Afire Love

Passion is found in even the oldest of hearts. (A story based off of the song Afire Love by Ed Sheeran.)


2. Then The Devil Took Your Memory

"What?!" my father shouted into his phone, attracting my attention from the book I had buried myself in. My older brother, Ed, looked up too from his laptop. As my father began to pace, his brown eyes worried, my mother appeared from the kitchen where she'd previously had been cleaning up from dinner. Her blue eyes watched his, and a crease formed in her brow as she wiped her hands. We all watched as dad continued to listen to whoever was on the other end.

"Alright, we're on our way," he said, moving to the closet and throwing us our coats. As we pulled those on and got shoes, dad ran out to start the car. We got into the silver Malibu as he hung up the phone, and sped out of the garage. 

"Honey, what's going on?" mom asked, laying a hand on my dad's thigh.

"Papa had another heart attack," he said, his face tight with worry. My breath drew in quickly. Papa was our grandfather, who suffered from heart attacks now and then, and constantly battled Alzheimer. My eyes met Ed's blue eyes, both of our faces a mask of worry. The silent car ride to the hospital was filled with stress and tension. When we finally reached West Suffolk Hospital, dad dropped us off at the entrance while he went to find a parking spot.

Walking quickly, we entered the white room and made a beeline for the front desk. The blonde woman behind the desk lazily lifted her eyes for us.

"Can I help you?" She asked, looking bored.

"Could you tell me what room William Sheeran is in?" my mom asked, leaning forward against the desk to express her urgency. The blonde woman, however, didn't connect, and slowly flipped through her binder. I tapped my feet impatiently against the white tile floor as she ran her finger down the page.

"Room 27 in the Elders Ward," she drawled. We hurried off, not bothering with a thank you to the woman. Upon reaching the room, we could see that most of our family was already there. They all sat outside his room, some collapsed on chairs, others sagging against the wall. Papa was a beloved member of our family, and so even though we had done this many times, it was always hard for all of us. Many were already crying. This sight made my heart sink lower.

"Is it that bad?" Mom whispered to Mama, our grandma. She nodded her head slowly, tears spilling onto her wrinkled face. We entered the room quietly, to find Papa asleep on the hospital bed. His face was peaceful underneath the oxygen mask. We stood there for a moment, watching him, and then silently left too. Outside the room, dad walked up, and without a word to any of us, went into the room. I sat on the floor against the wall, and rested my head on my knees.

"The doctors say he might not make it this time," Mama said in a hushed tone.

"If he doesn't, we can only hope heaven is his resting place," Aunt Martha whispered, bowing her head. Even the youngest kids were quiet as we waited for news of Papa waking up.

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