Come Back to Tell Me
Flash-fiction - by Jen Ross
The girl smiles warmly at Ms. Vasquez—her favourite—as she hands her a bowl of lemon Jell-O and slides into the squeaky faux-leather armchair next to her. “How are you today?”
Recognizing her, the silver-haired woman’s thin, wrinkled lips part into a would-be smile that gets sabotaged by a deep, bronchial cough.
“Thank you, Norma,” she musters, adjusting her IV. “I’m so grateful for your visits. If it weren’t for you... Even my own sister and grown children haven’t come for months. They’re afraid this damn cough is contagious.”
“Don’t they know you can’t catch lung cancer?” asks Norma, incredulously, before lowering her voice. “Do they know how much time you have left? I mean, what the doctor told you yesterday…”
“No. And it’s better that way,” says Ms. Vasquez, staring stonily out the hospital window.
“Is there anyone else I can call for you?”
“No, Norma. Really. I’m at peace with it all. Your company alone has been a light for me these past few months.”
Norma pouts her lips into a sad smile and widens her eyes to keep them from welling.
“And I don’t want those hypocrites to come clamouring for their piece of the will now,” Ms. Vasquez grumbles. “Actually, Norma, I’d like to offer you something, as a token of my appreciation. For your loyalty.”
“Oh, Ms. Vasquez, that’s awfully generous of you, but I couldn’t possibly. I mean, I wouldn’t feel right. Besides, the hospital has strict policies about volunteers not accepting gifts.”
“I imagined you’d say no,” Ms. Vasquez says, eyes drooping.
Norma balls her fist under her chin and studies the woman’s weathered face. Its decades of worry lines over ungrateful children etched deep in her forehead. The blurring outline of a tired iris. Her proud, stoic posture despite her disintegrating frame. She ponders the woman’s offer for a moment.
“Well, I can’t accept anything material, obviously. But there is one thing I’ve always wanted…”
“Oh? Tell me…” Ms. Vasquez perks up.
“I’m not even sure if it would be possible.”
“Anything Norma. I’d really love to leave you something.”
“Well, it’s not really a thing… Since we both know your situation. I mean that you’re going to, well…
“Die. You can say it.”
“Yeah. Well, I’ve always wanted to know if there’s something beyond. An afterlife or some kind of life after we die. If there is, I’d like for you to, well … come back to tell me.”
The lines on Ms. Vasquez’ forehead scrunch and her eyes constrict.
“Norma, I don’t know if that’s something I can promise. Especially after I’m gone.”
“I know it’s a ridiculous, probably impossible, ask. But honestly, it’s the only thing I would want.”
Ms. Vasquez outstretches a bony hand and Norma receives it tenderly. After a long pause, she fixes her cloudy eyes on Norma’s. “Well, if there is any way I can, I will.”
Norma plunks her knapsack onto the dining room table and proceeds to devour the lukewarm plate of bean stew waiting for her on a lone placemat. She raises her pulsating feet onto a forest green velour chair and lets out a deflating sigh.
“Hi darling, we got hungry waiting for you,” says her mother, leaning into the vaulted wooden doorframe. She’s dressed in her Sunday best.
“I’m off to choir practice. Dad will pick me up after Marco’s soccer. Darling, you look tired. Take a nap before digging into those,” she adds, angling her chin at Norma’s bag.
Norma smiles dismissively, knowing she’ll need to plough through for her test on Monday. But she waits until she’s locked the front door behind her mother before opening her books.
Soon, the drone of Pedro de Valdivia traffic and the constant tick of the pendulum clock fade into the background, and Chilean history has Norma’s undivided attention.
Minutes later, her train of thought is interrupted by loud honking outside. She glances at the clock, whose hands meet at the 3.
A few minutes after that, a distant coughing sounds from the street corner. It wouldn’t normally be enough to distract her, except that as it draws nearer and nearer, it starts to sound more like choking. Worrying that it might be a neighbour in distress, Norma rises from her chair.
As she heads towards the front door, a rush of cool air sends a chill down the back of her neck and a hazy apparition stops her in her tracks in the entrance hall. She narrows her eyes, and the vision comes into focus.
It’s Ms. Vasquez, in her hospital gown, standing tall with her arms crossed. She’s nodding and smiling wide. Smiling triumphantly.
Norma blinks and shakes her head, knowing full well there is no way a terminally ill patient can leave the hospital. Then, she closes her eyes and barrels straight for the door.
Heart pounding, Norma breathes a sigh of relief as the sunlight hits her face.
The following day, despite having barely slept and bombed her history test, Norma arrives for her regular shift at the hospital.
An orderly spots her on her way to the locker room and takes her aside to give her the news.
“Norma, I know you and Ms. Vasquez had grown close recently, so I thought you should know she passed away yesterday afternoon.
Norma stares, glassy-eyed. “I know.”
The orderly looks momentarily confused. “Oh, sorry. I thought you’d just arrived.”
“Yeah. Would you mind telling me the time of death?”
The creases deepen on the orderlies’ forehead. “Yeah, I can get that from her chart, why?”
“It’s important,” says Norma.
“Ok,” the orderly replies, shuffling through a stack of charts on her desk. “Here it is. It looks like 3:15.”
Norma nods and crosses her arms, her lips parting into a trace of a smile.