Fresh Pencils by Chris Castle

Ashley Gere walked along the corridor of the hospital, trying to find a phone. His beeper had gone off twice already and he knew it was three strikes and out in the office. Finally he found one and dialled. Luckily he was right by the ward and he spun round and swiped himself in. He tried to walk calmly down the corridor but found himself overtaking people at a jog. One old man stared at him as he brushed by and Ashley tried to smile but the anxiety in him was too great.

“I’m here to collect some x-rays to go back to central?” The receptionist, one of the nice ones, winked at him and handed over the file. Even though he was quiet he seemed to be well thought of by most of the staff. He smiled remembering what his old man had said: ‘a man who keeps his mouth shut long enough is considered wise.’ Admittedly, there had been a final section to that sentence which had ended, ‘…by fools,’ but Ashley preferred to trim it down to a more healthy sentiment.

As he walked through the doors of central, he searched for the receptionist. When he couldn’t find her, he decided to walk down a little further and slip the file into the cubby hole. After he had stopped at the disinfectant spray and cleaned up, he stepped into the ward, both simultaneously trying not to look at the patients and not able to stop resist stealing glances.

What always shocked him the most was how healthy they all looked. Compared to the hung-over, sleep-deprived staff, the patients themselves looked to be in tip-top shape. It was only if you got closer that you saw it around the eyes, the flesh of the neck. Ashley wondered what each of them was suffering from and then suddenly realised he had no wish or right to know. Instead, he dropped the file and turned to walk away when suddenly a voice from out of nowhere called out his name.

“Ashley Gere,” echoed throughout the corridor. Ashley froze and then turned round. It almost sounded like, he thought, and then stopped dead in his tracks.

“Mr. Jenkins?” he said, trying not to notice how high his voice suddenly sounded. Without thinking he started to walk over, unable to stop himself from nodding to each stranger he walked past, as if they were all acquaintances and chums.

“I knew it, knew it from the walk, straight off! How are you, Ashley?” His voice sounded exactly the same, Ashley thought, and smiled.

“I’m fine, sir, how are y-” he caught himself but a few words too late. His former teacher raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“I’ve been better,” he said in an even tone. “I’m surprised to see you in here, Ashley. I thought you might have written the great modern novel by now.” The older man pulled himself up onto his elbows and reached for his glasses. Straightaway, he transformed into the man Ashley had known five years previously; his favourite teacher.

“Of course, I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I mean…” Ashley said, regressing to fifteen years old and incredibly awkward.

“I know what you mean Ashley and thank you. The writing?”

“I have written the novel, sir, it’s just no-one’s reading it,” he grinned and was heartened to see the other man’s face lighten too. “But you’re okay?”

“I had a spell and they brought me in for tests. I think I’ll be discharged soon enough.” He winked and Ashley couldn’t help but feel good inside, remembering how he had used that wink in class to comfort the shy kids and the class clowns alike. The guy could have had his leg chopped off and still would have described it as something charming, like a ‘spell.’

“Good, as long as it’s nothing serious,” Ashley said, feeling strangely relieved. For some reason he had always thought of his teachers, the same as he did other older people he admired, as somehow immortal.

“Oh, it’s serious enough, alright. I’m H.I.V., Ashley,” he replied in the same light tone. His face was still strong and brave but it flickered slightly.

“You’re…what?” he mumbled. Somewhere, a tray hit the floor and equipment spilled along the corridor.

“Yes, that’s right...and yes, I did contract it from another man.” He nodded congenially but his eyes hardened a little; absurdly Ashley felt as if he was being chastised back in class.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think of to say. He looked down to his beeper and fiddled with it dumbly, as if it had gone off. It was such a childish gesture that he felt his face flush red again.

“My god, Ashley, from sickly green to bright red inside a minute; if you tan easily I could sell you as a traffic light.” He raised his eyebrow again and Ashley felt unsteady, not quite knowing how to respond. For a second neither of them spoke.

“Well, I should let you get back to your work,” he said quietly. “It was good to see you again, Ashley Gere.”

“You too,” Ashley said, feeling ashamed. He raised his hand to wave and then realised how redundant it seemed to a man laying flat out in a bed. He nodded and then walked away, willing himself not to look back and not doing so until he reached the double doors. By the time he did, his teacher was pinching his eyes and getting ready to set the glasses down on the table. Suddenly, he looked worn out. No, not worn out, Ashley thought, but defeated.

Ashley swiped back in the next day, praying Mr. Jenkins was still there; he realised how weird it sounded, to wish someone he cared for was still sick, but he shook it off as he stepped back into the ward. He looked around and sure enough he was sitting up, reading the newspaper. As Ashley walked towards him the man looked up but didn’t smile.

“I should warn you son, we’re not in a classroom now, so I don’t have to watch my emotions so much.” He looked over the top of his glasses, the way he did when he was angry but did not shout. Even now, it chilled Ashley and stopped him in his tracks. He took a deep breath, determined to get out what he intended to say.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t handle what you told me yesterday very well and I want to apologise, sir.” He took another breath but didn’t sit down.

“That’s good of you, Ashley, thank you.” He pushed the glasses up on his nose, which Ashley took as a good sign. “Do you have time to sit down?”

“I finished half an hour ago,” he said, easing into the seat.

“Okay, now if you’re going to go the whole hog, I would ask one more thing of you Ashley…” he looked over as Ashley waited. “Stop calling me ‘sir.’ It’s very kind of you but it makes me feel…uncomfortable, okay?”

“Okay,” Ashley said and then paused. “I don’t know your first name.”

He looked back and suddenly the man exploded into laughter. Other patients looked round; most smiled but one or two actually frowned.

“It’s Richard,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Of course! How would you? You know, I taught in Greece for a while and all the kids used to call me ‘Mr. Richard.’ I loved it. You should think about it, Ashley.”

“I would like to go to Greece,” Ashley said in a low voice, suddenly aware he was a visitor in a ward and had no idea at what level his voice should be; he settled for a loud whisper. “Maybe next year, if I can get some money together.”

“I meant teaching, Ashley,” the man said and smiled the way he used to do when a student got the easy answer completely wrong. It always kind of said, he’s an idiot but he’s my idiot.

“What?” Ashley yelped out, immediately blowing the idea of etiquette he had established seconds before. The same patients looked back at them; this time none of them were smiling.

“Why not? You should think about it, at least.” He set aside the paper and gave Ashley a thoughtful look and then shrugged.

“Okay… Look, I bought you some books. I don’t know if you’ve read them but they’re ones I’ve really enjoyed.” He ducked down to his bag and pulled out three paperbacks. Ashley handed them over and flinched a little, realising how thin his teacher's fingers were. If Jenkins noticed, he didn’t show it in his reaction; instead he smiled broadly with the patented hard-question-answered-correctly grin and Ashley couldn’t help but smile back. It had been five years since he’d left classes and two questions leapt into his mind: where did the time go and a second, more urgent one, what have I done with that time?

“Good choices, Ashley. I’ll look forward to reading them. Good timing, too,” he said and the grin faded ever so slightly around the corner of his lips; it was a slight reaction that changed everything about him. Before Ashley could ask, he raised his hand.

“It looks like I might be in here for a little while longer, Ashley. Maybe a week, maybe longer, who knows? Certainly not the doctors. So, thank you again. You know I was only expecting to stay overnight when I was admitted. I didn’t think to pack a toothbrush, let alone a good book.” Suddenly his smile dropped away completely and Ashley, for the first time, saw how tired he looked. Not old, never old, but something more bruised and painful than that: ravaged.

“Do you have a toothbrush now?”

“I do thank you, Ashley.” He patted Ashley’s hand. “A very kind nurse brought me one.”

“You don’t have anyone? To bring you a toothbrush, I mean…” He hated the fact he blanched again but the smile the man shot him saved him; not just around his mouth but in his eyes too. It was somehow sad and beautiful at the same time. He understood it was the look someone has only after they’ve been in love and known it’s over.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a toothbrush partner, Ashley, no. But that’s okay too.” He leant back and set the books to one side.

“Sir -- I mean, Richard -- I’d like to visit you, if you’d like me to.”

“I would like that a lot, Ashley. It’s very kind of you to offer. But if you were going to visit me, I would like to ask one thing of you; it’s a big request, so I’ll understand if you say no.” He looked serious and Ashley shifted in his seat.

“If I can, I will,” he said simply.

“I’d like you to bring in the book you wrote and show it to me.” He sat back against the pillow and watched Ashley, his hands open, palms up.

“Sir… I don’t know if it’s ready for you to see. It’s rough as hell…”

“Then maybe we could go through it together, edit anything we think might be unnecessary. You’d have to bring me in a fresh pencil to make notes in the margins and things.” As he spoke, Ashley watched his face grow more animated with every expression. It matters to him, he thought.

“Sure, I could do that,” he said finally. The older man stuck out a hand and Ashley took it. They shook for a second or two and then started laughing. The same faces from the other sides of the ward looked over once again but they didn’t care. They kept on laughing.