Daniela Sandoval Q4 Portfolio Branching Out | Página 8

06

Delirium

The weather outside was incredibly warm and humid, as Jacob felt his T-shirt stick to his sweaty back and his hair to his dripping forehead. It was like any other day of early June, living in the countryside. After a quick supper, Jacob and his cousins would go outside and play with this one bouncy red ball.

The grass would be incredibly green and still a little wet from last night’s dew. Jacob had five close cousins with whom he would play during summer time. Nathaniel, the eldest, was twelve years old; followed by Sebastian who was ten; then Mary who was the same age as Jacob, ten. And the babies of the group were Adeline—who was six— and Elizabeth who was just four.

“Mary! Mary! Pass me the ball, Mary!” Jacob would scream and glide on his knees through the bright green grass—leaving his khaki shorts all stained.

“JACOB!” suddenly rumbled through the field as his mother scolded him for getting his trousers dirty. “Why don’t you ever take care of your stuff? Things aren’t just free.”

Jacob stood there staring with disconsolate eyes as her mother went back inside—knowing that by the day everything would have been forgotten, but still feeling guilty for both not understanding and getting yelled at in front of his cousins. A childish innocence pouring from his eyes. He has never understood the concept of money or why her mother was so obsessed with it. But right then Jacob felt a scrawny arm around his shoulders and turning to see who it was, striking blonde hair laid on his shoulder.

“Come on. It’s your turn with the ball,” Mary said quietly as she looked up at him; her bright blue eyes full of encouragement. Then she set on a sprint towards their other cousins, Jacob in tow, both laughing to the top of their lungs.

“Mary! Wait for me!”

His skin is really red, Mary would think as she looked down at her father in the rigid hospital bed. He had fallen into a severe pneumonia last week when he had left the bedroom window open on a particularly chilly day. Jacob been swimming in and out of a fever ever since. Sometimes he would mumble incomprehensible words in his dreams. And other times the Mary could hear the clear distinction of a few names, such as Nathaniel, Sebastian, Adeline, Elizabeth and Mary. But Mary didn’t think her father was talking about her, but about someone long forgotten through the years. She had heard once, that his father had a late cousin who died of pneumonia when they were both still kids. A sweet girl with blue eyes and blonde braids that feel down her shoulders—she has seen in a few old pictures—whom father loved very fondly.

“Pass the ball,” Mary thought she heard her father mumble once more through ragged breaths of old-age. Her father had played ball with her often when she was little. They would play tag through the jungle gym of the park, or kick a ball around in their backyard.

But now he laid there, immobile, fighting off a terrible fever; calling out to a long lost Mary who apparently played ball.