Baby Shadows

Wolfe closed her eyes. His face floated into her mind again. She still had no idea who he was, but her heart told her he was important. His hazel eyes flashed, turning green as the sun grew brighter. She opened her eyes again, confused. Those eyes were so beautiful, so happy, yet so tragic at the same time.

“Wolfe, dinner,” Uncle Rick called up the stairs. Wolfe rolled off her bed and went to get ready. Sadness washed over her at the thought of his cancer washed over her again. Since Rose had grown up and moved out now, it was down to Wolfe to help out around the house. She thundered down the stairs and entered the kitchen, opened the drawer and, taking out the knives and forks for her and Uncle Rick, she went into the living/dining room to set the table.

Dinner was very simple tonight; eggs, chips and bacon. Smiling at the sight of the colourful meal, Wolfe sat, and waited for Uncle Rick to join her before she began eating. They ate in silence for a while, before Wolfe asked one of the questions that had been on her mind lately.

“Why am I called Wolfe?” Wolfe asked.

“I wanted to give you a special name, one that no one else had,” Uncle Rick replied. Wolfe thought for a moment, then smiled at him.

“Thanks,” she said happily.

“You’re welcome, kid,” he laughed, and silence resumed once more. When dinner was over, they took up residence in the kitchen, Uncle Rick washing up the dinner dishes and Wolfe drying them, and putting them away. They didn’t speak. There wasn’t a lot to say tonight, and they weren’t really there anyway. They were both lost in their own thoughts of when the end would come, and the changes it would bring to Rose’s and Wolfe’s lives.
When everything was put away, Wolfe went up to her bedroom to read. Uncle Rick went to rest, for family time exhausted him nowadays.

A short time later, he felt his mouth become to dry and called out. “Wolfe.”
She soon arrived in his room.

“Yes?” she inquired, and he smiled. She was a good girl, and he hoped she found a good home once he was gone. He asked for a glass of water, and with a smile, she went downstairs to get it for him.

“Thanks,” he said, once she’d returned, and with another smile, she went back to her book.
About two or three hours later, she heard him call out again, but very weakly this time, and she knew that it was beginning of the end. She rushed into his room to comfort him, and to ring the hospital for help, although she knew, from looking at him, that help would soon not be needed. It still hurt hearing it from them, though.

So here it was, the end. After so many happy years, Uncle Rick was dying.