Sugar in the tea

Hospices always had that smell. Not awful, just fake clean. Like flowers sprayed with bleach. Isobel walked slowly down the corridor, same way she always did. Nothing rushed, red carnations in one hand, soft old tote bag in the other. She knew where she was going.

Room 6C, last one at the end.

One of the nurses passed her with a clipboard tucked under her arm. “He’s been pretty sleepy today,” she said, like it was great news.

Isobel gave it a little smile, “That’s alright, he’s earned it.”

The nurse nodded, already half on to the next thing.

Isobel stopped just before the door. Smoothed down the front of her coat, checked her reflection in the glass. Just enough. Soft face and kind eyes. Like someone who knew what it meant to say.

Inside, Thomas looked small, smaller than last week. He sat up a bit, but his head had fallen to the side. A mug of tea sat untouched on his tray.

She took the wilted flowers from the vase and dropped them in the bin, replacing them with the new ones “They were out of white agin,” she said, more to the room than to him. “Hope red’s okay”

His eyelids fluttered, “Izzy?”

She sat at his bedside, “Hi. Love. I’m here.”

He tried to smile, “Tea?”

She picked it up. “Yeah, teaspoon of sugar, like always.”

He faintly nodded. “You’re too good to me.”

She didn’t reply, just took his hand. It was fragile, like tissue over bone. She held it gently.

“You’ve been through so much,” she said softly. “Your body is catching up.”

He was quiet after that. He drifted off and his breathing got slower. The nurse popped in a few minutes later, “Still asleep?”

“yeah,” Isobel said, faintly smiling. “Didn’t even drink his tea!”

“That’s okay,” said the nurse. “He’s lucky! Most don’t even get visitors.”

Isobel nodded, then looked back at him. She stayed after the nurse left, the room was quiet except for the soft beep of the monitor. His chest rose and fell - slower now.

She reached into her bag, pulling out an unmarked bottle. The one she always brought. Tipped the last few drops into the mug and lifted the cup to his lips.

“Just a bit more,” she whispered. “You’ll sleep better.”

He swallowed without waking. A few moments later, his breathing stopped.

She left after adjusting the blanket, setting the flowers just right. Everything looked so peaceful.

Outside, her phone buzzed in her coat pocket.

Tinder: “You’re late where are you?”

Isobel smiled to herself, checked her lipstick in the car mirror

“Just sugar in the tea,” she murmured.

And then she drove home.