A Desperate Way to Look...

July 5th, 2003
Mr. Della'Alba called me into his room from the hallway today. "You're a sweet kid," he said to me. "More than that though, you got some brains and good instincts for how to treat people. I been meanin' to tell ya -" And here he went into a coughing fit. We think the cancer's moved into his lungs. Surgery obviously didn't get everything before it metastasized.
"Hweaugh," he wheezed, before managing to catch his breath and continue. I grabbed him some water to help the rasps.
"You, peach, you'd be good at the big-kid stuff. You got some damage, so what. Who fucking doesn't, these days? Stop mopping the floors. Get your ass in gear, and start filling out the charts. If I'd had a bright pair of eyes like yours, eyes with fire and a good goddamn left in 'em, lookin' after me, maybe I'd still have my nuts."
My eyes widened, and I stifled a shocked laugh. "Uh, thanks Mr. D., but I'm not really all that sure -"
"Fuck 'sure', kid. I've never been sure of anything, 'til now. Two things, though, I'm sure of: One, Dirty Ol' Hal is gonna die, dressed in a sheet with my ass hanging out. Two, you need to be a doctor. I seen ya talking to yourself, arguing with yourself and holding your head. I seen you crying over the buckets, which honestly looks stupid. Tears look fucking ridiculous on you. I seen you freeze when they bring a kid past you. But no matter what issues you think you got, mopping floors ain't gonna fix squat."
"Well," I laughed. "I thought I was coping quite well." I sniffed a little. This was getting uncomfortable. I was starting to think of Mom. It's a fresh wound, still.
"Look, I don't really care what you've got to cope with. I probably won't be around long enough to see it matter, but I wanted the chance to talk some sense into your crazy ass. Anyway. I'm sure you've got somewhere else to be, now."
"Mmk..." I squinted a little. This guy switches so quickly from mild to Mojave, it leaves you spinning a little sometimes. I turned around to leave, after asking if he needed anything else.
"Nah, just think about what I said. You've got fingers meant for ministering, stitching and shit. Not mopping up shit."

Weird old guy.

"Another promise fallen through, another season passes by you
I never took the smile away from anybody's face
And that's a desperate way to look for someone who is still a child...
So take that look out of here
It doesn't fit you
Because it's happened doesn't mean you've been discarded
Pull up your head off the floor,
Come up screaming
Cry out for everything you ever might have wanted
I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered
But you can't stay here with every single hope you had, shattered..."
Big Country, In a Big Country