by Len du Randt
Rebecca stroked the back of his head. ‘Sometimes we have to go through bad ordeals to prepare us for what lies ahead; to make us stronger.’
‘Or to make us consider suicide,’ he said and looked away.
‘Don’t say that, Jared,’ she chided him. ‘Don’t ever say that!’
‘You’re not in my shoes. I’ll say what I want to.’
She bit her lip and rubbed her burning eyes. ‘I had a dream last night,’ she said, then decided against saying more.
For a moment he didn’t say anything. After he regained control of his emotions he looked up. ‘What did you dream?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What did you dream?’
‘It’s...silly, really.’
‘What did you dream, mother?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I...I can’t,’ she said and took a step back. She jerked slightly as the tears flowed. She didn’t want Jared to hear that she was crying. ‘I thought I could do it, but I can’t.’
‘Do what?’ Jared insisted. ‘What are you talking about?’
Rebecca swallowed hard and rubbed her face. Just do it! She forced herself to action and from her purse produced a cloth and a small vial that contained olive oil. She then unscrewed the top and pressed the cloth to the opening of the bottle.
‘Mom? What’s going on?’
She dipped the bottle, soaking some of the cloth with the oil. After placing the bottle to one side, she carefully walked over to his bed and hunched down next to him. She removed the bandages to expose his eyes. ‘Lay still and don’t open your eyes,’ she said. Rebecca then took the cloth and rubbed the oil over his eye lids.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Lord Jesus,’ she prayed. ‘I’m not sure if this will work or not. I’m not even sure if I’m doing or saying the right thing. But I believe that You can heal Jared and I’m taking a step of faith and trust in You, Please acknowledge Your humble servant.’
‘Mom?’
She ignored him. ‘Please,’ she begged. She inhaled deeply before issuing the command. ‘In the name of Jesus Christ, see!’
For a moment Jared didn’t do or say anything. Rebecca took a step back and held her hand to her mouth. It was too late to undo what she did. Would he be able to see? Would her own lack of faith hinder God from healing her son? She could only wonder as Jared turned his head from side to side and fluttered his eyes open before closing them again.
‘I’m sorry, baby,’ she said. ‘I thought...’
Jared opened his eyes again. ‘So much light,’ he said. ‘So much brightness.’
Rebecca gasped.
His eyes moved around until they locked onto hers. ‘Mom,’ he said.
He can see, she thought as tears of joy flowed freely down her cheeks. Thank you, Lord for being faithful despite my doubt.
Using his elbow, Jared pushed himself up. He blinked a few more times and moved his eyes around until they rested some place next to Rebecca. Jared closed his eyes slowly, and when he opened them again, continued looking at the same spot next to Rebecca.
‘Is everything…are you okay?’ Rebecca asked.
Jared looked at her and then back at the spot. He closed his eyes and rubbed them hard. When he opened them again he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Rebecca looked next to her but didn’t see anything. Finally, the words escaped from Jared’s parched throat. ‘That man...’
Rebecca looked around the room. She didn’t see anyone. ‘What are you talking about, dear?’ she asked.
‘The man standing next to you,’ Jared said and pointed weakly to where he had been staring. ‘Can’t you see him?’
She shook her head.
‘I saw him somewhere, but the memory is vague.’ He reached his hand out to the place he was looking at and waved it slowly through the air. ‘So much light,’ he said. ‘Yet, I can clearly see his face.’
‘Don’t strain yourself too hard,’ She said as she walked to the bed and embraced her son. ‘I’m going to call the doctor and he will check you out.’
Jared looked up at his mother. Her hair had more grey than when he last saw her; the texture more stringy. ‘Before you go,’ he said as he studied her frail figure. ‘I need to know something.’
‘Yes?’ Rebecca asked and took Jared’s hands in her own.
He looked at the spot where he was staring earlier and then back at her. ‘Who is he?’ Jared asked. ‘Who is Simon?’
Chapter 11
“What’s going on, John? Why are those guys trying to kill us?”
John looked sideways to make sure that they were alone. “They found out what I can do,” he said. His words came out barely above a whisper. “They know that I know the truth; that I saw the truth.”
“What truth?”
“I know things that they’d rather not have the masses know.”
“Like what, John? What could be so important that they want to kill us?”
John looked deeply into her silver eyes, searching them for anything that would betray her, that would indicate that she was in fact, working for the government. He only saw fear and confusion. Good enough. “I know who killed John F. Kennedy.”
“We all know who did it,” she said and raised her voice. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You think you know,” John said and he couldn’t prevent the smirk that followed. “But you don’t. There’s a lot of things you think you know, but don’t. I do, and you’re affiliated with me. And that, Nina, is why they want us both dead.”
Justin sunk back into his chair and sighed loudly. He rubbed his face and smiled broadly as he nodded to himself. This is going to be a good one, he thought as he stood up and walked over to the window where he stared at the lawn outside. Autumn had painted the leaves yellow with a splash of red to match the afternoon sunsets, and now they were ripped from the branches and strewn all over the lawn. A gentle breeze blew some of the leaves to and fro, making them dance to the song of nature.
‘Now for the mail,’ he mused out loud and saved his document before casually strolling to the kitchen where he poured himself the last of the orange juice in the container.
Have to get some more, Justin thought and frowned. He downed the orange juice and smacked his lips as he stepped out into the bright sunlight outside. He squinted at the sudden light of the clear skies, and then leisurely strolled to the mailbox at the end of the footpath next to the fence.
‘Bills,’ Justin said as his eyes studied the first envelope. He flipped it over and behind the stack of envelopes in his hand. As he walked down the path, flipping between phone bills, electricity bills, and teenage daughter bills, the last envelope in the stack made him stop dead in his tracks. He stared at the handwritten address made out to his name and a familiar sense of dread twisted his stomach into a knot. Justin became distinctly aware that his heart beat heavier and faster than normal.
Thump, thump, thump!
He looked around, thinking that it might be a prank and hoping to catch the prankster peeking at him from behind a tree. There was no one. This wasn’t a prank. Justin felt like ripping the envelope open then and there, but he decided it would be best to get inside first.
It’s another rejection, Justin Greene, his mind reasoned. We apologise, but you will just have to try again and again. He had submitted the manuscript to no fewer than fifty agents. Thirty by post and twenty through e-mail. The rejections arrived one after the other. Some were eloquent letters explaining that his book didn’t fit the list for this year. Others were less discreet like the curt, “Thanks, but no thanks” message that one agent sent via e-mail. The letter that he now held in his hand would be the fiftieth rejection. For some unexplainable reason, the walk felt longer than usual.
Thump, thump, thump!
Once inside the house, Justin stuffed the bills into the makeshift “bill-bin” for later. He thumbed the envelope and studied the handwriting as he absentmindedly strolled to his office. He pla
ced the envelope to one side and for a long moment stared blankly at the words he had typed only a few minutes earlier.
“But you don’t. There’s a lot of things you think you know, but don’t. I do, and you’re affiliated with me. And that, Nina, is why they want us both dead.”
Justin caught himself stealing a glimpse at the envelope. He picked it up and sighed as he rubbed his thumb over the handwriting. This is it, he thought and opened the top desk drawer from which he produced a letter opener that Jared had made for him in ninth grade woodshop class. His mind wandered as he looked at his distorted reflection in the blade. The copper that once gleamed was now faded. Images of his son reeled off in his mind like a movie and Justin could only smile as he sent up a prayer of thanks.
To second chances, Justin thought as he slipped the blade into the small opening on the side of the envelope and ripped it upward, neatly cleaving a slit into the top. With shaking hands he pulled the neatly folded paper inside the envelope out and placed both the letter opener and the empty envelope on the desk before gently unfolding the letter.
It was a printed letter and Justin took time to examine the agent’s logo first before allowing his eyes to scroll to the text.
Manuscript: The Reaper & Mr. Smith
Dear Mr. Greene,
Thank you for your query regarding the abovementioned manuscript. I have read the first three chapters that you have supplied and would like to see the rest.
Please send it at your earliest convenience and mark it for my personal attention.
Regards,
Dorothy Stevens
Justin exhaled slowly and then re-read the letter twice more, tracing his eyes slowly from side to side and breathing out each word as he read it. An agent was interested in seeing the whole manuscript! He could only shake his head and smile as he walked to the telephone on what felt like rubber legs. The reality still didn’t sink in. He picked up the receiver and dialled Rebecca’s number as he re-read the words once again.
‘Becky, you’re not going to believe this,’ Justin said when his wife answered.
‘What’s wrong?’ Rebecca asked. ‘Is everything all right?’
Justin merely laughed. ‘Nothing’s wrong, Becky. It’s quite the opposite, in fact.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I received mail from an agent today.’
‘Yes...?’
‘She wants to see the rest of the manuscript.’
‘Oh Justin, that’s wonderful news,’ Rebecca said with a slight shriek of delight in her voice. ‘I knew you could do it.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Oh wow, baby. I’m so happy for you.’
Justin smiled. ‘So how’s Jared?’
‘I’ve been meaning to call you all morning,’ she said. ‘But I had to wait for the doctor’s report to be absolutely sure.’
‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘It’s quite the opposite,’ Rebecca punned on Justin’s words. ‘It’s Jared. He can see.’
‘He can see?’
Rebecca laughed out loud. ‘Jared can see!’
Justin could feel the corners of his eyes starting to sting as he eyed the letter from the agent. The paper appeared faded now, almost as if the magical golden glow had disappeared. Its message paled in comparison to what Rebecca just told him. He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. ‘What...how did this happen?’
‘It’s a long story,’ she said. ‘But I’ll tell you all about it when we come home.’
‘Home?’ He choked out the word. ‘When...?’
‘Two weeks, I think. Jared has some intensive therapy ahead of him. They just need to get him started with the foundation therapy and if they’re happy with his progress, will allow him to continue the course at a clinic near us.’
Justin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. ‘I miss you, you know?’
‘I miss you too,’ she said. ‘Mostest most.’
After they finished their discussion and hung up, Justin walked aimlessly around the house for a few minutes. He practically had an agent. His son was out of the coma and could see again. Justin slumped down into his chair and sighed out loudly as he rubbed his hands over his face. He then saved and closed the document that he was working on and opened his draft of The Reaper & Mr. Smith. Five years of writing and now someone other than Rebecca and Monique was going to read the entire manuscript. He checked the paper in the printer tray and after scrolling through the document to make sure that everything was in order, clicked on print.
* - - - *
Movement was painful and slow. What would take an able person two minutes to accomplish cost Jared ten agonizing minutes of frustration. He moved two slow steps, rested, two more, rested, and then two more. He found using a walking cane reduced the strain on his lower back, but at the cost of his dignity.
‘Do you need some assistance?’ a nurse offered as she passed him in the hallway.
‘No,’ Jared said and held his palm out toward her to strengthen his resolve. ‘I have to do this by myself.’
Despite his answer, she nonetheless reached her hand out to help him, but he jerked his arm away. She looked at him for a moment and then asked softly, ‘Are you sure?’
Jared nodded.
‘All right. But please don’t hesitate to call on us if you need anything, Mister Greene.’ She shot him a smile before leaving him to his self-inflicted agony.
Step by step he made his way down the hallway. He set goals for himself. The door. When he got there the goal became the fire extinguisher. With each target reached, the space to the next one increased. Jared tried to quicken his pace with each milestone he achieved. He looked at the refreshment cart at the end of the hallway. Just this one, he thought, and then I can make myself some coffee while I’m there. He took a deep breath and began the next stretch of his arduous journey down the cold, ominous hospital corridor.
It took Jared longer than expected to finally reach the cart. He couldn’t control the slight quiver in his hand as he poured coffee from a pot into a Styrofoam cup. He sipped at it gently as he contemplated the route he would take back to his room.
Jared.
Jared looked behind him. For as far as the corridor went, there was no one there. ‘Hello?’ he asked. ‘Is anyone there?’
Jared.
He spun around and cried out in reflex at the tall person standing right in front of him. The man was dressed totally in black, but it wasn’t until Jared saw his charred face that he recoiled. Jared flung the cup from his hand in reflex and the warm liquid sprayed against the wall. In the process of trying to get away from the charred thing, he bumped into the cart, sending crockery and cutlery clattering to the floor. Pain stabbed at his back as he scrambled for the wall.
Jared.
‘Leave me alone!’ Jared demanded and waved his cane through the air. ‘What the hell are you?’
‘Mister Greene?’ a nurse asked as she ran toward him. ‘Are you all right?’
The burnt man in the black robes in front of Jared raised a bony finger at him.
‘Him,’ Jared said and stabbed his cane in the direction of the man. ‘Who is he, and what does he want from me?’
The nurse hunched down next to Jared and looked at where he was pointing. ‘Who are you talking about, Mister Greene?’
‘The man right in front of you nurse. Are you blind or stupid?’
The nurse frowned. ‘There’s no one there.’
‘He’s right there! Can’t you see?’
She shook her head.
Jared closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, the man was gone.
* - - - *
‘What’s wrong?’ Rebecca asked as she entered Jared’s room. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Ghost, Jared thought. I don’t know what I saw, but that was no ghost. ‘I...I’m fine,’ he said. He considered telling his mother about the creatures he saw, but suppressed the thought instead. He stared out the window in silence for a long time as she took a seat next
to the bed and buried her purse underneath the chair.
‘You don’t look fine,’ she said and placed her hand on his forehead. ‘In fact, you look pale and you’re burning up.’
Jared pulled his head to the side and she took away her hand. ‘I’m fine,’ he insisted and decided to shift the focus away from himself. ‘How’s dad?’
‘He’s good,’ she said. ‘He finally managed to get an agent interested in his book.’
Jared forced a smile. ‘Poor agent.’
Rebecca merely laughed. ‘He’s so happy when he writes,’ she said and took Jared’s hand. ‘It’s like he’s on another planet; out there with all his characters and their adventures and not a single care in the world.’
‘Sometimes I think he spends more time with his silly characters than his own family,’ Jared said.
Rebecca turned away from Jared and for a moment just stared through the window at the scenery outside without saying anything. ‘He just loves writing,’ she finally said. ‘That’s all.’
Jared didn’t respond. He knew that he had overstepped the boundary. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘It came out wrong.’
She didn’t answer. Finally she rubbed at her face and pointed at the window. ‘Look at the beautiful day outside.’
Jared’s eyes softened. He would humour her attempt at misdirection. ‘It’s nice,’ he said. ‘Wish I could be there.’
‘Soon,’ she said and turned to face him again. ‘As soon as you’re ready, I’m taking you home.’
Jared nodded. ‘I’d like that.’
For a moment there was a comfortable silence between mother and son. Both probed their memories for light-hearted family topics of the past, but neither of them spoke of those times.
