i'm reading a novel called Silent Joe right now. while i'll be posting a review later, coz it's a wonderful book. but right now, we're dealing with something else.
when he's six months old, the central character Joe gets acid thrown in his face by his own father, he's later operated, and placed in a Home, with a permanently scarred face, and mind. the father is arrested.
Joe's adoptive father is murdered, Joe's trying to find out who did it, and bang in the middle of this, Joe's real father writes to him, saying he wants to meet and ask for forgiveness. something about how he cant get into heaven unless his kid forgives him.
i won't narrate the meeting between the father and son, i'll just type out the part. it's a first person narrative. here goes:
he came into the waiting area with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. i stepped away from the tree.
Thor stopped and looked at me. his blue eyes caught the light. he shifted the duffel. he nodded.
"Joe"
"Thor"
"you didnt call the cops on me"
"i am the cops"
"yup. dont bust me. i cant do the lock up again. it'd kill me"
his voice was high and clear. his teeth showed when he talked, but you couldn't say it was a smile.
a family came up behind him and split into two parts as they went past. the dad had a kid on his shoulders and the boy towered over Thor. i'd never realised how short he was, though i remembered hid height from the intake records i'd gotten from Corcoran: 5'6".
"you going to let me stay at your place?"
"no"
"i already know where it is."
"dont show up without an invite"
he sighed like he was disappointed. "you sure?"
"extremely."
"yeah, well, i really dont blame you. i'd be pressed out of shape too."
some of the people were watching us now. Thor looked at them and seemed to be smiling. a girl in a pink dress and shiny shoes stopped and looked up at me, then made a face and backed away. her mother gathered her up and i heard the muffled words, but i hardly pad attention to them.
i watched Thor. i had no memory of seeing him. i was ready to feel like i was in the presence of something evil and eternal. but with all his stage time in my nightmares, in the flesh he seemed mortal and matter-of-fact.
"you've been on the TV and the papers a lot, Joe. all the way up in seattle, even. they find that girl and her brother yet?"
"no"
"crazy world"
"you'd know"
"yeah" he took two steps toward me and lowered his duffel to the ground. "shake my hand."
i shook it. my scar flared hot and my bones felt frozen. i could barely grip his hard, rough hand. it seemed like every bad emotion was roaring inside of me, every single bad feeling a person could have, all at once. no order or logic to them at all.
i saw his blue eyes studying me from the light of the station. "it dont really look that bad, Joe. Hurt?"
"sometimes"
"you look good in the hat and suit. expensive, i can tell"
"i shop sales."
he eyed me. "well, look now, i'm sorry for what i did and i need you to forgive me. i've checked out a bunch of religions. and any one that's got any kindof hell, a guy like me goes right to it."
"you should have picked a religion without one."
"no. i wanted a God with some teeth in him. these touchy-feely ones dont get through to me. the bible says i ought to square things with you. eye for an eye, and all that. i got some acid in a peanut butter jar, right here in my duffel. you can pour it on me if that will get you to forgive. it's more than got poured on you. then you could tell me it's okay, what happened. you could see there's more to your old man than the worst thing that happened in his life."
"i forgive you," i said. it surprised me. "but if i ever see you again, i'm going to empty my gun in your heart. from this second on, you dont exist"
with shaking hands i got out my wallet and found three hundreds. i handed them to him.
"good luck, old man. that ought to be enough to get you home."
"thank you, son. great to see you. good luck to you, too"
when he's six months old, the central character Joe gets acid thrown in his face by his own father, he's later operated, and placed in a Home, with a permanently scarred face, and mind. the father is arrested.
Joe's adoptive father is murdered, Joe's trying to find out who did it, and bang in the middle of this, Joe's real father writes to him, saying he wants to meet and ask for forgiveness. something about how he cant get into heaven unless his kid forgives him.
i won't narrate the meeting between the father and son, i'll just type out the part. it's a first person narrative. here goes:
______________________________
i saw him once, through the window, when he got off the train. then again as he walked into the station. same as the pictures, same as the dreams: downy, white hair and beard, potbelly; big head low on his shoulders like he'd been assembled without a neck.he came into the waiting area with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. i stepped away from the tree.
Thor stopped and looked at me. his blue eyes caught the light. he shifted the duffel. he nodded.
"Joe"
"Thor"
"you didnt call the cops on me"
"i am the cops"
"yup. dont bust me. i cant do the lock up again. it'd kill me"
his voice was high and clear. his teeth showed when he talked, but you couldn't say it was a smile.
a family came up behind him and split into two parts as they went past. the dad had a kid on his shoulders and the boy towered over Thor. i'd never realised how short he was, though i remembered hid height from the intake records i'd gotten from Corcoran: 5'6".
"you going to let me stay at your place?"
"no"
"i already know where it is."
"dont show up without an invite"
he sighed like he was disappointed. "you sure?"
"extremely."
"yeah, well, i really dont blame you. i'd be pressed out of shape too."
some of the people were watching us now. Thor looked at them and seemed to be smiling. a girl in a pink dress and shiny shoes stopped and looked up at me, then made a face and backed away. her mother gathered her up and i heard the muffled words, but i hardly pad attention to them.
i watched Thor. i had no memory of seeing him. i was ready to feel like i was in the presence of something evil and eternal. but with all his stage time in my nightmares, in the flesh he seemed mortal and matter-of-fact.
"you've been on the TV and the papers a lot, Joe. all the way up in seattle, even. they find that girl and her brother yet?"
"no"
"crazy world"
"you'd know"
"yeah" he took two steps toward me and lowered his duffel to the ground. "shake my hand."
i shook it. my scar flared hot and my bones felt frozen. i could barely grip his hard, rough hand. it seemed like every bad emotion was roaring inside of me, every single bad feeling a person could have, all at once. no order or logic to them at all.
i saw his blue eyes studying me from the light of the station. "it dont really look that bad, Joe. Hurt?"
"sometimes"
"you look good in the hat and suit. expensive, i can tell"
"i shop sales."
he eyed me. "well, look now, i'm sorry for what i did and i need you to forgive me. i've checked out a bunch of religions. and any one that's got any kindof hell, a guy like me goes right to it."
"you should have picked a religion without one."
"no. i wanted a God with some teeth in him. these touchy-feely ones dont get through to me. the bible says i ought to square things with you. eye for an eye, and all that. i got some acid in a peanut butter jar, right here in my duffel. you can pour it on me if that will get you to forgive. it's more than got poured on you. then you could tell me it's okay, what happened. you could see there's more to your old man than the worst thing that happened in his life."
"i forgive you," i said. it surprised me. "but if i ever see you again, i'm going to empty my gun in your heart. from this second on, you dont exist"
with shaking hands i got out my wallet and found three hundreds. i handed them to him.
"good luck, old man. that ought to be enough to get you home."
"thank you, son. great to see you. good luck to you, too"
______________________________
well, the reason that part keeps rewinding and playing itself in my minds is that my parents were divorced when i was a kid, and i grew up seeing my mother struggling to raise me.
i never managed to hate my father, in the true sense of the word, but i never did manage to forgive him either.
i was kind of surprised at the way Joe manages to forgive his father. i can very well imagine the effort that must have gone into uttering those three words, "i forgive you." even if it's just a story, it struck me hard.
things are fine now. i'm tons more comfortable with my step-dad than i was before, and vice versa. real dad is almost like a memory from another life.
but every now and then, i keep remembering the time when i was torn between love for my mom, who hated, and still hates my dad, and love for my dad, who coolly went ahead and married another woman, and we didnt even know about it till their daughter was about a year old. i have trouble believing that only dad was at fault for the whole thing, but at least mom was there for me all these years. fucking past never leaves you, however hard you try.
the question is, if today my real dad suddenly comes along and asks me to forgive him, will i be able to?
honest answer: i dont know.
damn it, i could have done without this shit. why do i ever let these things come into my head at all?
well, the reason that part keeps rewinding and playing itself in my minds is that my parents were divorced when i was a kid, and i grew up seeing my mother struggling to raise me.
i never managed to hate my father, in the true sense of the word, but i never did manage to forgive him either.
i was kind of surprised at the way Joe manages to forgive his father. i can very well imagine the effort that must have gone into uttering those three words, "i forgive you." even if it's just a story, it struck me hard.
things are fine now. i'm tons more comfortable with my step-dad than i was before, and vice versa. real dad is almost like a memory from another life.
but every now and then, i keep remembering the time when i was torn between love for my mom, who hated, and still hates my dad, and love for my dad, who coolly went ahead and married another woman, and we didnt even know about it till their daughter was about a year old. i have trouble believing that only dad was at fault for the whole thing, but at least mom was there for me all these years. fucking past never leaves you, however hard you try.
the question is, if today my real dad suddenly comes along and asks me to forgive him, will i be able to?
honest answer: i dont know.
damn it, i could have done without this shit. why do i ever let these things come into my head at all?
