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  • Route 7 Review

Last Visit by Brandon Everett

Brandon Everett is a fiction and non-fiction writer. The genres he writes include: science-fiction, paranormal, noir, thriller, and the supernatural. He is the author of the novel "The Undoubtedly True Narrative of the Yetiman," and the short story collection "Release the Kaizen! Stories and Poems from an Evolving Writer." His works have been featured in DarkWinter Literary Press and Magazine, Livina Press, and The Chabot Review. Everett graduated with a master's in English from California State University East Bay and currently serves as the Administrative Support Coordinator for Cal State East Bay's Student Center for Academic Achievement. He was born and raised in the Bay Area and resides there still to this day with his wife, Cristina.


Last Visit



The sun dipped below the hills just outside the window, casting an unforgiving orange hue across


their snowy peaks. My time was drawing short.


“Aren’t you cold, Dad? It’s chilly in here.”


“Nah, I’m fine,” he said between labored breaths. “Hold my hand, before you go?”


He always asked this, as if I hadn’t spent every visit at his bedside, hand in hand.


“Dad, they’re going to kick me out.”


“Just–one–more–minute...Junebug.”


I set my jacket and bag down next to the doorway and walked the few steps back to his


side. The monitor in the corner beeped in step, a metronome of life telling me his heart was still


beating. I grabbed his hand, which was icy to the touch.


“You’re freezing, Dad!”


“How could I be, with you by my side!” Smiling, he barely got the thought out before the


coughing started again.


“Better take it easy, Mr. Billings!” The doctor’s voice boomed across the room as he


entered, scanning a clipboard with papers that said too many hard things to accept. “Miss, it’s


time your father gets some rest.”


Dad’s eyes are what I remember most, glistening back at me like familiar jewels as I


walked away from him for the last time. You would think it would be his cold hands, but no. I


made sure to turn the heat up on the thermostat before leaving, so I know he was warm


when...when...


“Goodbye Dad.”


“Love you, Junebug.”


Yeah. He was warm.


And his eyes were diamonds.



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