fact, yes: Eliezer, my son.”
It was a strange moment. Perhaps, after all, I didn’t expect that answer. It was the first time that I heard Norman utter his son’s name. I never opened the door to know that side of him that was so mysterious. The curiosity brought me to ask him about his personal life at least once a year. I always got the same answer: “It would be better to talk about the present.”
“And you didn’t think of telling me?” It was difficult for me to conceal my disgust.
“I’m telling you now.”
There was no reason to argue. Norman already made his decision, and I hadn’t the faintest idea why. What I did know was that there was no going back.
My eyebrows rose–an involuntary reaction when rejecting a response… to the thoughtlessness.
“Come, lie down and rest a while.”
A-ha! Look at how I lie by your side, Norman.
That would not lighten the load of baggage that I carried, nor the fatigue, and would certainly have terrible repercussions if his wife were to spy on us secretly through the doorway. If there were something that he had taught me, it was learning from my mistakes.
I heaved a sigh.
“I have to go, Norman. I have several things I need to do. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” I took my purse and began to walk toward the door, formulating my next question without worrying about what his response would be.
“Sure, Miranda. I’ll look for you tomorrow.”
He really wanted my company. Anyway, I was the only company that he has had in years. Before crossing the threshold, I turned around.
“Only one more thing, Norman. What is Eliezer like? It seems that at the very least you owe me a recommendation.”
The man sitting in the hospital bed laughed.
“Understand that I don’t know. I think that in time you’ll have tell
me
.”
That response left me speechless. Those words assured me that I had no idea what he was doing.
How the hell do you leave the reins of your life’s work to a stranger?
Although he was his son, Norman didn’t know Eliezer. He didn’t know anything at all about this man who shared his blood!
What was happening? As much as I tried, I couldn’t understand the reasons for the decision. I approached Norman again. I didn’t take my eyes off him. I wanted to analyze every clue that his body language could give me.
“What’s going on, Norman?” I asked in a calm and empathic tone.
“Nothing is going on, Miranda. It’s a decision I made… period.”
His face didn’t give off even the smallest signal of regret or doubt.
Another one of Ethan’s good disciples?
“Norman, excuse me, but I don’t understand. I am trying to find logic in your actions, but I can’t. Please forgive my indiscretion. It’s that it worries me that you are making decisions at such a vulnerable time.”
He signaled to keep quiet with a hand gesture.
“The answers to your questions are simple. I was at death’s door. My son reappears in my life, and I want him to be able to have what I built for him. Is it the best decision? I don’t know, but I can’t run the risk of not doing it while I have this second chance at life.”
“I understand,” and I said nothing more.
I lowered my eyes so that he wouldn’t be able to hear what my eyes were screaming at him:
How wrong you are, Norman. What an insensitive mistake you’re making. Why didn’t you name me?
“That’s why I need you there,” he continued explaining. “You have been with me for so many years. You know the essence of what we want to do with Medika better than anyone: what is our mission, our philosophy, that is, what we want to do other than make money.”
I sighed while I rolled my eyes.
“I need you to trust me, Miranda.”
Again, those screaming eyes: How can I trust you, Norman? A lie crossed my lips–maybe it was a compassionate lie.
“You know that you have my trust, Norman.” A pause brought me to confess part of the truth to him. “Even though I cannot stop thinking that
It was a strange moment. Perhaps, after all, I didn’t expect that answer. It was the first time that I heard Norman utter his son’s name. I never opened the door to know that side of him that was so mysterious. The curiosity brought me to ask him about his personal life at least once a year. I always got the same answer: “It would be better to talk about the present.”
“And you didn’t think of telling me?” It was difficult for me to conceal my disgust.
“I’m telling you now.”
There was no reason to argue. Norman already made his decision, and I hadn’t the faintest idea why. What I did know was that there was no going back.
My eyebrows rose–an involuntary reaction when rejecting a response… to the thoughtlessness.
“Come, lie down and rest a while.”
A-ha! Look at how I lie by your side, Norman.
That would not lighten the load of baggage that I carried, nor the fatigue, and would certainly have terrible repercussions if his wife were to spy on us secretly through the doorway. If there were something that he had taught me, it was learning from my mistakes.
I heaved a sigh.
“I have to go, Norman. I have several things I need to do. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” I took my purse and began to walk toward the door, formulating my next question without worrying about what his response would be.
“Sure, Miranda. I’ll look for you tomorrow.”
He really wanted my company. Anyway, I was the only company that he has had in years. Before crossing the threshold, I turned around.
“Only one more thing, Norman. What is Eliezer like? It seems that at the very least you owe me a recommendation.”
The man sitting in the hospital bed laughed.
“Understand that I don’t know. I think that in time you’ll have tell
me
.”
That response left me speechless. Those words assured me that I had no idea what he was doing.
How the hell do you leave the reins of your life’s work to a stranger?
Although he was his son, Norman didn’t know Eliezer. He didn’t know anything at all about this man who shared his blood!
What was happening? As much as I tried, I couldn’t understand the reasons for the decision. I approached Norman again. I didn’t take my eyes off him. I wanted to analyze every clue that his body language could give me.
“What’s going on, Norman?” I asked in a calm and empathic tone.
“Nothing is going on, Miranda. It’s a decision I made… period.”
His face didn’t give off even the smallest signal of regret or doubt.
Another one of Ethan’s good disciples?
“Norman, excuse me, but I don’t understand. I am trying to find logic in your actions, but I can’t. Please forgive my indiscretion. It’s that it worries me that you are making decisions at such a vulnerable time.”
He signaled to keep quiet with a hand gesture.
“The answers to your questions are simple. I was at death’s door. My son reappears in my life, and I want him to be able to have what I built for him. Is it the best decision? I don’t know, but I can’t run the risk of not doing it while I have this second chance at life.”
“I understand,” and I said nothing more.
I lowered my eyes so that he wouldn’t be able to hear what my eyes were screaming at him:
How wrong you are, Norman. What an insensitive mistake you’re making. Why didn’t you name me?
“That’s why I need you there,” he continued explaining. “You have been with me for so many years. You know the essence of what we want to do with Medika better than anyone: what is our mission, our philosophy, that is, what we want to do other than make money.”
I sighed while I rolled my eyes.
“I need you to trust me, Miranda.”
Again, those screaming eyes: How can I trust you, Norman? A lie crossed my lips–maybe it was a compassionate lie.
“You know that you have my trust, Norman.” A pause brought me to confess part of the truth to him. “Even though I cannot stop thinking that
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