He drummed his fingers on the table. His thoughts went back to his childhood when they were kids, living in an idyllic town in the US. They had played together, shared many family meals, rode the same bus to school together. He was slightly younger than his friend, and had always looked up to him, trying to imitate him in many ways, they had many shared interests, and spent a considerable amount of time together. That was then, when there seemed to be a peaceful sojourn between their communities.
A lot had changed since, after his Dad's death in a car accident, he had moved back with his mother to 'home', a country unknown to him. He had few friends. Books were his refuge. He wanted to belong. So he read, and read as much as he could about his country and his history. History as written by his countrymen. It was a new world to him, and the truth as he perceived it. The one central feature in all he learnt was the conflict. The historic, ongoing, bloody conflict with the neighboring country that now spanned more lives on either side than one could ever keep a count of. As of today, the most recent conflict had been the deadliest, with killings by the thousands on either side. Tempers, frustration, and a thirst for blood had reached a crescendo.
Here he was now, about to receive a call, that would lead him to a meeting with his one-time friend, who had likewise returned with his family to his 'home' country as well. It was ironic that their lives had taken similar paths, pitting them against each other as arch-enemies at the moment. Now he was charged with meeting the other side, because, given their histories and acquaintance as childhood friends, it was thought he might be able to pull off the ruse of trying to pursue peace, with a call for a ceasefire negotiation. He knew that he had to play the bluff while the army prepared itself, to protect his countrymen, and wreak havoc on the other side. It was a strategy, which he must win. He had to buy that time.
"There's a call from the hospital", the IM window on his screen flashed, with a message from the assistant outside the conference room. He looked at her, through the glass wall separating the rooms. She was playing nervously with the ballpoint pen, between her fingers, as she returned his gaze. Her expression did not bode well. His mother had been very ill the past few months. As of this week, the doctors had given her days, at best a few weeks. It was a stressful time. The doctors could not guarantee if she would ever even speak to him again.
"My call is expected in 5 minutes" he responded to the IM, cutting away from the conversation with his colleagues in the room. The call would tell him and his team the secret destination where he was meant to reach, to carry out the mission.
"Your mother is talking and she wants to talk to you, she insists, you may want to take this for 2 minutes, the doctor says so".
"Have the hospital call my mobile", he responded, staring at his screen, both in awe to learn that his mother was indeed talking again, and in total disbelief at the timing of the situation.
He pointed his screen to his colleague next to him, gesturing that he would be stepping out for one quick moment. His colleagues knew of his personal situation.
He stepped onto the cold balcony. The early winter chill seeped into his bones.
His mobile rang. The doctor spoke briefly and then handed it to his mother."Mom, how are you? I'll come as quickly as I can. You just hang in there".
"I'm not sure I'll last until you can make it here." his mother responded feebly. "I have something important to tell you."
A colleague opened the door to the balcony and gestured that he had 2 minutes left.
"Mom... can it wait?"
"No," she said and continued, very slowly. "I am sorry that I am doing this at this time, they said you were very busy now. I think I'm alive now, just to tell you this, after this I can go away in peace." .. there was a brief pause, and she continued, and he could hear her panting and gasping for breath. "Do you remember our neighbors in the US?" she managed to say.
"Yes", he said, chilled at the fact that she should mention them now. His true role at the government and what he did for a living was an unknown to her. The coincidence dizzied him.
She continued again, the labor in her voice now ever more audible, "They .. well, that man, is your real father." Then there was the longest pause "I hope you will forgive me, if I don't see you before I die".
It was like a grenade had blasted inside him. His pain was extreme, but his mind went numb. There was a long silence.
"I have to go now Mom", he said.
He walked back into the room, just as the phone began to ring.
He walked past the table and out of that place, ignoring the ring, and the angry, unbelievable expressions that he was leaving behind.
--- A SHORT STORY --
