Читать книгу Ghost Writers - David Shaw - Страница 15

Never too late to say sorry

There were two messages left on Jason’s answering machine. Pressing the play button, he looked over at his partner for some kind of reassurance. Keith nodded his head to signify his approval. As the first message was played, both men just stared at the floor, not moving, not saying a word. The second message relayed virtually the same information, except this time there was a bit more urgency in the caller’s voice.

At the hospital, Jason asked Keith to remain in the waiting area whilst he went to see the attending doctor. The hospital ward was extremely busy, but Jason somehow knew which particular doctor he needed to speak to.

‘I... I… I’m here about my father, William Thornton’, stuttered Jason; his words struggling to come out despite the fact that he had been rehearsing this sentence in his mind for the past thirty minutes whilst driving to the hospital.

Without saying a word, the doctor quickly ushered Jason into a private room where his father lay motionless on his death bed. Suddenly, there were only two men in this room; two men who hadn’t spoken a single word in almost five years, and yet neither man seemed keen to end this linguistic drought. The noisy hospital ward had thankfully become incredulously quiet, although five years of simmering tension had prevented either man from even looking the other squarely in the eye.

‘Son, I’m dying,’ whispered William, a tear slowly garnishing his pale, yellowish face as the silence was finally broken.

As Jason slowly raised his head, he would see only a shadow of the man who had brutally thrown him out of the family home almost five years earlier. That was the day that his mother was laid to rest after she committed suicide. His father had blamed Jason for her death. He maintained that his wife could never accept the fact that her son was gay and the constant shame instigated her chronic depressive state. In actual fact, it was Jason’s father who couldn’t accept his son’s sexuality and he started drinking heavily. Eventually, his mother couldn’t take any more of her husband’s alcohol-fuelled behaviour and she overdosed on sleeping tablets. On the day of her funeral, both men had a huge argument and Jason didn’t see his father again – until this moment.

Jason suddenly pointed his forefinger aggressively in the direction of his father. ‘You blamed me for Mum’s death. You’re not going to blame me for yours!’

‘I know I did…and I was wrong,’ replied William, before holding out his hand and beckoning his son to approach the side of his bed. ‘I lost my wife five years ago and then I lost my son because of some stupid religious belief. I am so sorry for everything.’

William then wrenched his lifeless body up one final time to whisper into his son’s ear. ‘Despite what’s happened between us I never stopped loving you. I was just too ashamed of myself to admit it. That’s why I arranged for the nurse to telephone you on my behalf.’

As Jason listened to his father’s tender words he felt five years of hatred slowly begin to evaporate. He held his father’s hand and nodded his head in approval. The tension, previously evident in the faces of both men, began to disappear. And as William relaxed he whispered his final words. ‘I’m so very proud of you. I only wish I could’ve been half the man that you have become.’

As William’s body began to sink comfortably into the contours of the hospital bed Jason realised that his father was breathing his final breath. ‘I forgive you, Dad, I forgive you, I do love you…’

In that one final moment, they made their peace. The courage of an apology and the compassion of forgiveness was all that they could finally offer each other. Nonetheless, it was all that they would ever truly need.

The hustle and bustle of the hospital ward returned as succinctly as it had somehow disappeared; and as doctors and nurses prepared for the world’s problems to come crashing through the hospital doors, there would at least be one less to worry about from this day forth.