Denver Cereal Denver Cereal

Chapter Five Hundred and twenty-three : ...and a dance with the ghosts of the past (part five)


(part five)

“Wow,” Nelson whispered. “My father looks so young.”

“Is that your mother?” Jax asked.

“I don’t know,” Nelson said. He walked up to where she was sitting and leaned down to see her face. “I guess so. I’ve never seen her before.”

“She is very beautiful,” Hedone said. “So full of love. Life. She truly loves you.”

“Sometimes, when I sleep, I have this feeling …” Nelson said. “I can hear her voice.”

Nelson hummed a soft tune.

“Dodo l’enfant do,” Jax said.

Nelson looked at Jax and then at Hedone.

“It’s a French lullaby,” Hedone said. “Very traditional.”

Nelson’s hand went to cover his mouth.

“She probably sang it to you,” Jax said. “You’ve never seen her before?”

“Dad didn’t keep photos of her,” Nelson said. “He’s such a bastard that he…”

Nelson looked up at Hedone and looked back at the couple in front of them.

“He’s so young, so beautiful here,” Nelson said. “Happy. I think that’s him but I …”

The mother’s head jerked up. Her nostrils flared as a man walked down the hall. She squinted. By instinct, she turns grabbed the child and wrapped her body him. Before the father can react, a bomb went off in the baggage compartment behind them. The man and the woman were blown forward into the empty chair in front of them. Somehow, the woman’s body ended up between the man and the bomb. When they landed, the baby was tucked between the woman’s abdomen and the man’s abdomen.

The woman’s head had been sliced in half by a piece of metal from the baggage compartment. Her most of body was shredded by tiny pieces of the metal shrapnel. Only her belly and lap surrounding the baby remained intact. The father was knocked out cold from the shock. His legs and arms were broken.

Miraculously, the baby was uninjured. Startled by the bomb, the baby began to wail.

The scene changed back to the white medical exam room.

“Oh my God,” Nelson whispered. “Oh my God.”

Visibly shaken, Nelson dropped down on the low stool.

“March 29, 1982 on the Capitale,” Jax said evenly.

“Carlos the Jackal,” Nelson said. He glanced at Hedone. “I watched the hearings on French television the first year I was at Denver Health.”

“Your father testified,” Hedone said, evenly.

“He … What?” Nelson broke down.

Jax grabbed him. Nelson wept into Jax’s arms. Jax looked at Hedone, and she nodded. They had time for Nelson to cry.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Nelson said. “I don’t remember any of that. I never saw her, met her … It’s him! I never saw him without a sneer on his face. He hated me. Always. Nothing I did was good enough for him. He …”

Nelson looked at Hedone.

“He is my dark space,” Nelson said.

“One of them,” Hedone said. “Let’s take a look.”

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow…

Next: Chapter Five Hundred and twenty-three : ...and a dance with the ghosts of the past (part six)

Previous: Chapter Five Hundred and twenty-three : ...and a dance with the ghosts of the past (part four)

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