Still With Me

by Thierry Cohen

  The mixture of surprise and joy at seeing him, and his embarrassment over the circumstances, confused Jeremy. He panicked. What did his son want with him? Why did he look so kind? Had he already seen him in this pitiful condition?

  Simon sat facing him. He seemed embarrassed and pursed his lips like he was holding back an uncertain expression.

  Jeremy tried to talk but could only extract one stifled syllable from his mouth.

  Not knowing what to say or do, Simon showed him the present and placed it on Jeremy’s knees, smiling. “I’ll open it for you if you want.”

  Jeremy was happy to hear how casually he spoke to him now.

  Simon tore open the package and brought out a cap and scarf. He hesitated before placing the scarf around his father’s neck. Next he placed the cap on his head and stood back to examine his work. “I think it looks pretty good.”

  Jeremy bobbed his head slightly in thanks and gently raised his arm. He was delighted to see Simon so caring. He tried to breathe gently to say a few words. But once again, he could only emit a series of grotesque noises.

  “You want to talk to me? The nurses told me you can write with your right hand. They gave me paper and a pen.”

  So he still had one way to communicate left. Jeremy took the sheet of paper and pen and wrote: “Why did you come to see me?”

  Simon took the paper and read the question. He didn’t lift his head right away. He thought a moment, a sad grin twisting his lips. “Because it’s your birthday. And today, maybe you’re my father.”

  The words shocked Jeremy. With a single movement, he took back the paper. “Have you come before, since the last time we met?”

  Simon nodded. “Yes, often. And on every one of your birthdays. You’ve never asked questions.”

  The two men exchanged a deep look that let so many words, so many affectionate gestures, so many regrets, and so much joy circulate between them.

  “On each of my visits, I hoped for a sign. A look that would help me understand whether I had in front of me the man I left in that hotel room. The first five years, you refused to see me. Then I forced my presence on you, but you remained cold, unapproachable. I saw your eyes moving, trying to understand what I was doing there. I knew every time you weren’t your normal self. That inside your frozen body you were that other person. It wasn’t like today. It’s strange, but somehow I knew right away.”

  Jeremy’s eyes misted over. His son had found him, cared for him.

  Simon took his hand. “What did you do to become like this?” he asked quietly. “There wasn’t any other way?”

  “Maybe, but I didn’t have a choice. Tell me about yourself, your life, your brother. And your mother.”

  “You think it’s a good idea?” Simon asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Jeremy replied affirmatively. “Mom and Thomas don’t know how you got this way. I never told them about the time we met, the day you got out of prison, or what I heard about the attack the next day when I went back to your hotel. I made up a story about a car accident. For them, you’re pinned to a wheelchair somewhere in Florida. I had to put you farther away so they could imagine you somewhere else, harmless but still enjoying life, in a manner of speaking. If I told them the truth, Mom would’ve blamed herself. She would’ve thought you put yourself in this condition to save her. And she could never live happily knowing you were so close and in such bad shape.

  “I’m the one who got you placed here. I saw specialists. I did research to see if there’s ever been a case of amnesia like yours, but I never found one. The doctors didn’t give me much reason to hope you’d ever recover your true personality. But I didn’t give up on you.”

  Jeremy squeezed Simon’s hand. An unfit father, he was lucky to have such an exceptional son. A son who always kept hope alive that he’d find his father again, even paralyzed.

  “Oh, yeah,” Simon went on. “I forgot to tell you that both Thomas and I are married. And we both have kids. I have a son and a daughter. My son is twelve years old. His name is Martin…like your father. Julie is six. I have photos.”

  Simon got out his wallet and flipped it open. Jeremy saw two adorable children hugging each other on a beach.

  “They’re cute, aren’t they?” Simon continued. “Thomas, he has a five-year-old son, Sacha. He lives in Lyon. He’s the administrative director for the French branch of some important American company. Me, I’m just an artist. I paint. My canvases sell all right. Geez, what else to say? You know, it’s not easy to sum up so many years in just a few words.”

  The photos, Simon’s commentary, and the obvious joy he took in sharing with his father overwhelmed Jeremy. He had a family. Grandchildren even. By mastering his double, he’d helped to make the good things in their lives possible. “I’m happy for you. But tell me about your mother. It’s okay. I hope that she’s happy.”

  Simon mumbled, embarrassed, “She never remarried, but she’s lived with the same man for fifteen years. His name’s Jacques. He’s a lawyer. She doesn’t work anymore. She’d rather take care of the grandkids. She’s a wonderful grandmother.”

  Jeremy looked away. Victoria didn’t belong to him anymore. He’d only lived a few hours, a few days with her.

  “I’m tired. Walk with me to my room, please?”

  Simon seemed saddened by his father’s sudden fatigue. Simon pushed the wheelchair to Jeremy’s bed. There, he took off his father’s robe, picked him up, and laid him on the bed. Outside, the nurse aides were starting to serve dinner.

  Simon tucked his father in. His hand moved hesitantly, stroking his forehead. “I’ll come back and see you…often. And I’ll be here, every year, on your birthday.”

  Jeremy closed his hand and held out his fist. Simon stared at it a moment and then knocked his fist tenderly against his father’s.

  “I remember that day so clearly. On that day, I was the one in a hospital bed, and you were standing next to me. I’ve needed you a lot over the years. I would’ve liked to have you as a father and see you happy with my mother. To have a real family, you know.” He held back the tears that threatened to strangle his voice, leaned over, and kissed his father.

  “Please, don’t take too long to come back,” Simon whispered.

  Then he went out, leaving Jeremy to drop into the sleep that waited for him.

  NINE

  May 8, 2055—Paris, France

  It was his last day. He knew that as soon as he woke up.

  Jeremy recognized the hospital. He had the same room. Or if it was a different one, it was identical.

  He was old, and his body had stopped fighting. He couldn’t dispel the thick vapors weaving through his brain, asphyxiating his thoughts, interrupting his vision, and drowning out sounds. He wasn’t the motionless body washed by unknown hands. He was the mind that entered and left, searching for direction, doubting his own awareness.

  The nurses wished him a happy birthday, like a child. One of them gave him the information he was expecting: “In one year, Mr. Delègue, you’ll celebrate eighty years on earth.”

  Between two absences, Jeremy made some calculations and situated each of his actions in the short flashes of his life. A life of nine days. So much had happened. Few moments had been happy, but those that were still possessed the breath of passion for Jeremy.

  Nine days. And so much sacrificed hope.

  The nurses dressed him in a charcoal suit, white shirt, and a burgundy tie. They brushed his hair and sprayed him with cologne. He thought they were preparing him for a birthday party. He dreaded the moment they’d hand him a mirror so he could admire himself, but none of them thought of it. He didn’t want to see what he’d become. He tried to move his right hand, but it had become stiff like the rest of his body. A body that closed like a tomb over a mind only twenty years and nine days old.

  He was a body without a life. He was an old man whose only hope was to see his son. He wanted to give meaning to his last hours, to say good-bye to life, not to slide stupidly into the a
byss, not to leave without one last look at a loved one, the caress of a loving hand.

  Jeremy laughed inside at the idea that his son would still be interested in this wreck of flesh and bedsores. Did he never get tired of hope?

  Though the window, the springtime sun caressed his skin. For a moment, he let his mind wander, imagining that the rays penetrated each of his pores and re-lit his cells, reaching as high as the vital functions and recharging the energy they no longer contained. Just a few more minutes and he’d be able to lift himself up, to walk, to speak and laugh.

  A cloud veiled the sun, and Jeremy grumbled. He opened his eyes to size up the intruder. And there was Simon. Jeremy felt warmth invade him. A different source of energy. Simon met Jeremy’s gaze, and Jeremy knew what he was looking for. He let out a few mournful sounds, and Simon drew closer. Jeremy stared intensely at Simon, squinting and frowning. He had to make him understand that he was there.

  Simon held his hand out to place it on the old man’s. With this contact, Jeremy felt his own move. He concentrated all his will in this part of his body, and his fingers wiggled. He concentrated harder, fearing that the thick mists of age would come to ravage the fruits of his effort. Simon understood and placed his eyes on the hand that struggled to move.

  Then all his love, all his will, and all the energy of the sun and of his happiness to see his son again allowed him to fold his fingers and lift his fist a few inches off the bed.

  Simon smiled, moved. He placed his fist on his father’s and gave him a triumphant look. “So you finally came back?” he whispered. “I’m so happy. It’s like a sign from heaven. I’d hoped for it so much. My son’s getting married today. I wanted you to be there.”

  He sat down, took his father’s hand, and rubbed it.

  “I know you understand everything I’m saying. I know you must have a lot of questions. I’m going to try and give you some answers. First of all, I came to see you often. Not only on your birthdays. I was really moved by our encounter nine years ago. Of course, every time I came I could see you weren’t there. But spending time with you, knowing that somewhere inside this immobile body there was the soul of my father…that was enough.

  “And when we picked a date for Martin’s wedding, I prayed you’d be there. I want you to meet my family so badly.

  “I told everyone about you yesterday. We were all at home together. I told my kids that they had a grandfather and that they’d meet you today. They were emotional, as you can imagine. They even got mad at me for hiding the truth. And I asked myself if it was right to keep this secret to myself. Too late, I said. Everything came too late. And life went by.

  “I also told Mom and Thomas about you. They were shocked. Thomas even seemed a little angry, without really knowing why. Mom was almost relieved. I admit she was daunted by the idea of seeing you today. In fact, she didn’t know what to think. She believes you went crazy, and that probably helps her accept the idea of seeing you again.

  “And there you go. I don’t know if that answers all your questions. I don’t know if you want to come with me, but there are moments in life when a son has to make decisions for his father.”

  Jeremy wiggled his hand to reassure his son. The idea of appearing so diminished in the eyes of Victoria scared him at first. Then, thinking of the death that would come for him shortly, Jeremy felt the need to see her one last time.

  “You make a handsome grandfather,” Simon said. “The beard suits you. The nurses are going to gather your things. I’ll come back to get you in a few minutes.”

  Simon got up and went out. Jeremy felt a great weariness invade him. The encounter had taken too much energy, stirred up too many feelings.

  He let his body doze off.

  They were in front of the synagogue.

  Simon had picked him up out of the car and placed him delicately in his wheelchair. He pushed Jeremy through the guests who greeted him on the sidewalk. Jeremy felt their eyes on him. He heard the murmur of questions and commentary as he passed.

  Then a young girl walked up to him, and for a moment, Jeremy thought he was dreaming. She looked so much like the Victoria he’d left on his twentieth birthday.

  “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Julie. Your granddaughter,” Simon said, letting his eyes go from one to the other.

  After the surprise wore off, Jeremy looked at her tenderly. Though she had the allure and smile of her grandmother, her face was more delicate than Victoria’s. Her crystal blue eyes contained a sweetness that wanted nothing more than to connect with other people and things and to gently caress them. Her little nose, with its perfectly straight bridge, was the pinnacle of harmony and balance.

  She leaned down to kiss him. “Hello, Grandfather. It’s good to meet you.”

  The stiffness of Jeremy’s body and his lack of response, except the vague smile at the corner of his mouth, surprised her. She lifted her eyes toward her father, who answered her question with a sad smile.

  “I leave you with Julie. She’ll take care of you during the ceremony. I have to go escort my son’s mother-in-law down the aisle. Obligations!” he said cheerfully, disappearing among the guests.

  Julie turned her soft eyes to her grandfather. “I’m really happy to meet you, you know. I don’t know a lot about you…but I’m really happy.”

  Jeremy was fascinated by this face that reminded him so much of his lost love. Then he realized Victoria must be as old as he was. He felt stupid for not thinking of it before. Since his arrival, he’d tried to find her in the crowd of guests. Would she appear as decrepit as he did? He shivered. Wouldn’t he rather preserve the image of the beauty who haunted him?

  “Come on, let’s keep going. There are seats reserved for family.” The statement surprised Jeremy. He had a family.

  Julie rolled the wheelchair to the end of a row on the right side of the chuppah that would cover the young couple. She sat down beside Jeremy.

  Soon other people came to greet him, saying some nice words and kissing his cheek. Julie tried to make introductions, but Jeremy could barely keep up. He met cousins and second cousins, uncles, aunts. From time to time, Jeremy thought he recognized a name, but then another face solicited his attention. It was impossible to try and understand the lines of parentage that united him with the men and women circling around him. All the same, Jeremy was happy to be at the center of activity, caught in the effervescence of life, hearing words of loving kindness.

  “Okay, here we go,” Julie whispered into his ear.

  The sound of violins signaled the beginning of the ceremony.

  Jeremy couldn’t see the two people who entered. They were too far away, and at best he could distinguish the blurry forms of two bodies walking together in rhythm. According to custom, it must be the groom and his mother. They took their place under the chuppah, and then the bride entered on her father’s arm. Simon followed, beaming with pride, offering his arm to the bride’s mother. Reaching his father, Simon smiled at him and winked at his daughter.

  Then the grandparents made their entrance. When the two shadows approached the chuppah, Jeremy immediately recognized the allure, the walk, and the posture of Victoria. Blood rushed to his brain, and the scene wavered, almost capsizing in the purple and gold of the synagogue. The emotion was too strong, and he was afraid he might lose consciousness. But the vertigo was followed by a feeling of comfort. He heard the beating of his heart, and a gentle heat infused his body, which finally felt alive. Only Victoria could still have that effect.

  When she was no more than nine feet from him, he could see her face clearly, and his eyes met hers. She studied him long enough for Jeremy to observe every detail of her face, understanding every word she silently uttered. There was tenderness in her eyes but also confusion and maybe a little fear. She was still very beautiful. Age had only softened her features and etched a few wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Jeremy realized that he wasn’t the only one privy to this silent conversation. Julie lowered her head shyly, try
ing not to disturb the wordless exchange.

  So there you are. Victoria’s eyes said this and more.

  Here we are, reunited after so many years. Attending a ceremony to consecrate love, the happy consequence of our own. I remember our love, Jeremy. It could have been a thing of incredible beauty if everything hadn’t gone wrong. If you hadn’t tried to kill yourself. If you’d understood earlier that you were the man for me. If you could’ve healed yourself. If…simply put, if you’d remained the man who, on his twentieth birthday, with only a few words, made me understand I couldn’t exist anymore except by your side. We could’ve gone far, somewhere at least. Arrived here together. Sat side by side to admire our work and be proud of this new flame born out of the desire to surpass our own. But look at us, Jeremy. You in a wheelchair. Your face frozen. And me, a grandmother trying so hard to look young. And in your eyes, the only part of you that seems alive, I read the same regrets of the life we lost.

  And Jeremy answered: Yes, this is our reunion. An incredible and useless reunion. Our lives are connected. And today, right before I die, destiny lets me glimpse my failure and hear the echo of the long cry of my loss.

  I came to say good-bye, Victoria. To pay final homage to the luck that somehow escaped me, like water held in the palm of my withered hand, draining away without satisfying my thirst, just enough to wet my lips and leave me with the faintest impression.

  How can I tell you how much I’ve suffered over the harm I did to you? How can I tell you how deeply I regret the life we could’ve had together? How can I tell you that I would’ve been happy to sit by your side today, proudly watching the fruit of our love write itself into the story we started?

  Why tell you all that? To suffer even more before I go and leave you with my regrets, the last trace of my passage on earth?

  I leave nothing, Victoria. My life is a void. A black hole that absorbs all light. A black hole, Victoria. A long tunnel where the ends are too far from one another, letting me glimpse the light of the sun and feel the sweetness of the wind before sending me once again down a lifeless path without you, without me, until the next opening.