Previous: Part One Part Two Part ThreeJohn drove his police cruiser slowly around the block; his eyes transfixed on the road, but his mind floating away in a familiar reverie.
His life hadn’t turned out the way he had hoped for it to. Since school he had been an exceptional student; brilliant in studies, amazing at sports and equally active in extra-curricular. His teachers believed that he might one day even run for the President. He never did.
His dad was a police officer, and he loved his son. “Someday you are going to make your mother and me very proud, son,” his dad used to say, with a grin. His mother had passed away while giving birth to him. He had no siblings. His dad was only family he had, and he was his dad’s only family. He loved his dad, but he knew his dad loved him more. “Two against the world” was his dad’s favorite quote.
His dad was the one who had encouraged him to play rugby. And it had become his second love since. His tackle was well known among his teammates and feared among his opposition players as the “Iron Hammer”. Soon he had become the captain of his school rugby team and even led his team to many a victory, including the State Championship. On passing out from school, he was awarded the Student of the Batch honor.
But things were about to change.
It hadn’t been long after he finished school when his father met with an accident. An armed drunken driver shot his father when he tried to arrest him for drunken driving, unaware about the hidden firearm. He could never forget the night.
The city was being blown away by an oncoming storm when he reached the hospital. All his father’s friends and fellow police officers were waiting in the hall. He had rushed to Uncle George, his father’s childhood friend and partner, “Where is my father? What happened? Please tell me.” Uncle George had given him a sad look, his eyes full of tears. “He wants to speak with you.”
“Please let me see my dad,” he had pleaded the attending nurse. “Ok, but make it fast, he is very unstable,” the nurse had said.
He had kneeled beside his father’s bed, his father looking down at him. His eyes seemed to have lost its life but still full of love for his son. He had smiled weakly and had opened his mouth to say something, but words hadn’t emerged. John had brought his ears closer to his father’s lips to hear his last words.
“Son.”
The monitor screen had gone dead; nurses had started to run around; a monotonous beep had rung across the room; people had escorted John out of the room; Uncle George had driven him home through the raging storm; the rain had battered at the car window through which he had stared blankly outside; Aunt June had hugged him tight on arrival at Uncle George’s house; he had laid silently sleepless on his uncle’s bed the howl of the gale outside echoing through the night.
But nothing registered in his mind. He had lost everything.
***
No comments:
Post a Comment