One Last Request

My fourth entry for Cal's Song Inspiration Contest. The song is 100 Years, by Five for Fighting, and the word is discovery. This isn't my best piece, but it's better than the other three I tried to write for this song. Critique away.

Time is running out, and suddenly, I’m wishing I had done all of the things I had thought twice about. I watch the clock tick off my time, for I can no longer do much else. Tubes and wires hold me down, and cumbersome machines help my body live. I figure that when you need metal and plastic to make your body work, it is high time to let go of life. But my family has other ideas.

“Father, you can live for several more years,” my daughter pleas as I insist I am sick of living on machines. “I don’t want to let you go. There is more you can do in life.”

“No, Katherine, there is no more for me. I cannot walk, I cannot taste or smell, and I am losing my sight. The only thing for me to do is dwell on all that I regret not doing.” I hate Katherine. I desire nothing more than to tell her how my anger boils in a tightly covered pot deep below my heart, but I don’t have the mind to as I see tears stream from her shallow blue eyes.

“But you had a long and fulfilling life.” She seems confused, because her delicate eyebrows scrunch together.

“Ah that may be true, for I am definitely old enough to have experienced much, but not all that much that I wished to.”

“Such as what?” Katherine’s voice is soft, though by now she should know I cannot hear her well when she whispers so quietly.

“Well, I must always wonder why I became a lawyer instead of traveling the world as I so wanted to. I also would have liked to improve upon my piano-playing skills, and performed some, instead of joining that awfully dull card club. I wish I had read more classic novels instead of burying myself in work. I wish I had spent more time with your mother.”

“Father…” Of course she feels no empathy, because where was she when her mother died? She stayed at the funeral for ten minutes before leaving in her little red Porsche with her blond-haired boyfriend. She spent five years in France, only sending a postcard at Christmas. She did whatever she wanted, living off of her boyfriend’s father’s money, until he left her of course. She doesn’t even feel sympathy. “You did most of those things out of practicality. Your work was always important.”

“Practicality! If every person lived their lives out of practicality, nothing would ever be interesting!” I cry out. This is why she never got into college, though my wife and I saved away for years for her to go; she fails to comprehend things on a deeper level.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“Katherine, if there is one thing I have discovered in my tedious life, it is that you have to do as much as you can while you can. Don’t end up in my predicament: looking back on your own life in uninterest. Do something more.”

“Of course! Anything you wish,” Katherine smiles as if that one false promise makes up for all the wrongs in our relationship.

“Right…” I grumble, holding back the urge to scream at her, though I doubt I could, seeing how weak my voice is.

“So what do you want, Father?”

“I want to escape this life that holds nothing for me. “ Her eyebrows crinkle again, this time in sadness. I can’t tell if she is actually upset about my announcement, or if she is just putting on a show.

“Your life could hold more!” she insists once again, clasping my wrinkled hands in her own.

“It’s too late, Katherine. This is the last thing I want, and one of the few things I don’t want to regret. Just take me off these infernal machines and let my body take its own course.”

She deliberates, a million memories flashing across her eyes. The funeral, the years in France, and visions of her mother are all visible on her face. Finally, she looks away from my veined hands and into my eyes.

“Okay. Your one last request.” I smile. Maybe now I can forgive her.