One for you, Dad.

He arrived at the hospital just after six, as he’d been doing for weeks now. He couldn’t even recall exactly how long his father had been in hospital. The visits every night had become his new routine. Where he had once gone home after work, feet-up in front of the television with his wife, he now headed straight to the hospital, to catch the last hour of visiting with his dad. He moved quickly down the maze of hospital corridors. The winding corridors had become as familiar as the office building he worked in. He pushed the buzzer at the entrance to the ward and waited for the click of the doors to open.

He found his father sitting in the upright chair by the hospital bed, grinning when he saw him. He gave his dad a thumbs up and dragged a plastic chair over to sit facing.

‘Here he is.’ beamed his dad. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Here’s one for you, dad.’ he started. ‘When I left for work this morning, this truck was blocking me in.’

‘You are joking? Why do people do that? I hope you gave them what-for.’

‘I went over, asking what kind of idiot would park across someone’s drive.’

‘Good for you. I’d have done the same.’

‘The guy got out of the truck. He was a clown.’

‘A right clown, blocking you in like that.’ said his dad.

‘No, I mean a real clown, an actual clown, he had the red nose, face paint and these massive shoes.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, he asked me directions for the park. It turns out the circus is there for the Bank Holiday weekend and he’d got lost on the way.’

‘Fantastic.’ his dad laughed. ‘How on earth did he drive in those ridiculous shoes?’

‘I’ve really no idea.’

‘We should go to the circus this weekend.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘we’ll see.’

He found it best to humour his father and agree when he got confused. He wasn’t sure if that’s what he was supposed to do, but he found it best, if he nodded and went along with whatever he was saying. His father was in the hospital for the foreseeable future but if the thought of a trip to the circus kept his spirits up, then who was he to deprive him of that?

The following evening, his father was sitting in his chair. As usual, he was delighted to see his son, and greeted him warmly.

‘One for you, dad.’ he said.

His father shifted in the padded blue chair, leaning forward, eager to hear the latest his son had to tell him.

‘It kicked right off at work. One of the canteen microwaves had packed in. That meant that the whole company had to use the one microwave oven. Well, someone jumped the queue.’

‘No way!’

‘Yeah, it was like a Friday night in the Dover Castle.’

His father nodded at the mention of his local pub. The place was a bit rough but did a cracking pint of cask ale if you could get served before a fight broke out.

‘The warehouse manager accused this swanky sales rep of pushing in. When the rep asked him who he thought he was talking to, the warehouse lad decked him. It was like something from a Western.’

His father’s face lit up in amusement, as he imagined the scenes his son was describing.

‘I mean,’ his son said. ‘I don’t mind ready meals but they’re not worth fighting over.’

When his dad had finished wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes, he replied.

‘I’d bring sandwiches from now on, if I were you.’

A few nights later.

‘One for you, dad. I went to get my hair cut this afternoon. The barber was so chatty. I hate all that, I never know what to say. I feel like saying, just stop talking and cut my hair.’

‘You should tell them, or start cutting your hair yourself. I cut my own hair.’ said his dad.

‘To be fair, dad, you’ve not a lot of hair to cut.’

His father laughed and called him cheeky as he ran a hand across his bald head.

‘The barber says to me, are your kids keeping well?’ the son continued.

‘You haven’t got any kids.’ replied his dad.

‘No, but, I didn’t want to be rude and say, you’re getting me mixed up with someone else. So, I just said, yeah, the kids are fine.’

‘You didn’t!’

‘I did. And then the barber says, two boys, isn’t it? So, I said, yes, that’s right.’

‘That’s hilarious. Why didn’t you just say, I’ve not got kids?’

He shrugged, while his father’s shoulders shook with laughter.

‘I think I’m gonna have to get my hair cut somewhere else.’ he said.

‘Yeah, because he’ll be wondering why you don’t bring your boys in for a trim.’ his dad laughed.

He arrived home around eight o’clock that evening, his wife was watching football highlights on the television, the dog curled up next to her on the sofa.

‘How’s your day been?’ she asked.

‘I went to see dad but dull and boring apart from that. Another uneventful day, really.’

He went into the kitchen and poured himself a large measure of Irish whiskey.

He raised the glass in salute. One for you, dad.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom