Grandpa "L"

"Grandpa L, can you please tell us the story!?" yelled little Alice while squirming on the bench, visibly cold.

"Yes grandpa L, we really want to know about grandma Irene", her older brother John added.

They tried many times to convince their grandfather to open up about their grandmother, but he was a hard nut to crack. Given the place they were at right now, they thought that this was the perfect opportunity to inquire one more time.

Leon, or "Grandpa L" slowly raised his head and glanced at the gravestone. The light afternoon snow could never hide what was chiseled in there.

'Irene Swain 1949-1990 beloved wife and mother, forever in our hearts'.

Silently sighing, he took a candle from his jacket pocket, lit it up and placed it on the grave. As if following a routine, he then took a bottle of Japanese sake and two ceramic flasks from the bag he was carrying.

'The devil's in the details'

He remebered the old saying, and after double-checking that everything was prepared correctly, he poured the sake in one of the ceramic flasks and placed it on the grave, next to the burning candle.

Remembering Irene's usual speech about "proper etiquette", he smirked and poured one flask for himself. He hoped that she would forgive him for this, given the circumstances.

Only after all of that did he return to the bench where his grandchildren were closely watching his every move, took a sip from the flask and slowly said:

"Your grandmother really loved to drink this.", surprising both Alice and John.

They expected that their grandfather would switch the subject, as he did many times before, so they remained silent. Satisfied with their demeanor, Leon continued:

"I guess I never told you about her. It is not because I don't want you to know, it is just too painful for me to remember and talk about everything. However, since today is a special occasion, I will answer a few questions you have."

As if they couldn't wait, Alice and John started bombarding him with questions they kept for a long time.

"What was she like!?"

"What did she do!?"

"How did you meet!?"

"Can we see her picture!?"

"Enough! One question at a time, do not be impatient, that is not how your parents and I taught you to behave." Leon stated, and then took out a silver pocket watch from his coat.

"We're sorry grandpa L" Children exclaimed, as if afraid that they ruined their chances of ever hearing the story.

Leon really loved that nickname, and their puppy eyes only made it harder for him to get angry so he continued:

"My dear Irene was a kind woman, with a strong moral upbringing. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she held herself... It was captivating. Anyone that even gazed at her couldn't just as easily look away. It was the same for me, on that faithful night in Tokyo, many, many years ago. A devastating earthquake had just happened, and there she was, helping people out of rubble despite her own injuries. I heard her mention that she was a pediatrician, and approached her carrying a distressed boy, asking for her help. I still remember the smile that she gave me, and the way she reassured the boy that everything was going to be just fine..."

Leon then opened the silver pocket watch and a small picture of a couple saw the light of day after who knows how long. A blank gaze at it brought back painfull nightmares of translucent shadows in a room barely lit by a half-broken lamp.

"This is the only picture I have left of her. Actually, the only memento that still exists, since she gave it to me only a few hours before her death."

He gave the pocket watch to John and Alice to look at, while he tried to cut out the painful memory of his 13th anniversary, that already crawled back into his mind once more. If only he gave in to their demands, if only he didn't try to be a hero, if only.... maybe she would still be alive, maybe she would get to know her cute grandchildren the way he did. That same regret has been haunting him for 29 years, and was still able to bring him to tears.

"Grandpa L, how did... how did grandma Irene die?" Alice asked, while trying to hide her tears from their grandfather.

Leon could never bring himself to lie to his grandchildren no matter what they wanted to know. If there was something that he couldn't or didn't want to answer, he would deflect and avoid the subject as if his life depended on it, but this time he told them the truth, well at least the short version of it:

"She jumped in front of a bullet that was meant for me. She saved my life that day, at the cost of hers."

Leon just didn't want the burglars to take away Irene's engagement ring, a uslesess trinket from this standpoint, but instead of just a ring he lost Irene and his whole house in a fire that his decision to act has caused. The picture in the pocket watch was the only thing, other than himself, that endured the flames.

"Grandma Irene was so brave." John revealed his thoughts after a brief silence. He didn't get to meet her, but just one glance at his grandfather and it was enough for the tears to gush out.

"Thank you for telling us about her grandpa L" Alice uttered, clenching her brother's hand.

"Yeah gramps, cool story"

A rasp voice that did not belong to his grandchildren startled Leon. He turned around and saw a man in a hood pointing what seemed to be a gun at them. His warped state of mind was clearly manifested in the menacing stare and still bloody scratch marks on the rugged jowl.

"Now, I don't want to seem rude or anything, so fork over your wallet and valuables or your precious grandchildren wont be as lucky as you were in your cute little story."

The threat, as if repeating the dark history, hit Leon like a friendly bullet to the back.

He was more than familiar with this dreadful situation and didn't plan on making the same mistake, so he grabbed his wallet as fast as he could and tossed it over:

"Here, take it and leave us alone"

The man picked up the wallet and casually added: "Oh, and the pocket watch too, I bet it is worth quite a bit of quids". What followed was a grin so wide it revealed his golden tooth.

"Nooo!!!" John yelled, still squeezing the pocket watch in his hand. His eyes had't dried out yet.

"Zip it kid, and toss it over, or I'll take it from your cold bloody hands!" the man declared, almost losing his patience. His hand moved towards his bloody scratch marks almost imediately.

"John just give it to him, it is not worth your life" Leon screamed. He knew the value of trinkets all to well. Watching John make the same choice as him tortured his soul.

"No grandpa, it is your only keepsake of grandma Irene" John stubbornly murmured.

"Fine kid, have it your way", the man said while aiming his gun.

Something was not right. Who would shoot a crying kid?

The already murky winter afternoon only got darker. There was no time to beg, there was no time to shout "You are my keepsake" or anything similar. There was only time to act.

*Bang*

...

"Grandpaa!"

"Police! Stop!"

"Shit"

Those were the last words Leon heard. Even though he was in his late seventies his body moved incredibly fast. He jumped in front of the gun, the same way Irene did on that night 29 years ago. He fell hard, with a muffled thup, his blood quickly mixed with the snow on the ground.

The last thought that went trough his mind was 'Irene, I am on my way'.