Eighty-six Years Old

          The sun had risen; the birds started to sing and wake up the people from the neighbourhood with that graceful sound. The old ladies greeted on the street and opened the window of their houses to receive the light of that great day. Mr. Charlie had woken up as well. He put on his slippers, brushed his teeth and washed his face. Looked at himself in the mirror: a new sign of the age became visible on his face. Walked towards the kitchen and prepared his morning tea. He was going upstairs while he put the cup close to the lips.

-Oscar, I will prepare breakfast. Get up from that bed, otherwise you will miss the class. –He said by his grandson’s bedroom door. –Oscar, did you hear me?

-I heard you, grandpa. I will be downstairs in a moment. –the boy answered.

          Oscar got up from his bed and, still sleepy, walked towards his toilet. Washed his face. Looked at himself in the mirror: a new acne had appeared. He took a shower and got dressed. Breakfast time.

-You took a long time. –His grandfather said to make conversation.

-No, I didn’t, grandpa. I came downstairs very quickly.

-What are you going to do after school?

-I’m going to meet some friends. –Oscar said, biting a piece of toast.

-But, will you be at home until five? Remember our tea. And, today, it’s not just some usual tea, it’s my birthday’s afternoon tea. –Mr. Charlie said a bit disappointed.

-Of course, grandpa, I will be at home before that. Now, I’ve got to go. –Oscar said, while was grabbing his backpack and getting up. Kissed his grandfather’s forehead and whispered: -Happy Birthday, grandpa. Not every day someone turns eighty-six. –He smiled.

          Oscar was the only person that was left in Charlie’s life, as well as he was the only relative Oscar had. They two were, besides grandfather and grandson, friends, mates, brothers.

          At school, the same usual shit, nothing new: boring teachers, boring classes...

          Oscar was looking forward to the moment he would meet his friends.

          The bell rang. At the front gate, Ruth, Leanne, Max, Tom and Tylar.

-Hey, mates. –Oscar said as soon as he met them.

-Hey ya, where are we going to? –Ruth asked.

-There is a party two blocks from here, in a very well-known pub. They must be waiting for us. Shall we? –Tylar said.

-Let’s go! –They answered.

          Party. Joy. Fun. Drinks. Music. Dance. Smiles. Drinks. Food. Presentations. Games. Drinks. Cigarettes. Cigarettes. Drinks. Drinks.

          Some stars were already easily seen in sky; the moon was appearing timidly, getting out of the back of dark clouds. And the party was on. Nothing mattered, they were there just for fun. Nothing mattered.

          Eleven at night.

-The day was very funny with you all. –Oscar said.

-So, we can do it all over again next week. –Max said laughing.

-Bye, mates. –The boy screamed, waving to his friends.

          Oscar picked the key from his pocket and as soon as he put it in the lock, realised something: the door was open. “That’s weird”, he thought.

          It was almost midnight and his grandfather hadn’t closed the door yet? He entered. The lights were off. He thought about going upstairs to his bedroom, but needed a glass of water. He turned on the living room lights and there he was, back turned and sitting on an armchair: his old and beloved grandfather.

-Grandpa? Why haven’t you slept yet? –Oscar asked, getting closer slowly. As soon as he noticed there was no answer, he spoke again: -Grandpa? –Nothing was heard.

          Oscar looked at the little desk in the living room and, on it, a cake with a melted candle, some biscuits and a cup of cold tea. He looked back to his grandfather, he was holding another cup of tea, his eyes were open and, on his face, some tears were drying.

          That was exactly when Oscar understood everything: He had missed. Missed his best friend’s birthday, missed his mate’s eighty-sixth birthday, missed his brother’s last moments, but, besides everything, he had missed the chance to say goodbye, to say those few words that would have made all the difference to that great man that he admired so much: “Grandpa, I love you!”.

Lianderson Ferreira