"Why am I thinking about him at a time like this?" Jeremy wondered.
His mind took him to the first moment he and his mother knew something wasn't right. His father had been sitting in the kitchen when Jeremy came downstairs for dinner. He had finished his homework and wanted to show his father what he had done before they ate. He stopped dead in his tracks at the doorway to the kitchen.
What made him stop was the scene in front of him.
Jeremy's mother was standing beside his father, panbin her hand, with a look of confusion and concern. She was looking at his father sitting at the table with his fork in his hand, but the curiousity was the fact that his hand was poised in the air as though he was going to eat and then stopped. In fact, his whole body was in the pose of someone getting ready to eat and then freezing.
"Mom?" Jeremy asked. "Mom, what's wrong with Pop?"
Jeremy's mother looked at him and said, "Honey, I don't know. I-I went to give him more pasta. He was telling me he wanted to get up early tomorrow...then he just stopped."
She backed away from his father and placed to pan back on the stove. She then rushed back over to him and began to shake his shoulder.
"Baby...Baby...What's wrong? Talk to me...!" Her voice had begun to raise in pitch and she began to shake him harder.
"...so I can make sure I have enough energy." said Jeremy's father. He looked up at Jeremy's mother and said, "Why in the world are you shaking me? Now my food is all over my lap instead of in my mouth where it should be."
That was the beginning of his father's decline. He had begun to get worse until one day after work, he briefly explained while packing that things had gotten better. That something at his job had caused him to get sick and he had found a way to get better, he needed to leave in order to accomplish this. Jeremy was 9 by then and thought his father would only be gone for a few weeks.
He never came back.
The only sign he ever had from his father that he may still be alive was a letter he received a few weeks before all this happened. It was a blank envelope with only "Jem" printed on the front. His father used to call him that during his better days.
Jeremy opened the letter and inside there was a note with word "Electroshock" at the top of the page. Under that there was a set of numbers that looked like some type of units of measurement. He did not find out until later that they were a measurement for electricity.
The rest of the letter read:
Son. After all these years I could not reach you. I could not contact you. I was in fear of what would become of you and your mother. I am only sorry I was not able to reach out to her before she passed away.I hope you are well and I am proud of you. I have been checking in on you occassionally to see how you are, and am pleased you have been doing so well for yourself. I thank your mother for all she has put into you dispite the odds.
I will now get to the matter at hand. I am better. I have found a way to reverse what was done to me. I never did tell you what my job was. You were so young, you wouldn't have understood. There were things I had to do that I doubt you would have looked at me the same way had I have told you.
Before I began to get sick, there were some descisions I made that did not please my superiors. I could not do what they asked me to this time. I could not see the reason. I could not see the benefit. She was only a little girl not much older than you were at the time.
As a result, I was made into whet you saw. I never remembered the blackouts. I only remember the expressions on people's faces as it became progressively worse. I only remember how you and your mother treated me. I do not blame you. I can only imagine your grief and pain. In my lucid moments I contemplated what was happening and upon researching more I discovered what was done to me. I promptly gathered my things and left. Where I went, I stil cannot tell you. All that is important is that they have not found me. They do not know that their weapon can be broken. I know that nothing I can say will bring back the years taken from you and your mother. I only hope that you will grow to understand what I needed to do to keep you an your mother safe.There may still be people looking for me, which is why it is of utmost importance you never tell anyone about this correspondence.I love you son.
Always,
Jonathan
© 2009 by Laira Reid
