Apricity.

You’re surrounded by ghosts when you lose someone. Especially a child. Here, in my boy’s bedroom – Kai’s room – lying on his bed, surrounded by his toys in the waning afternoon sun, it’s the ghost of his smell.

Simon sits beside me, suitcase at his feet. He twists the wedding band from his finger, places it on Kai’s bedside and says, “I can’t do this anymore. You can’t either. When was the last time you ate? Or showered?” He looks at the trace of a Batman transfer tattoo on my forearm. Another ghost.

It’s the same tattoo Kai had during his last hospital stay. We watched it disappear as our beautiful boy faded. Gradually losing colour. Becoming fainter. Until, one day, a week after his sixth birthday, his body gave up. Leukaemia.

“He’s gone,” Simon says.

No. He’s not.

***

I start awake to Kai’s voice in the gloaming.

“Help me, Mummy. I feel weak.”

I think of the ghost of a tattoo on my arm.

“It’s OK, Baby.” I stumble out of the bedroom into the shadowy hall of our little apartment. Mail litters the doormat by the front door.

“Don’t leave, Mummy.”

“I’m coming.” I feel weak too. Not hungry. I haven’t felt hungry for… days? Weeks? But I should eat, I guess. I feel for the light switch.

Click-click-click. Nothing.

I feel my way to the kitchen. The bin reeks. I open the fridge and reach into the darkness. My fingers squish into something organic, something rotten. There’s a carton of milk, but it’s off.

I find Kai’s tattoo patches where I left them, by the sink. Smoothing one onto my arm, I wet a wad of tissue under the tap and hold it on the patch, counting to thirty before peeling the silky backing away.

Just then, my head swims. I grab the sink and close my eyes.

When it passes and I open my eyes again, it’s light. Soft and sunny.

On my arm, a dazzling Superman smiles at me. I smile back, feeling and – the reflection in the kitchen window confirms – looking good.

“Mummy, let’s play!”

I walk towards Kai’s voice. And there he is, my beautiful boy, cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, sunlight streaming through the window.

And we play.

And read his favourite books.

And watch his favourite movies.

And I try not to rub the tattoo on my arm, but bit by bit, as time passes – who knows how long – Superman fades. And Kai and I grow tired. And the sunlight and warmth seep away. And as the shadows deepen, we curl up in Kai’s bed. And I lose myself in his smell.

***

“Mummy! I feel weak.”

I start awake in darkness.

“It’s OK, Baby.” Heart racing, head spinning, I fumble my way to the kitchen, casting around on the draining board for a tattoo patch until I find one of the silky squares. I place it on my forearm.

“Help me, Mummy!”

“I’ll be with you soon, Baby.”

Prompts
Genre: Ghost story
Action: Asking for help
Object: A temporary tattoo