Authors: Massimo Russo
“I’d tell it to go screw itself!”
“That’s not a good way to begin a conversation with whoever only presents you with choices.”
“Give it a rest! You’re talking about things you know nothing about. I wasn’t the one who told my mother to take her life to save mine!”
“That’s true. But she was facing two choices as well. She could have let you die, but she didn’t. She preferred to hold on to the hope that someone was trying to take away from her.”
“Right! It’s never anything to do with fate in these cases! And who’s to blame for a son with a heart disease?”
“The nature of human beings is full of challenges. What kind of challenge would it be if it was won to start with? You need to fight for a purpose, savoring the difficulties along the way.”
“So what choice did my mother have?”
“I’ve already told you. She could have turned her back and lived a normal life. She would have had to cope with remorse though. What would you do in a situation like that?”
“I’m already in a situation like that. And I have a goal. There’s always the chance of being able to change things.”
“It’s your right to do what you think is right. Human beings possess the greatest power of all and it allows them to be truly free. But every action has a consequence that can lead to the light or the blackest darkness. If you kill O’Neal now, you might regret it for the rest of your life.”
“Oh shut up! Your mind-reading makes you jump to the wrong conclusions.”
“It’s not mind-reading. But I can see the anger that’s destroying your heart.”
“My heart is already dead! If I’m here, it’s because I have the chance to make up for my mistake.”
“How on earth can you think your mother’s death was a mistake you made?”
“Well, who made it then? Time? Nature? That God I’ve never seen or heard from? Anyway, whoever made it has me to reckon with now. I’m tired of living with remorse.”
“You can’t get rid of one remorse by creating another. You’ll give a life by taking one that doesn’t belong to you. That’s an insult and a slight to the woman who gave birth to you!”
“What I have in this briefcase will erase all the remorse that haunts me.”
“Don’t try to convince yourself. You’re above the sort of thing that money can buy.”
“Oh sure. You’re talking about love, aren’t you? That absurd emotion that clouds the mind so much that a woman gives up her life to save her son’s. It’s not an emotion worth saving! All situations can be saved simply by using logic.”
“And what is your logic telling you? To kill one person to save another and let money burn away the memories that will torment you for the rest of your life? There are things you don’t know. They’re so dreadful that the human mind wouldn’t be able to bear them and it would self-destruct.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“That’s not true. Your eyes give you away, because inside, you’re fighting a battle between good and evil. And even if you won’t admit it, what your heart is capable of doing goes beyond the understanding of human beings. You’re not like the others.”
“You’re right. The others have chosen to live without ever looking back. But I do it every day, trying to find words to whisper to a mother who’s not there anymore to make her see that I’m not a better person than she was.”
“So why do you want to change now?”
“Because there’s a child who needs me.”
“You can’t create something special through destruction. Don’t you think that in a few years the child you’re trying to save will desperately look for answers?”
“In that case, he’ll be in the same boat I’m in now.”
“That’s not true, because you know perfectly well that the situation isn’t the same. Your life was gifted to you, not stolen from someone.”
“Suicide is allowed then?”
“You only have one life. People are free to do with it what they will. Giving it to others is the most divine gesture of all.”
“That’s the biggest load of BS I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re probably right. But before you do anything, stop for a minute and ask yourself whether your logic wants the same thing as your heart. Other men before you have done it, and martyred themselves for the good of humanity.”
“Right. But I’m not like them!”
“Of course you’re not. Sometimes though, you have to take into consideration the fact of being better. Maybe if you look in the mirror, you’ll find the solution your soul is so desperately looking for.”
Norman felt a shiver run through his mind, and his heart began to keen from the hurt those words brought. The man before him said no more, but turned and retraced his steps along the corridor.
Norman’s thoughts were caught in a whirlwind of images as they searched for enough light to separate the bad ones from the good. For a moment, he was tempted to run away again. But, like a warrior who knows he is trapped, he wriggled out of the clutches of doubt to face his fears once and for all. He turned and saw the bathroom door was open. The mirror hanging on the wall reflected an image he hardly recognized. Curiosity drew him closer. He tried to understand the meaning of what his eyes were trying to make him see, but truth is not so polite as to announce its presence; at a certain point, it just arrives, without considering the best way to do it, and without bothering with the apologies a surprise guest should make for not having knocked.
Chapter 31
They left the supermarket. The cold they had left outside was waiting for them, oblivious of the discomfort it brought with it. Jonathan held his grandson’s hand and promised that when they arrived home, he could watch his favorite television programs and feast on the bilberry juice and cookies they had just bought.
“Grandpa, when can I see Dad again?”
“Do you like your Dad?”
“Yes! He’s nice. I’d like to read him the other poems I’ve written. Can we invite him to drink juice sometime?”
“Of course, little man. We’ve got to go home now though. You need to rest.”
“But I don’t want to go home.”
“Don’t be naughty. You’ve got to take your medicine in a little while.”
“How long have I got to take it for? I don’t like medicine. It tastes bitter. Yuk!”
“That’s why we’ve bought your favorite juice and biscuits.”
“Oh blow!”
Will’s protests reminded him vividly of Norman and the comments he had made at the same age, although it took watching a football match and munching on potato chips to keep him happy. They walked past a bar.
“Hey, young man! What do you say to having ourselves a cup of hot chocolate to warm our bones before we go home?”
“Yeah! Cool! Hooray for chocolate!”
Jonathan loved seeing his grandson’s eyes shining with a little happiness. He didn’t deserve all the ordeals he had to bear. The child was full of hope and joie de vivre. He would do anything to help him, but miracles, he thought, didn’t happen twice in the same way. Julia didn’t have the same heart and the same chance of success as his wife had had where Norman was concerned. The only person who could help was Norman himself, but he would never ask a thing like that of him, just as he hadn’t asked Claudia, despite them both knowing that the only way to save their beloved son was for her to donate her heart voluntarily.
He had wanted Norman to meet his son purely and simply because the doctors had given Will only a few months before his little heart gave out and it didn’t seem right that a father found out about his son’s death without ever having met him. He had, however, omitted to tell him about the illness. Norman’s spirit was too fragile to cope with such a great inner struggle. He knew only too well that since his mother’s death, not a day had passed without Norman thinking it was all his fault – him and his ailing heart that fate had bequeathed with no possible recourse. He also knew that the lovely poems Norman wrote were desperate attempts to talk to his mother, in the hope of somehow describing the gesture she had made. He knew that Norman was devoted to Claudia and thought of her as an angel. But, like all men, Norman had also experienced the dark side of life and lost himself there, chasing dreams that didn’t belong to him in order to try and forget the weight pressing on his heart, to escape the guilt that each day handed him a bill that was too steep to pay. That was what had set him adrift and made him forget he had a companion he loved and who loved him. It was paradoxical that that same deep love was what had distanced him and made him repudiate all the words of love he had strung together like a divine song. Jonathan had tried to help him, but pride is sometimes too mighty a barrier to overcome.
They stepped inside the bar. The room was crowded with people.
“Grandpa, Grandpa. Let’s sit here.”
“OK, Will.”
No one listened to the child’s voice except a man who had just understood where his fate lay.
Chapter 32
“How’s that possible? What do you mean? It can’t be true!”
“When God’s involved, anything is possible, my dear Tommy!”
“O’Neal’s been trying for ever to whittle out the secret of immortality and now the only person in the world capable of finding the perfect equation is saying that we have to talk to O’Neal? It’s just plain stupid!”
“It would be stupid to ignore what my son wrote.”
“Celine, you said Will had written the formula before. Did you see his notes?”
“I’ve already told you my husband threw them away as soon as he got hold of the sheet of paper!”
“Right, the only thing to do is speak to him. He won’t have lost his memory, surely.”
“And what help would that be to you? It would only confirm the fact that you have to look for someone else for your plan to succeed.”
“Maybe. But Paul’s had enough time to think about this name and he’ll doubtless have come up with another clue to help us.”
Tommy rushed out of the room like a man who won’t be deterred or satisfied with a mere suggestion. He crossed the corridor and entered the room where they had left Paul. Celine and the white-coated woman followed him. The man they had drugged was still slumped in the same place.
“We’ve got to wake him up!”
“Sir, the effects of the injection won’t fade for another couple of hours. I can’t do anything to bring him round.”
“Then you’d better invent something, Doctor! I’ve no intention of wasting any more time.”
The woman walked out of the room in search of a brilliant idea that would counteract the effects of controlled sleep, leaving Celine and Tommy in an atmosphere of blind complicity that only made them feel uncomfortable.
“You won’t convince my husband to help you. There’s no way you can buy his honesty.”
“Perhaps I’ve just not found the right method yet. Anyway, you were like him too until I played the right card. Everyone has a weak spot. Yours was revenge against fate.”
“I’ll be damned for what I’ve done and so will you for what you made me do.”
“Fine. Now we’ve established that your curse will probably hex us for all eternity, help me to pick him up. Your freedom depends on what he says.”
The doctor strode back into the room, holding a syringe and a phial containing red liquid.
“This should wake him up pretty quickly. Hold him still. The side effects will make him very agitated and he’ll have uncontrollable tremors at first.”
She went to Paul’s side and injected the serum into his right arm. After a few seconds, his eyes flew open and his pain was obvious to those watching. The tremors came immediately afterwards. Paul screamed.
“Paul! Look at me, Paul!”
“Celine! What happened? Where’s Will? I can’t stop shaking. What have you done to me, you bastards?”
“The effect will only last for a few minutes – the doctor said so. Try to stay calm. Look at me, Paul.”
Tommy intervened, without showing the least sign of compassion for a man who was trying to hold his family together and be loyal to his conscience.
“Sorry, folks, but I haven’t got much time left. Listen, Paul. Your son wrote this a few minutes ago. You know what it means, don’t you?”
Paul tried to focus and stop his body from trembling. When he understood what was written, anger swamped his mind and put paid to any attempt to calm himself and become lucid.
“No! It’s impossible! You showed him those numbers, didn’t you? Damn you to hell! Will! Where’s my son? What have you done to his brain?”
“Your son is dead. Now try to concentrate on solving this problem.”
“Noooo! Celine! What have you done? How could you?”
“Calm down, Paul. I did it for us. And for him too. He needed to be freed from his illness; it was destroying him.”
He couldn’t breathe for desperation. He was going to collapse again. The emotion was too powerful for his heart to bear. Tommy turned to the doctor.
“Give him some more of that stuff. I can’t have him fainting again.”
“But sir. He could die!”
With Tommy’s hands squeezing her neck, it was obvious she couldn’t disobey his orders. Tommy slowly and deliberately repeated his words in her ear.
“Give him another injection right now!”
She got the message, picked up the syringe and drew more serum from the phial. Paul didn’t have the strength to resist and Celine was too scared and overwhelmed to help her husband. A few seconds later, the adrenalin took effect once more and Paul regained consciousness. Tommy stepped closer, his attitude one of menace towards the man who had no intention of cooperating.
“Right. Let’s start over. Your son wrote Ryan A. Mr. O’Neal’s name on this piece of paper not half an hour ago. You know who he is, don’t you? Tell me what else Will wrote when he woke from the coma the first time he saw this sequence of prime numbers.”
“You bastard! I won’t tell you anything! As soon as I can move, I’ll kill you with my bare hands! Let me see my son!”
“I don’t think it would be much comfort to you. He didn’t suffer, if that’s any consolation. Your wife was there watching over him. And make no mistake, your body is so full of dope, you won’t be able to move until tomorrow. We’ve got exceptionally refined drugs here.”
Paul turned his anguished gaze to his wife, but she didn’t have the courage to look him in the eye.