The nurse leaned closer. “Okay, we’re going to eat now,” she announced, placing a bib around his neck.
After eating, Jeremy was granted the privilege of a walk. Then at the end of lu
nch a nurse’s aide led him to the cafeteria. She brought him a cake with one lit candle on top.
“Happy birthday, Mr. Delègue,” she sang, proud of his attention. “There wasn’t enough room for seventy candles, so I just put on one. Let’s pretend.”
Jeremy registered this information with complete indifference. Seventy years old, he thought. He looked much older. He had made a twenty-two-year jump in his life. Twenty-two years without waking up. So what? He was close to death.
The nurse got the attention of the other retirees in the room. “We’re going to sing for Mr. Delègue. Come on, everyone together.”
All the people—old, lucid, lost, happy, sad, crippled, and paralyzed—started singing. Jeremy looked at them in horror. Life was mocking him. He wanted to ignore it, resolved to be indifferent until his death, but life kept harassing him, clever and cruel. He was a young man of twenty years imprisoned in the body of an old invalid. All around him absent faces, well-meaning or hallucinating, sang to him about the time that had passed. So he started to laugh, hysterical laughter, choked by a throat he couldn’t open. A mad laughter, a lunatic’s laughter he couldn’t explain.
I’m among the living dead. Right where I belong. I don’t have a family anymore. I’m alone. How unhappy the one who destroyed my life must be! Stuck in a wheelchair, he eats with a tiny spoon and sings with madmen!
Jeremy was calm. A nurse had led him to a patio, and the sun caressed his skin. He appreciated this moment of solitude in a gentle breeze. He wanted to die right then, soothed by this feeling of well-being. He closed his eyes, hoping to go to sleep and hasten his end.
“Happy birthday,” came a voice that Jeremy recognized immediately. Simon was standing in front of him with a gift box in his hands.
The mixture of surprise and joy at seeing him, and his embarrassment over the circumstances, confused Jeremy. He panicked. What did his son want with him? Why did he look so kind? Had he already seen him in this pitiful condition?
Simon sat facing him. He seemed embarrassed and pursed his lips like he was holding back an uncertain expression.
Jeremy tried to talk but could only extract one stifled syllable from his mouth.
Not knowing what to say or do, Simon showed him the present and placed it on Jeremy’s knees, smiling. “I’ll open it for you if you want.”
Jeremy was happy to hear how casually he spoke to him now.
Simon tore open the package and brought out a cap and scarf. He hesitated before placing the scarf around his father’s neck. Next he placed the cap on his head and stood back to examine his work. “I think it looks pretty good.”
Jeremy bobbed his head slightly in thanks and gently raised his arm. He was delighted to see Simon so caring. He tried to breathe gently to say a few words. But once again, he could only emit a series of grotesque noises.
“You want to talk to me? The nurses told me you can write with your right hand. They gave me paper and a pen.”
So he still had one way to communicate left. Jeremy took the sheet of paper and pen and wrote: “Why did you come to see me?”
Simon took the paper and read the question. He didn’t lift his head right away. He thought a moment, a sad grin twisting his lips. “Because it’s your birthday. And today, maybe you’re my father.”
The words shocked Jeremy. With a single movement, he took back the paper. “Have you come before, since the last time we met?”
Simon nodded. “Yes, often. And on every one of your birthdays. You’ve never asked questions.”
The two men exchanged a deep look that let so many words, so many affectionate gestures, so many regrets, and so much joy circulate between them.
“On each of my visits, I hoped for a sign. A look that would help me understand whether I had in front of me the man I left in that hotel room. The first five years, you refused to see me. Then I forced my presence on you, but you remained cold, unapproachable. I saw your eyes moving, trying to understand what I was doing there. I knew every time you weren’t your normal self. That inside your frozen body you were that other person. It wasn’t like today. It’s strange, but somehow I knew right away.”
Jeremy’s eyes misted over. His son had found him, cared for him.
Simon took his hand. “What did you do to become like this?” he asked quietly. “There wasn’t any other way?”
“Maybe, but I didn’t have a choice. Tell me about yourself, your life, your brother. And your mother.”
“You think it’s a good idea?” Simon asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jeremy replied affirmatively. “Mom and Thomas don’t know how you got this way. I never told them about the time we met, the day you got out of prison, or what I heard about the attack the next day when I went back to your hotel. I made up a story about a car accident. For them, you’re pinned to a wheelchair somewhere in Florida. I had to put you farther away so they could imagine you somewhere else, harmless but still enjoying life, in a manner of speaking. If I told them the truth, Mom would’ve blamed herself. She would’ve thought you put yourself in this condition to save her. And she could never live happily knowing you were so close and in such bad shape.
“I’m the one who got you placed here. I saw specialists. I did research to see if there’s ever been a case of amnesia like yours, but I never found one. The doctors didn’t give me much reason to hope you’d ever recover your true personality. But I didn’t give up on you.”