The Confession of Hemingway Jones by Kathleen Hannon

Author:Kathleen Hannon [Hannon, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CamCat Publishing

The back of my neck suddenly burned with rejection. He’d tried to leave me. After all I’d done. How? When?

The security guys had barely shut the door to our house when I turned to Dad. I was so angry I was shaking. “Let’s start with the part where you tried to kick it.”

He sighed. “I’m really tired, this could wait.”

“Oh, you can sleep, can you? That’s good. For you, I mean. Personally, I doubt I’d get much after hearing that my dad tried to commit suicide.” I folded my arms and looked at him. “When? When did you do this?”

“The first day you started at Lifebank. It was stupid. I swallowed a bunch of pills, figured that the therapist would find me.”

I kicked the chair. The first day I went to work at Lifebank. In short, his first opportunity. I remembered asking why he was acting so weird. Even though I dreaded the answer, I choked out, “Why?”

“Is it really any great mystery? Because I didn’t want to live like this.” He cast his eyes at the chair. “Anyway, it was stupid, and I’m sorry. You’ve no idea. And if it’s any comfort to you, I didn’t so much as take a nap. Hemingway, I love you, son. I was wrong. It was just a knee-jerk reaction to what I’ve become. I’m not leaving you—”

“And I’m supposed to believe that why?”

“Because as I explained, I don’t know if I can die. Everything on me heals, except the quadriplegia. I’m not even sure I can get sick. The only things so far that I’m susceptible to are heat and lack of hydrogen sulfide.”

We paused, neither of us knowing what to say.

“Is it really all bad?” I finally choked out, dreading the answer.

Dad paused long and hard before saying, “No. Quite the opposite. And that’s the biggest point I’m trying to make to you here. It’s been a couple of weeks, and I’ve had a chance to come to terms with what I am. I’ve learned things I never would have as Bill Jones. Stuff that maybe no one’s ever thought of before. It’s an incredible gift.”

I shook my head furiously, unable to speak.

He saw my refusal and argued, “I’m not telling you this because I want you to forgive yourself. Or me. I’m telling you because it’s true.”

Damn that mind-reading thing.

Dad continued. “I might be stuck in this room, but I don’t feel that way. I go away—in my head—and I can picture solutions to problems no one’s been able to solve. And you know what? It’s absolutely intoxicating. I imagine it’s a little like being on drugs, because sometimes I have to really work to bring myself back to the here and now. In my head, there’s no strife, or war, or catastrophe, because I have potential solutions, you know? Think about that. You gave me that. What a gift. So, thank you.”

“I didn’t give that to you. It just happened,” I said hoarsely.

He grunted. “Fair enough, but I’m grateful anyway, just so you know.

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