‘Death, old boy. How I’ve looked forward to your visit.’ This was a rare example of genuine intimacy from Jack. He knew it (and knew that Death had acknowledged it, too) and started slightly, with the unfamiliar feeling of vulnerability. Furthermore, Death gave the impression of grave determination; of purposefulness. All of this gave Jack a strange sense of both reassurance and foreboding.
‘How are you? You look terrible,’ said Death.
‘Ah, charming,’ replied Jack, only half hurt. ‘You never did have a way with words.’
‘Maybe I’ve finally taken some of your advice: speak plainly and people might actually pay attention.’
Jack was stunned with confusion. If he had ever felt the need for sympathy then Death would have been the only one of his friends who could have supplied it. But Jack had never felt that need. Not until now, and Death just stared him in the face.
There was a brief hiatus in conversation in which two or three beeps sounded on the heart monitor in otherwise total silence. Jack had never felt lonelier than in that moment. Then a grin lifted one end of Death’s lips; he stood, extended his hand and said,
‘I’ve missed you, Mr. Peacebolt.’
A painful chuckle escaped Jack’s chest and he slowly took Death’s hand. Death clasped his other hand around that, and they both gripped tightly.
‘And I, you,’ replied Jack. He took in a relatively large breath and held it for a second, unable to think quite how to phrase what he was about to say. ‘And, y’know, I’m…I’m…’
‘I know. And it’s fine,’ interrupted Death. ‘I’m not here to hear you say that, and you know it.’
‘Well, yes. Anyway, you’re a little early, dear boy. My Doctor’s say I’ve another couple of days. Just enough time to meet my replacement: my first great-grandchild. Lindsay, my granddaughter, is calling him Jack,’ beamed the proud Great-Grandfather-to-be.
Death let go of Jack’s hand, drew the chair closer towards the bed and sat down.
‘Yes, I’ve heard. And I’m here, Jack, I’m here because…’ he said with grave sincerity, before he was interrupted by a rather lively exclamation from his bed bound friend.
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