Ripple in the Pond (Short Story)

She was gone. Dalilah could already guess from the minute Father came in. The door opened and shut with a quiet click — there weren’t any “I’m home!” announcements, nor any sound at all.

Dalilah stood up from her armchair at once. Her brother Dru followed suit, and they both rushed to Father. His expression halted them in their steps, so they didn’t clamor around him like usual. Dalilah and Dru stood near him, stunned by Father’s sweaty forehead and desperate look. Dalilah’s Mother joined them and asked what happened when Father’s bottom lip quivered. As he was about to move, he collapsed and broke into a sob.

The noise rang through the quiet, leaving a dizzy ringing in Dalilah’s ears. Father crying? Dalilah had never seen Father cry. There were times when he almost cried, sure, but even then Father always stayed calm. But now…he looked as if someone punched him in the gut.

Mother ran to Father and put her arm around him. Dalilah and Dru rushed to join them. So there they were, sitting together on the cold floor, listening to Father’s raggedy breathing and the distant tick-tock of the grandfather clock.

Minutes passed by. Dalilah didn’t know how many, she had already lost count. Her mind was far elsewhere. Dalilah’s heart was cold with fear as she wondered what had happened that caused Father such a breakdown. Her stomach twisted with her desire to know more, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Not with Father like that. Dalilah could see Mother also aching with curiosity, her face conveying worry. Dalilah’s brother Dru fidgeted, glancing here and there but mostly at Father.

Finally, Father’s breathing got steadier. Everyone turned at him, and Father began his story. He had to come home from work early that day because his mother — Dalilah’s grandmother, Granna — had called him, crying on the phone.

It was about Dalilah’s great-grandmother, Gramonda. She was a sweet but frail old lady in her nineties. Most would say that a long life is a blessing, but Dalilah thought it was a curse. Dalilah had seen how Gramonda had spent been ill and bed-confined in recent years. Today, Gramonda contracted a high fever. It was severe.

Father wiped his eyes. He couldn’t believe it.

Neither could Dalilah. Gramonda’s smile was fresh in Dalilah’s mind. The toothless, gummy smile of Gramonda towards her great-grandchildren at the family gatherings. She smiled that smile at Dalilah as they got out of the car to go to the Peking’s Duck restaurant. Dalilah would fidget with her dress’ buttons and smile politely back at Gramonda. Granna would then come and push Gramonda away on her wheelchair, but she would still keep smiling as she passed by Dalilah. Dalilah was about ten at that time.

Father exhaled, trying to keep his breath steady. “And then?” Mother asked gently. Father continued, saying that he had rushed to Gramonda’s house as fast as he could. Gramonda was lying on her bed. The blankets were all put away and anxious family members were fussing around her.

Dalilah knew Gramonda had to stay in bed only in the few recent years. Dalilah knew that in her younger days, Gramonda loved to go bustling about. Hiking here, backpacking there. She used to be the paragon of beauty, robust and healthy. Now, she was reduced into a ghost of her younger self — like how the freshest apple had shrunken, how the beautiful blossom had withered. First, she couldn’t walk anymore and had to use a wheelchair. Now, she couldn’t even leave her bed.

Gramonda’s middle-aged nanny, Nanah, was bustling about in her stern, matronly manner. Checking Gramonda’s temperature, getting tea for the family members, comforting Dalilah’s fussy Granna. Nanah kept tsk-ing at Granna and the other grandmas, saying that Gramonda would be alright, of course. Granna was being fussy and Nanah would have none of that. But despite everything, Nanah’s eyes were dark with worry.

Then Father came and everyone immediately clamored to him, asking him whether Gramonda would be alright or not. Father remained calm as he could and took charge. Father felt for Gramonda’s heartbeat, then took her temperature. They were all very anxious, whispering, fidgeting as if they were children once more. To her credit, Gramonda remained calm, eyes closed, her lips curving to a small smile despite all the chaos.

Dalilah could imagine how Gramonda smiled there. Her smile was beautiful and she always saved it for everyone. Dalilah recalled when she accidentally knocked tea onto Gramonda’s lap at her 93rd birthday. Everyone else had stared at Dalilah in absolute horror. Gramonda’s salmon-pink skirt now had a big dark splotch. Dalilah’s head was spinning, too horrified to look anywhere else. Her face flushed with embarrassment.

Gramonda stared at her skirt, then looked up at her family. Their horrified expressions must’ve been hilarious because Gramonda laughed. A gentle, tinkling laugh. Like a fairy ringing a bell. Her laugh rested into her gentle smile and she patted Dalilah’s hand to tell her that it was alright.

And it was alright. Father said he heard her heartbeat still going on a steady pace, and the other family members collapsed into relieved sighs. Granna wasn’t comforted, though. She reminded Father that Gramonda’s temperatures were still high. Father agreed it was serious, and they called a doctor.

Father’s old classmate, Doctor Marshtel, came and said that Gramonda must be brought to the hospital immediately. She was in a fragile state because of her old age and the fever — no matter how severe — required an infusion.

Father and Granna turned pale at the thought of a hospital stay for the infusion. A large, bustling hospital with harsh fluorescent lights, faceless nurses in masks, and the smell of antiseptic. The place of sick people. And the sickly, elderly Gramonda would be there all alone.

But Doctor Marshtel said that if she didn’t go to the hospital and be treated for an infusion, her steady fever could get more severe and she could die. She could die in two days.

Father’s loud sob halted the story. Mother tightened her side hug and Dru patted Father’s back. Dalilah handed Father a tissue.

It was exactly like how Gramonda handed Dalilah a tissue at her 93rd birthday tea disaster. Dalilah said it would be better used to dry Gramonda’s skirt, but Gramonda said no. She insisted Dalilah take it and use it to clean the mess that was on the table instead. Gramonda could use her own handkerchief instead. Dalilah looked at the tissue, then Gramonda’s wrinkled hand, then Gramonda’s 100-watt smile. Dalilah nodded and took the tissue. Gramonda winked at her. The entire family all looked relieved when Dalilah cleaned up the mess. They all agreed it was just an accident.

But now none of the family agreed with one another. They were all arguing about Gramonda now. The grandparents were convinced that Gramonda might contract a new disease at the hospital. She would be vulnerable and lonely there with no one accompanying her, making it possible for her to get sicker. Gramonda should stay in her bed and get better naturally, for her fever was rather steady. On the other hand, the aunties and uncles insisted that Gramonda could get worse and needed professional help from the hospital. The hospital was the only solution. And so they all stood there, bickering and yelling out their opinions.

“Maybe Gramonda h-heard it,” Father whispered quietly. “She must’ve heard it. Our arguments. I-I guess she knew what a fight we were having about her. So she decided for herself. She passed. P-passed away.”

Dalilah felt a hollow drop in her stomach as if missing and falling down several steps of stairs. Dalilah actually felt the color drain from her face. Mother let out a shriek and covered her mouth in horror. Dru was distraught, looking from Father to Mother to Dalilah to the clock to the floor to his feet and then to Father.

“She’s in heaven now,” Father said, forcing the words out of his mouth as matter-of-factly as possible. He wiped his chin and blinked his eyes furiously.

Dalilah felt dizzy. Her vision blurred, turning into only fuzzy colors, sounds, shapes. When she closed her eyes, she saw Gramonda. The vision took her aback. The Gramonda that Dalilah saw was from a faint memory, resurfacing from deep inside her mind.

“You have big, round eyes like longans, young Dalilah, yes you do,” cooed a beautiful, white-haired lady in the memory. “Just like Gramonda.” She was staring right at Dalilah. Dalilah hadn’t remembered this memory, had totally forgotten its existence. Until now.

Gramonda would never smile at her family members again. She would never pass by Dalilah in her wheelchair again. She would never join another gathering with the entire family again. Her birthdays would never be celebrated again. Most of all, she would never be the younger, beautiful lady who was once still able to walk around, carrying her great-granddaughter Dalilah in her arms and coo to her.

The family wouldn’t be the same. Father wouldn’t be the same. They lost their great-grandmother, their grandmother, the matriarch. Because like a ripple in the pond, everything had changed.