The Memory Jigsaw

• Jack De Valle, Grade 9N, Nossal High School - Monash University Campus
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

Steadily, Walter paces down the nursing home corridor. The entire place seems to embody the odours of disinfectant, tea and biscuits. Various colourful prints of antique paintings line the walls. The staff recognise him and smile as he passes. He smiles back. He stops at the wooden door to his grandmother’s room and knocks on it as he enters.
He finds her napping on her bed. She awakes at the sound of his voice.
“Hello, Gran!” he says, putting on a brave face. From what he sees on her countenance, she can’t remember who he is, but she knows she’s happy to see him.
“For heaven’s sake! I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she exclaims, her face beaming, revealing her toothless mouth. She’s lost her dentures. Again, He thinks. As if it were instinct, she wraps her arms around him and kisses his brow.
“How have you been?” he inquires.
“Good. There’s been not…much…of the…” she attempts to reply.
“Not much happening?” Walter asks, attempting to help her find her words.
“Yes. Not much,” she says, clearly relieved that she could say what she wanted to.
“Shall we do a jigsaw?” Walter suggests. They both do the same one every Sunday, but she doesn’t know that. She enjoys it every time.
“Yes. That’d be great,” she replies. She shuffles towards her table and sits in her plush, leather chair. She gestures for Walter to take the other one beside her. Walter opens the jigsaw box spreads all the pieces out on the table. Together they start putting the pieces together, starting with the edges, and working in.
As he guides her through the puzzle, his mind begins to wander. He remembers back to the times of his boyhood, when the two of them would have countless outings and conceived untold mischief. She used to spoil him rotten! One day in particular, he recalls going to the museum in the morning, eating at The Pancake Parlour for lunch and going bowling in the afternoon. His mother was not impressed.
He snaps out of his daze. All the loose pieces on the table are gone, and a picture of London Bridge remains, however there are 12 piece-size gaps in the picture. Last week there were only 10 missing pieces. This week she must have lost more, he observes.
“It was nice to see you Gran, but I’d better go. I’ve got some groceries to buy on the way home,” he explains, rising from his seat to leave. She rises as well, she’ll see him off, as always.
“Let’s do the… jigsaw again, some time,” she says excitedly. She walks him to the door.
“Sure, we’ll do it again next Sunday. Just don’t go losing anymore pieces,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches for the handle.
“I won’t,” She says, smiling sincerely. But they both know otherwise.