You know that weird thing called love, part 1 |
The dirty white walls of the room, where thousands of thousands people had been waiting to see their beloved criminal or the other way around, screamed at me. They screamed that my dad was a shame for the country, a hideous liar and murderer, and that I was a fool for loving him. Not only the walls told me, far from. Every person in the country, every person I met, looked at me with either disgust, anger or sympathy. Everyone blamed me for what my father had done - even dogs seemed to. But I didn’t - I knew I wasn’t the same man as my father, thank god for that.
The door opened with a loud moaning and out came a woman with long, blonde hair. You could see she was thin and curvy through the orange prison-costume, and her eyes, seeking through the room – calculating and valuing everything - told me she was incredibly smart and dangerous. Her gaze was angry and I moved instinctly a few inches away. But she only walked through the room and chose an empty table to put her food on. I looked at her, no, I stared at her. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t stop looking at her – like if there was an attractive force pulling me against her. She met my gaze and pouted with her lips. I blushed and when I looked down to the floor, hiding my tomato-red face, the door opened again. Out came my dad, in his prison-costume, wearing it as if it was newest fashion. He gave the guard which was leading him into the room an furious eye and then turned to me with his eyes glowing of love.
I raised and he gave me a big hug. I hugged him back, and we just stood there. We didn’t talk, it wasn’t needed.
I could feel the anger and remorse he felt and I know he felt my anger and my sadness too. But the most important was that I could feel that he loved me, that he was proud of what I had become.
I caught a glimpse of the woman, she stared at us with envy in her eyes. I felt sorry for her. Everyone, no matter what they’d done, deserved to be loved by someone.
I knew there was many different opinions about that point – I’d heard a lot of scattering comments after me the last two years, but my opinion hadn’t changed at all. I believed humans were good, not always – far from – but I thought every man had something good inside.
My dad took a firmer grip around my body and I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
“Please dad. I would like to live a few more years.”
“Oh. Sorry” He said quietly and shrugged.
“It’s cool dad, how’s your week been? “ I said calmly.
“Lonely”
“Sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”
“No it’s okay, you’ve got your own life now to struggle with. I can’t expect you coming everyday to se your dad.”He hesitated for a second. “The murderer”
“Don’t say so dad…” I protested.
“You have to see the truth, my boy.”
“I’m not going to be here if all we’re going to talk about is that you’re a murderer!” I said angrily.
“Okay okay” He said, trying to calm med down. “No more talking about my crime”
“Promise”
“You know my word isn’t much worth? Ha?”
“I said NO MORE TALKING ABOUT WHAT YOU DID!”
“Calm down, you stress people” And I did, everyone in the room stared at us with curiosity in their eyes.
“Don’t you people have your own life?” I yelled at them. My sentence echoed in the white room. Everyone turned their heads away, but you could feel in the air everyone was still listening. I had this conversation with dad every week – but it still seemed to be as interesting as it used to be in the beginning.
“Listen here, dad. I love you, I always will. I’m never going to forget what you did - I’m never going to forgive you. But let’s just not talk about that – time passes, we have to get over it – Right? I know you’re never going to do something like that again, you wouldn’t do that to me.“
“You’re right.” He said and looked down. It was quiet for a minute before he raised his head. His eyes were wet. Everyone had stopped talking and waited for the punch line. The same as always.
“I Love you, you know?” He asked with broken voice.
“Yeah. I know dad. I love you too.” He gave me a big hug.
“I brought you some sandwiches” I said.
“Oh, thanks, I love your sandwiches.”
“I’m not sure they’re good anymore – the guard had to examine every piece of it. Of course he couldn’t find anything.” I paused. “ I think he was a bit irritated ‘cause of that. Like he wanted me to be a criminal or something” I said with humor in my tone.
“Yeah, as if you could be a criminal…”
“Dad. I have a confession to make. “
“Oh no. Do not even think about taking it with me! We actually have a priest around – I think it’s the one with long hair – you see him?” He said and pointed at a man with long, blonde hair a few tables away. He looked at us.
“I must make this confession to you, I’m afraid.” I said with a serious voice, trying to swallow my laughter.
“Please, man. “
“I’m a criminal. Dad. I’ve stolen, murdered and I’ve lied. “
“Oh, that doesn’t sound great. What did you do, son?” He said, playing his role.
“I stole a thumbtack of my colleague, I murdered an ant – I tried to save it though, but I’m not a doctor and he died. And I lied to mum yesterday – I couldn’t cope hearing all the stuff about you being so hideous – so I said I was running out of time and clicked her…In fact I had all day long...” I sighed. “How many years do you think I get?” I said anxious.
“Hm… Maybe… About twenty years? Don’t you think that would be fair?”
“Yeah, the rest of your punishment?” I guessed.
“Lucky guess. I’ve got 23 years, two months and three days left to suffer”
“Oh… you still count days?”
“What else can I do?”
“Many things, write letters for example”
“To?”
“Mum. Grandma and grandpa. Your brother would probably appreciate one too…”
“Okay, first of all – your mum hates me.”
“… Second?”
“Second of all, grandma and grandpa hates me. “
“That’s not true”
“They are very disappointed in me”
I couldn’t deny that one “…Third?”
“Third thing is that I don’t know my brothers address – they changed last month”
“I can bring it to you”
“I know, but I don’t want you to. He hates me too”
“Then you have his address next time you see me.”
“Time’s out guys.” Another voice told us before dad could protest.
“Bye dad. Love you!” I said quickly.
“Love you too” he said before the guard brought him away.
I was just about going to walk away and eat lunch when I saw the woman I had seen before walking against me. I stopped and waited for her.
“Hi” She said.
“Hello?” I answered.
“I was just wondering… That man is your dad, isn’t he?
“Yeah, why?”
“Shouldn’t you hate him?” she said with curiosity in her tone.
“Why? Why Should I?”
“Ehm… He’s in prison, right?”
“You too”
“Yeah, but we’re talking about your dad. All sons hate relatives in prison.”
“Except me.” I said tired.
“I hated my dad so much I killed him when he was released.”
“I didn’t ask”
“Aren’t you chocked? I killed my dad!”
“Yeah, so?”
“You’re sick” She hesitated. ”And very tempting”
“So I’m told. But huh?! Wait a minute” I shook my head. “Tempting?”
“Yeah, I want to know you.”
“Great.” I said ironic.
“I was serious man – I want to get to know you. Come tomorrow and talk with me at my visiting hour, 3 o clock.”
“You want Me to visit you? ”
“Come on.”
“Why would I?”
“I’m so lonely, no one wants to visit me.” She said with a sweet voice.
I thought about that and took a decision.
“Okay, I guess I can.” I said.
“Great!” She said happily.
“Well, goodbye”
“See ya tomorrow!” She said and smiled a gorgeous smile.
I turned my back at her and walked through the door. Then I talked with the receptionist if it was possible to meet her. At first she looked at me with disbelief in her eyes but told me it was okay.
I drove home the empty, dusty road with my head filled up with questions, not taking any notice to anything else than these. When I locked up the door to my apartment I wondered how I came home – I didn’t even remember.
Hej!
Detta är första delen av en berättelse jag skrev i skolan. Jag ska genast lägga ut nästa - men ville dela upp den nu så att det inte blir för mycket i taget.
Tänk på att detta bara är andra gången jag skriver noveller på engelska, när ni kommenterar.
Puss på alla!
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