Jukebox

Fat tears of hot summer rain rolled lazily down the window panes as they shivered against the wind fighting against them. Outside the sun flashed through the black clouds in dazzling sporadic moments as they raced each other to be the first to the West, the branches of the trees buckled and bent in the storm scratching them down, and plastics bags and debris chased each other round like dogs in circles as they caught in the upwards sweeping of the blasts. It was mightily clammy, inside and out, the sort of atmosphere that clings to the skin and dampens it with every movement, slight or otherwise. Somewhere at the back of the room there was the tinny rattle of an iPod stuffed in a pocket that had been left to play, which at times dropped to a murmur then would suddenly pick up at some guitar drop and continue its inane racket. In the corridor there was every now and again exchanges of voices, brief conversations, the sound of a door opening and closing or of a buzzer ringing. Except for that it was still, and outside it was raging.

Brian watched as his father stirred in the bed opposite, his eyes taken on the glassy look of someone transported to another place. His hand was resting on the covers beside the other man's who, face pale and sunken, slowly reached for the one that had forgotten it was waiting to be taken.

Brian jumped at the cold fingers as they wrapped themselves around his. Mesmerised by the rain he wiped his eyes with the other hand in a balled fist and stifled a yawn whilst he leaned forward and apologised with a slow squeeze of his father's hand.
"Son," he said, voice crackling with unuse.
"Hey, Dad," Brian murmured, matching the reverent hush. He watched his father's eyes go from his face to the side, straining to see the cause of the howling gales outside, face already creasing with questions. "Yeah, it's pretty bad out. Five, ten, minutes I'd say. Nothing to worry about."
The older man nodded sagely and began the laborious process of sitting up. Naturally Brian moved to help him but was battered away as his father battled with canulars and wires to get to a comfortable enough position to survey the room, blinking rapidly as if the room had been plunged in bright light.
"Did your Mom come already today?" He asked.
"This morning," Brian replied, "But she had to go pick up Grandma for her class."
His father was shaking his head, face sinking. "Would you believe it, she's twenty years older than me and not a mark to show for it, and I'm stuck up here with damn wires coming outta me so as I can't damn move and nurses coming in changing the television from Seinfeld to Keeping up with the Kardashians--" He broke off, clearly agitated, fussing with the inside of his pajama shirt collar which had flipped inside out. Brian watched him quietly for a moment with a look of kind pity and then answered,
"I didn't even know you knew the name of that show, that's kinda impressive."
"Well it's not me that changes the channels."
"I'd still say you're pretty down with the kids, Pa."
"Huh."
"And grandma's not doing so great either, if it's a competition. Mom took her to her doctor's appointment this afternoon, too."
"And what is it this time? I didn't know there was a treatment for ignorance."
"Dad." A smile crept onto Brian's mouth and he reached out again to squeeze his hand. "She was asking about you, Mom said. She said she was glad you were feeling better."
"Feeling better but not doing better, huh?"
"I talked to Doctor Hamm just now, he said two weeks, maybe even a week, they can let you out once they see how the surgery's helping you out."
His father grumbled a reply and reached over for a glass of water which Brian poured obligingly, raising his eyes to the window. "Looks like it's letting up."
"Not likely," his father replied, and when Brian looked his was staring into the near distance with one hand on his chest underneath which through the gaps in the buttons of his shirt was the crisp white dressing. The water for a moment was forgotten and when Brian next looked it was at a precarious angle in his father's hand, beginning to spill sideways onto the bed clothes.
"Hey! Dad, watch out!" He called, and took the glass out his hand, getting to his feet to look for a cloth or a towel. "Now where do these nurses..."
"Don't worry, son. Just come sit back down."
Brian did as he was told, and tucking himself up close this time, handed his father the glass of water once more.
"You know I was expecting you not to be alone today. I was thinking maybe Jess would have come with you," his father said, looking at him in such a direct was that Brian, bashful of that gaze, looked away.
"She, um, I don't know, she was busy. She doesn't like hospitals, you know that."
"But she likes me, I hope. I've known the girl long enough."
"Dad, come on, she was busy."
His father nodded, pursing his lips, raising the glass like he was making a toast. "You look sharp there son, you just look sharp." Brian, frowning, now got to his feet. "And where are you going?"
"Are you done yet?" He shot back angirly.
"Done with what? Actually, I was only getting started, but now isn't such a good time, I'm just starting to feel a little..."

And like clock work the door opened and a nurse walked in rattling a little box of medicines wearing her Colgate smile and directing her gaze Brian's way.
"Hello, Brian. It's nice to see you on such an awful day," she said, setting her box down on the table beside the bed. She looked up out of the window through which the sun was now shining turning the water into glittering diamonds on the sill. "Look, you made the sun come out."
"Here now," Brain's father said with a smile, reaching out to pat the nurse on the arm. "This here boy's taken, you know that, but..." He trailed off and looked over at Brian.
"Trouble in paradise?" The nurse offered.
"No," Brian contested, and went to pick up his jacket off the back of the chair in the corner. His father's face, which had grown a little in colour, seemed to sink again. He was already uttering words of protest as Brian came over to him.
"Are you really leaving already?"
"Dad, I was already here an hour before you woke up. I've got stuff to do. We've just got a couple dates in Cali for next month, there's stuff I gotta organise..."
"Sure, sure, I understand," came the reply, a little more muted this time.
"You're in a band, aren'tcha, Brian?" The nurse chirped up, forcing a fistful of pills in the direction of Brian's father, sitting there with a grumpy expression plastered across his face.
Brian nodded tiredly, reading into his jeans pocket for his cars keys.
"You know, I have a friend who's like, well she doesn't play music, like not any more, but she's a music journalist now, you know, she writes for websites and stuff, she wants to get a job at some magazine, AB or something."
"AP?"
"Yeah! That's it," the nurses exclaimed gleefully.
"That's great," Brian said, trying not to sound strained as he made his way over to his father's side.
"She's really cool. We graduated together. She was living out in LA and she came back last month," the nurse was going on, but Brian was exchanging a sorry look with his father, before he bent down and drew him into a tentative embrace, feeling the slow pressure of the familiar hand on his back, pressing like he was scared to break something, or maybe too weak to do so.
"I'll see you soon. I'll call in on Saturday or something," he explained, and received a slight nod.
"Thanks for coming, son. I know how busy you are."
Brian responded with a smile, clapped his hand to his father's shoulder, and waved at the nurse as he turned to leave, meeting the door with the same feeling of resistance he always felt, like he was one end of the magnet being pulled back int the room. He resisted the temptation to turn around before he left the room, striding down the corridor like it was his only chance to get away, feeling the same dull regret and anxiety in his heart. It dissipated a little as he stepped outside into the bright day and the smell of rising petrichor from the ground. His phone started to ring and he pulled it out of his pocket, another smiling already there to meet his lips.
"Hey, baby," he grinned as he picked up, and walked to his car.