His Name Is Kirby Jones

Zoey tried to ignore the feeling of annoyance as Kirby never called her that night. She fell asleep uneasy, too hot and bothered to rest. When it was time to wake up, she desperately wanted to stay in bed.

Taking a nice, warm shower and dressing in her attire for the day. She decided on some bright red skinny jeans, and oversized long sleeve black t-shirt. Throwing her hair into a side plait, and slipping some black pumps on, she was prepared for the day.

Arriving at school and not seeing Kirby was a definite surprise. She checked her phone instantly, and saw there was no morning message like usual. A wave of worry washed over her, and Zoey decided to text him.

Seeing her two best friends by her locker was of what some comfort, and she embraced them both in greeting. It took Zoey a second longer to notice that they were holding hands.

“Oh my god!” she squealed happily, jumping up and down. Elena grinned happily, whereas
Zack blushed and looked at his scuffed up shoes. Zoey hugged Elena excitedly, and then hugged Zack again, who almost toppled over from the shock of it.

“I’m so happy for you guys! When did this happen?” Zoey asked, practically screaming with excitement.

Zack chuckled as he interlocked Elena’s fingers with his own once again. He smiled at Elena, who nudged his shoulder gently.

“He asked me last night, after our second date.” Elena explained, surprisingly calm. Zoey squealed again, clapping her hands with victory.

“This is great!” she announced, and Zack confirmed it, by kissing his new-girlfriend’s cheek. Elena blushed slightly, and then dove straight into on what happened over the weekend.

Zoey’s previous negative thoughts of Kirby had been forgotten. She even forgot to check her phone, to see he hadn’t replied.
--

That Monday morning was disastrous as Kirby awoke with an awful crick in his neck, making it difficult for him to move sideways.

“Mr Jones?” a masculine voice called his attention, blinking quickly to wake himself up. Kirby looked to the source; a doctor was by Pops, smiling sympathetically.

“How is he? Is he alright?” Kirby asked instantly, standing up, ignoring the pain that travelled down his neck. The doctor gave a look which Kirby didn’t like, he motioned for him to follow.

Leaving the room hesitantly, Kirby followed the doctor. He now noticed his grandmother wasn’t around.

“Where’s my Grandma?” he asked worriedly, as he rolled his neck, rubbing it gently to get it back to normal. The doctor slowed down his pace so they were walking side by side casually.

“Mrs Jones left about five minutes ago to go get some clothes, she said she’d be back shortly…” the doctor began, smiling softly. He had the right smile, Kirby thought. To be a doctor, you had to have the look, and this guy definitely had it.

“Mr Jones-” The doctor began, and Kirby quickly interrupted.

“Please call me Kirby…” He said politely, halting to a stop and holding his out to shake. The doctor smiled approvingly and shook the young man’s hand.

“I’m Dave” he introduced kindly, Kirby nodded; pleased they were on a better level then just doctor-patient relative.

“Are you Pop’s doctor?” Kirby asked quickly, and Dave nodded.

“He’s going to be okay right?” Kirby asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Dave hesitated.

“I have some very unfortunate news for you Kirby….” Dave began, and they slowly began to walk again, down the white corridor that seemed to remind Kirby of death.

“Your grandfather suffered a heart attack, this is connected to his Alzheimer’s which I have on record that it was recently diagnosed as advanced, which is beyond help now…” Dave said warily, watching Kirby’s reaction.

“What are you saying?” he asked confused, halting again.

Dave took a deep breath in before replying again: “I’m afraid to inform you Kirby that your grandfather is going to die soon. His body is failing internally…and it would be best if he was transferred to a hospice to make him more comfortable for his time left.” Dave explained.

Kirby sucked in sharply, shocked at his words. It couldn’t be possible. Kirby knew Pops was ill, terribly ill in fact but he couldn’t be dying. Kirby couldn’t accept that.

“No…No….he’s not dying!” Kirby snapped, denying it. Dave gave a sympathetic look which contradicted to what Kirby said.

“He can’t be dying!” Kirby snapped angrily, causing attention from a patient that was being assisted, walking past them with a IV drip attached to her.

“Kirby, I’m sorry to tell you this information but you need to be prepared. Your grandfather is seriously ill and you need to prepare yourself for when it’s time for him to go…” Dave said softly. Kirby shook his head defiantly, tears threatening to fall, his fists clenched.

“Kirby…” Dave began but Kirby stalked off, storming down the hallway, and disappearing completely, he left the hospital, only to punch the wall when he got outside, screaming profanities, ignoring everyone that stared at him.

Kirby continued to walk off, his anger flaring higher as he felt the premises, going to anywhere where he could. His Pops use to always tell him that when he got angry and he was going to explode to do the simplest thing – just walk away.

Kirby’s right hand knuckles throbbed as they began to swell and bruise, a few droplets of blood fell of them as they were scratched up. His head was blurry, his heart felt like it was escaping his ribcage and his lungs desperate for air as tears blurred his vision.

Denial was so strange to him. He just couldn’t accept the fact that Pops was going to die, it was like a barrier had closed in his mind at the mere words and it wasn’t sinking in.
Michael Jones was Kirby’s idol, and without him, Kirby wouldn’t be able to cope.
--
“Kirby wasn’t at school today.” Zoey told her brother when she got home that afternoon, feeling more than disappointed. Being without Kirby today was strange, especially as there was no explanation.

“I’m sure he’s just sick or something….” Lucas reassured her as he ate an apple. Zoey nodded sadly. The two talked for a while, before Zoey disappeared upstairs to do some homework, her mind constantly on Kirby. She texted him before dinner yet got no reply.

She tried calling him after and soon she began to worry. Her Dad reassured her everything was okay and to try and get some sleep. Zoey, for the second time, slept restlessly.
--

The next two days seem to fly by for Zoey yet they dragged for Kirby. After Kirby’s ‘walk’ he returned to the hospital and sat by Pops all day and night again. Dora did too. Kirby didn’t show up for the rest of the week at school and Zoey began to be panicked, and on Friday after school she decided to go over and see if everything was okay.

Knocking on the door, Dora opened it, surprised to see Zoey. She had just come back from the hospital to get some fresh clothes for her husband and grandson.

“Zoey?” Dora said surprised, Zoey gave a weak smile, looking guilty, she scuffed the toe of her shoe on the floor, as she glanced down.

“I was wondering if Kirby was in?” she said meekly, she hated appearing the clingy girlfriend. But she was desperate to talk to Kirby. Dora blinked once, confused for a couple of seconds until she realised that Zoey clearly didn’t know about Michael.

“Um, you better come in dear…” she murmured gently, waving the young girl. Zoey wiped her feet on the door mat and walked in slowly. The house seemed so cold now, and dark. In fact, Zoey noticed it wasn’t up to its usual standard of cleanliness that Dora kept it up too. She saw Peaches was nowhere to be found and she usually came to greet anybody that came into the house.

“I would have thought Kirby called you or something….”Dora muttered, as she perched on her chair, she glanced at Michael’s armchair, the armchair is had practically lived in lately. It was his chair, nobody else sat there, sometimes Peaches curled up on there but that was the only exception.

Zoey sat beside Dora, and watched her without saying a word. Dora sighed sadly, and turned her attention back to Zoey.

“Michael is in hospital Zoey….” Dora began, the shock hit Zoey instantly and she let out a small gasp of surprise.

“Oh my god….is he okay?” Zoey asked quickly, wanting to know that he was alright. Dora gave a weak smile but failed. Her hand was shaking and she slowly reached out to Zoey who took it, placing it on her own knee and patting it softly.

“He’s going to be okay right Dora?” Zoey whispered worriedly, as Dora didn’t reply. The elderly woman gulped in some air, desperate to not cry.

“I’m afraid not.” Dora said shakily, a huge lump in her throat. Her hands trembling as she held back the tears. Her vein covered hand was cold between Zoey’s smooth ones.

Zoey knew not to speak, and a brief moment of silence passed as Dora collected herself together. She squeezed Zoey’s hand and tried to smile again, anything to shake off the misery that drowned her.

“Michael only has a few weeks left now…” she said and Zoey’s face distorted into shock and despair. She liked Michael, he was a lovely man and it was clear from when she first met Kirby, that he was his idol and a worship-worthy man.

Zoey had no idea what to say as Dora allowed one tear to fall. Zoey felt complete sympathy and pity for the woman that sat beside her. She knew what it was like to lose a loved one, but to know that your loved one was going to die right in front of you must be unbearable.

“I’m so sorry Dora.” Zoey said after another long moment of silence. Dora nodded, knowing that Zoey was trying to say the right thing. Although the words had no meaning to her, they were some comfort.

The two women sat there, unknowing what to do or say so they both did what they could. They sat there in a somewhat comfortable silence, holding one another’s hand.

Zoey knew Kirby probably needed her now, more than ever.
--
Kirby never thought he’d be so happy to hear his Pops waking up. Kirby watched carefully as Michael’s eyes slowly fluttered open and he breathed heavily. His lungs were failing completely, and his internal organs were dying out but Kirby didn’t care right now, as Michael was now awake.

“Pops…” Kirby murmured gently, shifting his chair closer to his bedside. Michael responded to the word, and looked to his side, to see Kirby’s tear-stained face. Fresh tears were in his eyes as he reached his out to hold Michael’s frail, white hand. Michael smiled, it was a weak smile, barely there, but Kirby saw it.

Michael’s wheezing continued as he lifted his hand, which had a drip in it only barely off the bed. Kirby slipped his hand under it, and clutched to it, holding it firmly. The sound of the heart monitor and Michael’s heavy breathing was the only sounds in the room, outside you could hear the business of the hospital but Kirby blocked it out as he looked at Michael’s fragile face.

“Pops….stay awake” Kirby begged softly, Michael blinked at Kirby, not speaking. He smiled again, it was that same smile of delirium that he had before. Michael had so many drugs in him keeping alive; he had no idea where he was.
Suddenly, Kirby’s hand was squeezed very tightly, and Kirby looked at Michael, smiling sadly.

“You know me don’t you?” he asked him gently, and Michael squeezed his hand again, confirming. Kirby smiled properly this time, a somewhat relief washing over him.
The beeping continued and each beep of his heart made Kirby feel more relaxed. He was still here, thought Kirby.

“Still with me” Kirby thought as his thumb stroked the back of Michael’s hand, and the two just stayed like that, staring at one another. Michael’s eyes clouded with some confusion but happiness, and Kirby’s held devastation and false hope.

“Don’t die Pops….” Kirby said suddenly, his voice cracked with sadness, and his eyes stung again and the lump in this throat that had been threatening to raise, did. Kirby couldn’t contain it anymore, he had been silently crying for days, and he had been punching walls outside the hospital, but he couldn’t hide it anymore – he was distraught, he was broken completely.

“Don’t die!” he begged, as tears fell and sobs escaped his lips, as he clutched Michael’s hand, refusing to let go. Michael’s eyes widened in surprise as Kirby sobbed and sobbed, now burying his head on the bed, hiding himself, he kissed Michael’s hand, and kept a firm grasp.

“Please don’t leave me….” He cried loudly, and burying his head in the quilt again, he laid his head to the side so he looked at their clasped hands. Michael’s was bigger than his but not by much, and it was cold. It was wrinkled, with purple veins showing through, and a splatter of age spots too. He was an old man. He was a dying old man.

Kirby closed his eyes, as tears rolled down his cheeks as he breathed in and out heavily. Flashes of the past flew through his mind, he can remember holding Michael’s hand as they went to the park, or the time they went grocery shopping and Kirby ran off and got lost. Michael searched the whole of the supermarket. When he finally found Kirby, sitting in the dairy aisle, shivering slightly as he sat by a refrigerator, Kirby was scared that Michael would be cross, but not once did Michael raise his voice. In fact, Michael merely picked Kirby up and hugged him tight, kissing him and telling him not to ruin off again because it scared him. Kirby found it hard to believe that his Pops could be scared.

Michael held Kirby’s hand for the rest of their shopping trip.
Kirby tried to make the memories go away as more flooded over him. His birthday, the time they fixed the bike, everything just flew into his mind and all of it made him want to hold onto Pops more.

Taking him out of his consumed thoughts was when Michael loosened his grip on Kirby’s hand. Kirby looked up instantly, panicked. He immediately relaxed when Michael moved his hand, and placed it onto of Kirby’s hair, pushing his hand through Kirby’s dark curls. The motion made Kirby relax, and smile slightly. Michael did it again and this time kept his hand at the back of Michael’s head.

He smiled a frail smile. “It’s okay.” Michael spoke, his voice was croaky and very quiet, and it didn’t even sound like him, but it was something as the words reached Kirby’s ears.
At that moment of desperation, Kirby knew for now, it would be okay.