Bob sat at the end of a paper-covered folding table and stared at the wall in front of him. He couldn’t make out the pictures, it was all so blurry lately. His knees hit the underside of the table but Marcy had said it was the only spot for his wheelchair. So he sat back, hands folded, patient.

Screams and a thud erupted from the kitchen behind him followed by giggling and then admonishments from what could only be a mothers voice. He stared at the photos wondering if he was in any of them.

“Hey, Grandpa.”

His granddaughter Kelly climbed up onto the folding chair next to him sitting on her knees. He winced thinking of his own knees being folded up under him.

“Hi dear, how are you?”

“Fine.” She took out a phone too big for her hands and started pushing and sliding on it, her pigtail curls bouncing with the motions. He knew he had lost her.

“How’s school?”

“It’s summer Grandpa, duh.”

“Ah yes, I see.” He stared down at his folded hands. Three times a year he was brought here. One for his daughters birthday, one for Kelly’s birthday and Christmas. Three times a year and each time he felt further from them. It felt functional and performative. No one wanted him here, he had to be brought here because that’s what good, moral people did. How long could this go on?

“I hope I die soon.”

“What?” Kelly looked up from her phone.

“What, dear?”

“You said you hope you die? Why?”

“I did?” He looked at her bright blue eyes staring at him with full attention. “Oh, I guess I may have. It was just an old person talking, don’t mind me.”

She chewed her lip. “Die means you’re gone. Johnny-5 died when he got loose from his cage. I never saw him again.”

“He’s in a better place.” He patted her hand. “Everything dies eventually.”

“Even me?”

“Even you. But not until you’re older than me of course. You’re still young.” He smiled.

“How old are you, Grandpa? Like one million?”

He laughed. A hoarse sound to his ears, he couldn’t remember the last time he laughed. “Close.”

“Well, don’t die yet. We’re having cake. Do you like cake?” The phone in her hands had turned off but she didn’t notice.

“I love cake.”

“I’ll share mine with you.”

“That’d be great. So show me what you do on the little rectangle block.”

“It’s a phone, Grandpa!” She squealed with delight at her smartness and then opened the phone to show him her games.

He couldn’t follow a word she said but he listened to her rambling and it filled his heart. For now, he was still a part of this world.