Unlike Father

“Do you understand what I’m telling you, son?” His face read like a crisp map, rigid and unfolding with a specific destination in mind. “You get how important this is, right?” There was no hint of pleading or hope, just a stern look. He recognized that look. He’d seen it a thousand times. It meant he needed to understand what his father wasn’t saying, and do exactly that. “Tell me you understand,” he spoke louder. He finally nodded.

“I understand,” he said, and he did. He watched his father nod in approval and then walk out of the small room. When he opened the door, hundreds of voices crept through the other side. Without a glance back, he closed the door behind him and shut the noise out.

He could suddenly hear his heartbeat louder. It was beating fast. He could feel his blood rushing through him, as though searching for a way to burst out of him like a hot stream. He needed to sit, but felt he couldn’t move. What was he going to do?

The door suddenly opened again and he looked up. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw his sister. She carried a nervous smile on her face that relaxed when their eyes met. He could feel his energy begin to relax also. She always had that sort of effect on him. She closed the door immediately behind her and stepped over to him quietly.

“Are you ok?” she asked. He shrugged and then shook his head, no. She brought her arm to his shoulder and guided him to a seat behind him. “It’s ok,” she told him as he sat. “It’s going to be ok.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” he finally admitted. She rubbed his back a bit and looked at him, her eyes filled with sympathy. “But what choice do I have?” She stopped rubbing and sat next to him.

“Doing it or not doing it aren’t the only choices you have,” she whispered.

“What do you mean?” Those felt like the only options to him.

“There’s also the choice of doing it his way, or yours.” He looked at her, scared and confused. Their eyes met and he calmed again. Her eyes were so kind and caring, nothing like their fathers. She smiled at him. “There are always many choices before us,” she explained. “Just because we don’t like most of them, doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” She always had a way of explaining things so that they made sense to him.

“Tell me what they are,” he asked.

“You know what they are,” she answered, taking his hand in her own. “You’re smarter and wiser than you think. He,” she darted her eyes to the door and hardened her voice at the mention of their father. “works hard to cloud your judgement, but deep down you’re better than he is.”

He’d never understood how she could speak of their father that way. As though she weren’t afraid of him. He was terrified. The way he took over a room when he entered it. The way everyone followed his every move and listened to his every word. He’d always been in complete awe of the power he wielded. When he’d been younger, he’d wanted to be a part of it. For the longest time, he’d hoped he’d inherited his abilities, both genetically and as his right. But he wasn't like him. He was as unlike his as he could possibly be. And no matter what he did to try and please him, the harder he tried to make him happy and learn from him, the further his father seemed to push him away. More often than not, it felt as though he was nothing but a disappointment. Thankfully, his sister had always been there. Despite the six years in between them, they’d always been close. She’d always been kind and caring, more nurturing than either of their parents were capable of being. He’d never understood how she came to be so kind and loving, but then, she’d had to survive their parents alone for six years. Perhaps her greatness was their doing. In the long run though, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was there, and he loved her and was grateful for her being his sister each and every day.

“I could get up there and do exactly as he says,” he started, and she nodded. “Or, I could get up there and just make jokes.” She laughed and he smiled. He loved making her laugh. “Or…”

“Or….” she prompted him, still smiling.

“I could go up there and be myself. Speak my truth.” His sister nodded, her smile widening as she moved in to hug him.

“Yes!” she exclaimed as they pulled apart. “Speak your truth. Because it matters just as much as his, and everyone else's in that room.” He nodded, trying to muster up enough courage.

“He’ll kill me,” he said.

“He won’t. That’s just an expression we use to psych ourselves out of doing great things, sometimes necessary things.”

“Fine, he won’t kill me. But he’ll make my life a living hell.” She sighed and looked away.

“Perhaps. But is it more important to save yourself, or tell the truth?” He struggled, though he knew the answer. He knew what he wanted to do, but could still feel his legs like jelly, refusing to work with him and allow him to move. He could feel his heart beginning to pound again, could hear it is in his ears. She grabbed his hand and forced him to look at her again. As always, her eyes were soft, kind and filled with patience and love.

“You’ve got this!” she told him. “Whatever you decide. Whatever happens, during or after. You’ve got this.”

“And I’ve got you,” he smiled. It was cheesy for sure, but it was his truth. They hugged again and they both sighed as they parted. She stood and pulled him to stand next to her. There was nothing left to say or do, but to go out there and do what needed to be done. He hadn’t realized he was holding onto her arm until she stopped at the door and turned to him, smiling.

“I’m so proud of you,” she told him. He didn’t know what she could possibly proud of as he hadn’t even done anything yet, but it was nice to hear.

“Thank you,” he told her.

She kissed his cheek and then grabbed the door knob. She turned and opened the door and all of the voices hit him like a sudden burst of rain. Their hopes and fears like raindrops, soaking his clothing, making each step heavier than the last as he approached his father’s side. His father smiled at him, though his eyes didn’t. And when he saw his sister trailing behind him, his smile froze. “Let’s do this,” he said as his father led him to the dais. The crowd quieted as his father approached the microphone.

“I can’t thank you enough for being here today,” he started. “The fact that you continue to turn to me for wisdom and guidance is truly an honor and I take the responsibility very seriously.” He tuned his father out as he looked out over the crowd. So many people, a sea of faces, all blended in to deny any individuality. He watched as they all nodded and clapped at the same moments. He watched as they shook their heads, raised their fists or voices, all when prompted to, like good sheep or cattle. What a good herd they all were, he noted. Just like his father wanted them to be. Listening to his every word as though it were the air they needed to breathe. Believing every value and ideology he fed them as though it were the water or food they required to be nourished. His stomach began to feel queasy as he absorbed all of it. He wanted to turn away and hide from it all, until he noticed a lone face. A young girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen, standing next to her mother. She wasn’t nodding, or clapping. Though she was clearly listening to what was being said, she wasn’t devouring every word as though it were an absolute truth. Her eyes met his and they exchanged an emotion. Helplessness and frustration. When she looked away, he turned his eyes into the crowd to find other young people. Sure enough, they were there. All standing next to their mother or father, obedient and silent. But not one of them seemed to be as enthralled with what was being said as either of their parents. None of them seemed to want to clap or raise their voice with the others. And suddenly, he felt hope, and strength.

“I brought my son with me today, who many of you already know.” He turned to face his father. “When my son heard I was coming to speak with you all today, he insisted on coming.” Lie. “He told me, Dad, I want to help. I want to make this world a better place, just like you.” Lies. The crowd clapped and cheered, and he swore he heard someone yell out his name and ‘I love you’. He smiled awkwardly, but didn’t respond. “So, I brought him here today because as we all know, our children are our future. They are the bright light that will lead us out of the hell and darkness we’ve been led into.” The crowd roared and hollered, though he could see the younger people were simply clapping with little energy. “They will not only make the changes we’ve started to fight for, but ensure stability and longevity also.” More cheers and hollers. “They will make this place great again by ensuring the rights of those who deserve them, who fight for them as we do.” His father finally turned from the microphone and reached out to him. He felt him grab his arm and pull him forward. “I couldn’t be more proud of this young man, and I’m happy you’ll all get to hear and meet him today.” He turned and smiled at him and then hugged him. He allowed it, feeling his strong hands on his back, but he didn’t know what to do with his own. He finally patted his back as the crowd continued to cheer.

“Don’t forget what we talked about,” he whispered as he pulled himself away. He turned to the crowd and smiled and then moved off to the side, motioning for him to approach the microphone.

He took the three steps to get to the microphone as the crowd finally seemed to calm down. He felt warmth and calm encompass him and flow through his entire body. Without a seconds hesitation, he opened his mouth, knowing exactly what to say.

Ⓒ September 2019. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.