You tend to notice a lot more when you're bound to a wheelchair. When your old and fragile bones have started to break down and wither, you have no choice but to sit in the least obstructive place possible and listen to the conversations of the others around you. This has been my place for the last four years. Sitting in the corner of Riley’s, my daughter's, living room, her old, tartan blanket draped over my knees and a glass of brandy in my hand. And it was the nice kind, it was a special occasion. My 80th. Surprisingly, barely anyone had approached me to wish me a happy birthday. Nearly all of the guests at the party had arrived and practically dived for the drinks, my sister having down at least three before I had even arrived. She was only two years younger than me. But, after this many years on planet Earth, you start to accept how people react to anything. Honestly, I didn’t mind being alone in a room of people, it gave me time to study them, to get a sense of what kind of person they are. And I think I've mastered it.

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Whenever Elton, my son and older than Riley by four years, visits me or goes anywhere, he is usually carrying his son, Lewis, and daughter, Zoey, with him. His wife, however, rarely accompanies them. I have been told why so many times but I have chosen to ignore the excuses Elton and Riley come up with, the woman was horrid. She was Elton’s second wife, the first having died soon after Lewis was born. I liked Elton’s first wife, she was nice and sweet. His new one isn’t. I haven’t even bothered to learn her name. I'm pretty sure it starts with an ‘L’ but it might be a ‘G’, but I also don’t care.

 

However, as I said, Lewis and Zoey always accompany Elton whenever he visits, and they have certainly grown since I last saw them, Lewis having entered his emo phase, wearing his hair long and dyeing it black. It didn’t suit him, but I'm sure he’s happy with it. He is sitting across from me, legs crossed and phone in hand, oblivious to the people passing him every moment. He was clearly freshly shaven, or at least I thought he was. His jaw definitely seemed to have that freshly-shaven look to it, not that I would know what that was anymore, my own beard now messy and unkempt, it's brown having faded into a white forest of intertwined branches that was somehow able to pick up any item of food or droplet of beer that approached my lips. I narrowed my eyes at him. Then, Zoey appeared at his side and he groaned, pulling away from the girl. I chuckled and my gaze fell to her. She was much younger than him, much, much younger. The boy was seventeen, the last time I checked, and the girl was five. It was a large gap, but I had promised my son when Zoey was born that I wouldn’t judge him or his new wife, and I didn’t. I only judged her.

 

I chuckled again and moved my eyes away from the siblings, leaving them to bicker and tease one another in peace. My eyes landed on my sister, Ruth, and my heart sank slightly. She was still drinking. I would go over to her if I could, but as soon as I start to move, my daughter rushes to my side and takes me to the bathroom, despite my protests. I know she means well. By this point, and I wasn’t counting, Ruth was on her sixth drink. She had slowed down once I arrived, but I could tell she was trying to reach for the nearest bottle whenever she thought no one was watching. But I always was. Since her partner’s death, Ruth had started drinking more heavily. At first, it was a joke, one she joined in on by claiming she was now drinking for two, but after a year or two, the joke became less and less humorous. We spoke to her and she agreed, she was drinking too much.

 

The year following was good, she drank less and seemed happier, but after a while, I started to notice the little things. She would forget what she was talking about often, she would sway and giggle at nothing. No one else seems to notice and I wasn’t sure why, maybe it was because they didn’t want to accept the fact that she was a drunk. Soon after, I became wheelchair-bound and it became impossible for me to speak to her. Every time I would try to bring the subject up, she would fake something or other and walk away, my arms too weak to push myself forward to speak to her.

 

I sighed pitifully at her and moved my eyes away as she reached for another bottle of some kind of liquid. I couldn’t bear to watch her. Forcing the tears in my eyes away, I tried to find something a little happier, something to make my heart sore. But my eyes landed on the tall, slim figure of Jane, Elton’s new wife. She had actually come this time. She looked over at me and gave a little, nervous wave but I scowled in response. Seeing our eyes locked, Elton brought her over, a false smile on his face. He knew what was happened.

 

“Hey, Dad,” he said cheerfully and keeping Jane attached to his hip. “You see Jane arrive?”

 

“I didn’t,” I said gruffly. Jane’s face flashed a curious emotion before clicking back to its false grin.

 

“Well, doesn’t matter Geoff,” she said, patting my knee delicately and instantly regretting it. “I'm here now.”

 

“Yes, you are,” I responded. With a heavy sigh, Elton turned Jane around and they walked back into the party, bickering and hissing at one another. I couldn’t exactly make out what each of them were saying, but I was sure they were talking about me and my relationship with Jane, or lack of one. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Zoey, I just don’t like the chamber she was birthed from. Shaking my head gently, I tried to think about something else. Anything else. This resulted in my eyes landing on the garden and the sun that was gently beaming down against the grass. I felt a smile greet my lips. It had been a while since I've seen the sun. My home, which wasn’t far from Riley by request, didn’t have a large garden and my carer never faced me towards what little land there was outback, resulting in my staring at my television for hours at a time. Luckily, I had discovered how to master the remote. The appearance of the sun was glorious. Its light bounced off the green grass and azure pond which sat at the base of the garden. The tree that stood tall and proud at the edge of the pond was gently rocked in the breeze, whistling past the nest that was nested in its branches. It was peaceful. A hand landing on my shoulder tore me away from it.

 

“Dad!” Riley shouted, grinning with a cake in her arms, several candles ablaze and stuck into its frosting. I never did understand the appeal of shoving wax into cakes and then setting them alight. It seemed too risky for my taste. Realising I hadn't responded to Riley, I smiled and looked at her. “Make your wish!” she excitedly said. I looked back at the cake and drew in as much air as I could into my lungs before pushing it out again. All the candle went out in one blow. I hadn't lost my touch. My mood perked a little, I cheered with everyone and grinned as I was brought a slice of cake, devouring it easily before my deliverer had a chance to leave. They frowned at me but laughed, walking away to speak to someone else. Then, Zoey appeared at my side, resting her hands on the arm of my wheelchair, looking at me with her large, round emerald eyes. I’ll give Jane one thing, she knows how to make a cute grandchild.

 

“How can I help you?” I asked softly. Zoey blinked and smiled.

 

“What did you wish for?” she asked. I chuckled and allowed her to crawl onto my lap, bearing the brief amount of pain it caused. Once she was still, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close, tickling the top of her head with my beard. She giggled.

 

“Now, if I told you,” I whispered to her, looking back out at the crowd. “Then it wouldn’t come true.” Zoey pouted and shuffled, digging her boney bum into my thigh.

 

“I promise I won't tell,” she pleaded. I chuckled again, squeezing her slightly as my eyes landed on Ruth once again, who was taking another sip from another glass. I sighed, then looked down at the five-year-old in my lap. I faked a deep sigh.

 

“Fine,” I said and leaned down to her ear. Zoey gasped once I finished, looking at me in shock.

 

“Really?” she asked. I nodded quickly, gesturing to Ruth. Zoey nodded diligently and jumped off my lap, rushing over to her great aunt and pulling the glass from her. Ruth stared at the girl, surprised and shocked. Then, Zoey pointed at me and marched away, secretly taking a sip and spitting it out. I laughed. Looking back at Ruth, I found the woman to be walking towards me, a sorrowful smile on her face.

 

“Did you really get a child to do your dirty work?” she asked. I nodded as I knocked against the wheel of my wheelchair.

 

“I've got to start my Bond-villain career somehow,” I joked. Ruth laughed and sat in the chair beside me, staring at her hand. Despite the noise from the people around us, all I could hear was silence. It was unusual for Ruth to be this quiet.

“I'm sorry,” she muttered. I turned my head to her. “For drinking, I mean.” I nodded slowly. “It's just after Arthur, you went into hospital, and all I could think about was when Dad…” Her words devolved into sobs as she leaned against me. “I just feel so alone, Geoff.”

 

“I know, I know,” I sighed, gently patting her head comfortingly. “I'm still here though.”

 

“But for how long?” she sobbed, sniffing and wiping her cheeks clean of tears. I opened my mouth to comfort her again, but my mind stopped at her words. She was right. Within a year, I had lost my legs completely and I had been warned that other body parts would follow. The doctors I had spoken to were brief and caring, but I hadn't listened, all I had heard was: “We don’t know.” The words were haunting. I had spent the following week trying to forget about them, trying to force them out so I could focus and concentrate on my life, or what was left of it.

 

Until that day, I hadn't really thought about death. Or at least, when it would come. My father had died suddenly and unexpectedly and my mother in a similar way, but they both died quickly and relatively painlessly. Any aunts or uncles I had, however, mainly lived full and happy lives, producing a stream of cousins that lived similarly. It was only my side that seemed to suffer the most, Ruth and I above all. When our father died, we were adults, so we could take care of everything he left. But, when our mother died, we were teenagers, too consumed with ourselves and our growing lives to spend time with our grieving father. I had always felt regret and disappointment whenever I thought back to that time. Disappointment that I never stopped to think about my dear old dad, how he suffered so alone for so long. I always thought I was the one that pushed him to his limit, that I caused what killed him. I knew I didn’t, but the feeling kept coming back.

 

I turned my attention back to Ruth, who had halted crying and was now laughing at Zoey as she tried to get Lewis outside with her. I laughed with her, patting her shoulder comfortingly. She turned back to me, a spark of life resting in her hazel orbs. It was the first time I had seen her spark in a long time. She frowned at me and pulled back slightly, but a smile spread across her face.

 

“What?” she asked. I shrugged and stroked her shoulder.

 

“Nothing,” I answered as I pulled her close. Yes, my approaching demise was scary, but I wasn’t afraid. I had done everything I wanted, everything I needed. Ruth was a tough girl, she just needed someone to help her take the first step. And I hope I've helped her make it. It's strange what runs through your head when your contemplating death, or at least you know when its arrival is due. You start to look back through your life, what you did right and what you did wrong. But for me, I've done nothing wrong. I've made mistakes, but who hasn’t? Every decision I've made built me into the person sitting in this wheelchair, and I like who I've become.

 

As that thought crossed my mind, my eyes landed on Jane, who was still attached to Elton’s side. I sighed and narrowed my eyes at her. She was shaking. Then, I realised. She was here for me. Ruth had been drinking more and Jane had instantly tried to talk to me. She understood I wasn’t going to last much longer. Before I realised I was staring, Jane’s eyes flicked up and met mine. Neither of us moved. It didn’t know what to do. Since we met, I had been building up this persona, I became the disapproving father-in-law. With my mind black, I just smiled and nodded, raising the still yet-to-be-touched glass of brandy in my hand at her. A smile instantly appeared and her shaking stopped and she returned to the conversation she was having. A smile appeared on my own face and I looked back at Ruth, who had now stopped crying entirely. Noticing my eyes on her again, she looked at me with a quizzical expression.

 

“What it is, Geoff?” she asked. “Really? You alright?” I laughed and took a sip from my brandy.

 

“Ruth,” I said. “I am perfectly fine.” Beaming and nodded, Ruth patted my arm and stood, walking over to Riley who was bringing out another batch of snacks for people to share, offering her help. I smiled as I watched them leave and took another sip as once again, I faded into the corner of the room.