Andy

Picture: Onnys Aho

The dining hall was empty save for a single occupant who sat snoring peacefully before the large windows which let in the mellow autumn afternoon sunshine, that streamed down upon the old man in golden streaks. Dust particles played around in that resplendent light and alighted upon the old man's face, but he did not stir. His slumber seamed so peaceful that even an earthquake could not wake him. "Is that him over there?" inquired the young man of the matron at the entrance to the dining hall. "Yes sir" replied she "Shall I wake him for you?" she finished "Don't bother, ma'am" came the young man's voice so coolly that it seemed to melt in the air as it left his lips.

The youth then turned on his heels and made his way toward the elderly man who slept by the window. His footfalls so soft upon the freshly polished wooden floor that they sounded like light rain falling upon a pane of glass like a whisper. His stride so graceful, that it resembled the elegance of a swan upon the water streaming across the hall toward the man that had altered his young life. His crisp linen dress shirt rustled softly as he approached the old man where he beheld the back of his head. The shape of which they both shared.

 The young man's pulse quickened as he crept ever closer to this man who had been the cause of so much of his anguish, that the youth felt his blood boiling beneath his skin. He took a deep breath, calming his beating heart, and turned to face the old man. The latter hadn't noticed the visitor, and kept at his slumber with his chest rising and falling like the mild ebb and flow of a current. The youth's eyes washed over the old man's face with such intensity that if his pupils were books, one could easily discern within those deep pools of brown, the scars and hurt that swam beneath their surface. A moment passed thus, before these two wells overflowed and spillt  thin streaks of  tears that chased each other down his youthful cheeks. Biting his lip to keep the tears at bay, the youth whispered: "Bevan". The elderly man stirred as he recognized the voice of a child that he hadn't heard for close to two decades. Blinking, he opened his wrinkled eyelids and beheld before him a boy, no, man, that resembled himself so much, that it shook him from his daze.

"Andrew?!" said the old man, his cloudy eyes moving frantically over the youth's face. "My name is Andy!" replied the young man, his voice turning to ice. "Oh my dear boy!" said the old man, sitting up in his wheelchair, lifting his hand up to his boy's face in an attempt to caress it. Andy swatted it away gently and replied:"Don't call me that!" Andy felt a sudden surge of anger rush through his body that caused him to shudder as one would on a cold winter's morning. He gathered himself and announced: "I came to say goodbye father" He said, straightening his body. His skin glowing like gold, with his bushy hair glistening in the afternoon sun that fell on his erect back. 

"And to thank you!" Andy finished, as his eyes danced over this creatures visage. The old man, slightly taken aback, looked up at his son stunned and replied: "Thank me for what?". Andy shut his eyes for a moment, and beheld behind his beautiful eyelids and long lashes, every memory of every lash of the cane that once fell upon his bare skin, every word of ridicule, and every tear shed in his lonely moments that were stored in the deep recesses of his mind. And with a heaving  breast he said: "I came to thank you for putting me through the flame, as I have risen from it to cast sparks of light to those who need it most!" The old man remained shell-shocked, his lower lip quivering, as cowards do when exposed. Andy knelt before him, and alighted a soft kiss upon the liver-spotted forehead of the old man before saying: "I thank you and I forgive you Bevan." Rising, Andy walked around the wheelchair and made his exit with tears welling up in his eyes. He stopped at the entrance, and looked back at this man who had altered his young life. Looking up to the heavens, he announced in a croaking whisper: "Thank you!"

"You are more than a fading scar"

T.B