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Andre's Surprise by Elizabeth Smart
Second prize - Charlotte Duncan Award 2013
 

'Pa's coming, Pa's coming,' Andre shouted, racing to the gate to wait for Pa's car. 'I'll probably hear it before I see it,' he grinned calling back to Mum and Dad.

'It's funny,' he thought, swinging on the gate. 'Pa's car is just like him, old and dented.' Andre loved Saturday lunches with Pa's funny stories, but most of all he loved his surprises. He hopped from one foot to the other and, hearing the familiar roaring noise, scampered onto the footpath as the car turned the corner. It seemed to take Pa for ever to park, ease himself out of the seat, steady himself upright and hobble towards him.

'How can anyone walk so slowly?' Andre wondered in that second before flinging his arms around his middle.

'Any surprise today, Pa?' he asked after his hug.

'Surprise, what do you mean surprise?' Pa smiled, the usual reply. The ritual was always the same.

Andre searched Pa's pockets. It was their special game. They had been playing it for as long as Andre could remember. There was always something to be found, a toy, a sweet, a shell, an interesting stone or some small trinket.

The search began, pocket after pocket. Nothing. No surprise. Andre found the usual things, keys, hankie, wallet, nothing else. He looked at Pa sadly. He never forgot. There was always something.

'Look again,' said Pa, a confused look on his face.

Andre checked the pockets again, trousers, shirt and jacket. Nothing. Tears of disappointment pricked his eyes. Why had Pa forgotten? Why had he spoilt their game?

'I'm sure there was something but I'm getting a bit forgetful.' Pa looked upset. 'I'll remember next week.' Pa took Andre's hand as he hobbled inside.

Next week it happened again, nothing, no surprise. His pockets were empty.

'I don't really care about the surprise,' Andre told Mum, 'but it's always been our special game. Pa's changing. He's different somehow.'

'You have to remember he's getting old,' Mum said, 'and forgetfulness is something that can happen.' She gave him a sympathetic hug. 'I don't like it either. Sometimes he forgets who I am and he's known me all my life.'

Pa's forgetfulness became worse. It was not only forgetting the surprises, but he kept forgetting his story endings too. Saturdays weren't the same. When Andre looked at Pa he felt sad and cross at the same time. What was happening? He was there with them but he wasn't.

'I think he's getting Alzheimers,' Dad said. Andre looked quizzical. 'It's an illness that affects the memory,' Dad explained. 'It usually affects old people and it can gradually get worse.'

'Well I hate it,' Andre retorted. 'I want my Pa to stay the same.'

One Saturday, Pa remembered. Andre found a little old metal box in his jacket pocket. Andre gave him an excited hug. Everything was alright again.

But it wasn't. Some Saturdays Pa was his old self, sometimes he was quiet and other times he was crotchety.

On Andre's birthday, Pa came. He loved the party but Andre felt sad because he knew Mum had bought the present Pa gave him because he had seen it hidden under her bed. Pa had forgotten.

One Saturday Andre waited for Pa as usual. He waited and waited. Mum and Dad, worried, joined him at the gate.

'What's happened?' Andre asked, 'Pa's never late.'

'I've tried to ring him,' Mum said, 'but there's no answer. I think he's forgotten. I'll drive over and collect him. Wait here and I'll ring when I get there.'

Pa wasn't at home, but his car was. Finally, Mum found him wandering along the footpath, lost, upset, confused and angry. Lunch that day was a miserable meal.

'I'm worried about Pa,' Dad said later, 'he can't live alone any longer.'

'He'll have to go into a home where he can be looked after,' Mum said, 'although I hate the thought.'

'He could live with us,' Andre suggested, 'there's a spare bed in my room.'

'That's a great idea,' Mum said giving him a hug, 'but, what would happen when Dad and I were work and you were at school? We don't want him getting lost again.' Andre agreed, a pensive look on his face.

'But he could come in the holidays,' he suggested, 'and I could look after him.'

'That's a great idea,' Mum said, 'and Pa would love that.'

After a lot of organising, Pa moved into his new home. He was grumpy and confused.

Then Dad sold Pa's car. Andre was upset. Pa loved his car.

'Why couldn't we keep it?' he asked. 'I could learn to drive in it.'

'It needs too much doing to it,' Dad replied ruffling his hair, 'and we don't have the room.'

Looking at Pa sitting in his strange room, his face blank caused a knot to come into Andre's tummy. Pa seemed to be disappearing week by week.

Pa continued coming to lunch on Saturdays but it wasn't the same. He didn't know where he was, his stories were forgotten, he hardly spoke and sometimes he left the table and wandered off in the middle of the meal.

Andre's knotted tummy grew worse each visit. Why was Pa changing?

'It's the Alzheimers causing his memory loss,' Mum explained. 'It's a horrible disease,'

Andre grumbled. 'I want my Pa back.'

'Sadly things change all the time,' Dad said. 'Look at how you are growing and how my hair is going grey.'

Andre didn't care. He wanted his Pa.

Pa had a fall. He couldn't walk anymore and had to use a wheelchair. Saturday lunches ceased so they visited him instead. Andre wheeled him round the garden and although Pa didn't speak, he smiled and pointed.

During the holidays, Andre spent two weeks at the beach with friends. On his next visit to Pa, he was shocked to see his blank face and dull eyes. Worst of all, he didn't recognise Andre.

'Pa, it's me, Andre,' Andre said, taking his wrinkled old hand. Pa glanced at him then turned back to the window. Andre blinked away his tears. 'It's me, Andre,' his voice quavered. Pa continued staring outside.

That night in bed, sobs overwhelmed Andre as his tears cascaded. Finally he scrubbed them away, remembering how Pa had hated seeing him cry. But, but, his Pa, his wonderful Pa didn't know him.

'Sometimes he'll still remember you,' Mum said coming to sit beside him. 'It's sad, but fortunately I don't think Pa realises what's happened. All we can do is show him our love. He'll understand that.'

Lying awake, Andre thought about Pa and all the fun they had, especially their surprise game. If only there was something he could do to cheer Pa up and help him remember him. Tossing and turning, his doona tying itself in knots, he tried to think of a plan. Just as he was falling asleep an idea struck him. He knew what he'd do. He would make Pa a card surprise.

After school the next day Andre couldn't wait to start but, homework first.

'If only I didn't have so much,' he complained to Mum.

'You don't want to get into trouble,' Mum said. He gave her a wry smile and busied himself in his books, longing to have it finished so he could begin his surprise.

Every day that week Andre worked on his card, cutting, pasting and illustrating. Last of all, he pasted his school photo on the front and wrote his name underneath in large colourful letters.

Saturday arrived. Andre could hardly wait to see Pa. With his surprise behind his back and a huge grin, he rushed to Pa's room. Pa was in his usual spot by the window.

'I've a surprise for you Pa,' Andre said, leaning over him, 'and you don't have to search my pockets,' he giggled. Pa turned his head, slowly and looked at Andre's bright face. With a glimmer of a smile, he took the card, turning it over and over. He opened and closed it, studying the decorations and illustrations, running his fingers over the detailed collage. Occasionally he looked up at Andre then back down again. At last he placed the card in his lap, Andre's photo on top. He traced the colourful letters and looked up.

'Andre,' he said slowly, a smile curving his lips that almost lit up his eyes. Andre laughed, giving his Pa big hug.

'Yes,' he said, 'now you won't forget me.'

Andre still visits Pa on Saturdays. The beautiful card sits beside his chair. Andre hands it to him each visit. Pa always looks at it carefully, as if it was new, turning it over and over.

'You still remember me don't you?' Andre whispers, putting his arms around the old man's neck.

Pa looks up from the card and stares at him.

He doesn't talk anymore.

Copyright © 2013. Elizabeth Smart