Parenthood

The next day arrives, with a pounding headache and an unwelcome reminder of why I don’t party like I used to as a young man. That loud water feature in the backyard pounds against my ear drums.

Clunk. Clunk.

In a blur, I make myself some coffee. Leia is standing in the living room, her arms crossed, a serious, denigrating expression on her face, her hair frizzled from a rough night of sleep. I had taken the first cup of coffee. In my hubris, I had forgotten that was against the rules. She huffs and puffs as I hand over her cup.

“As soon as you’re ready, you have a meeting to attend. I hope you’re not still drunk.”

I grimaced. How serious of a meeting are we talking here?

“It’s with Slime Lord Volcan, Uragas’s counterpart.”

My stomach feels like it dropped to the floor. A wave of nausea hits me for a moment.

For a moment, I recollect myself, grasping my forehead, feeling a cold sweat come over me. I’m in no condition to negotiate anything right now.

“I’ll give you a few hours to get ready. It’s in the afternoon, anyway. Fredericus has things handled at the station.”

Ah. Sweet relief. I sink onto the couch, and she joins me, leaning in too close, as usual.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done, John?”, she asks, with a vicious tinge of scheming, rueful happiness.

I glare at her. No, not really.

“You’ve set our country on the path to freedom. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

I sense ulterior motives here. This woman has been all business, all the time, from the moment I met her. To my surprise, I see her leaning in even closer.

She gives me a sweet, sensuous kiss on the cheek, then grins at me. I turn bright red, like a beet.

“What exactly are you doing?”, I ask, probingly.

“Nothing!”. She continues grinning at me. Her deep iridescent blue eyes, like always, analytically peer into my very soul.

“You made me proud last night. I knew you could do it.”

I lean back and sigh. I signed up to be a police chief, not a revolutionary leader. There’s only a certain amount of extra assignments I can handle before I throw in the towel.

“That being said, there’s something you should know, John.”

This immediately captures my attention. Her expression has gotten much more serious.

“Two days ago, a Human Retrieval Team recovered another man from your world. He had fallen into the pipeline and was brought to the Royal College of Magic’s medical wing.”

Who could it be? My favorite lieutenant? My former Chief?

“We have reason to believe it’s your son.”

I can scarcely believe what I’m hearing. I just stare at her, unflinching, trying to piece this together.

“David?”

“Yes, David.”

I spill a little bit of my coffee. My hand is shaking. I set my mug down.

“He’s okay, don’t worry.”, she reassures me.

“He suffered tremendously during the retrieval process. It looks like he arrived in the air, and nearly drowned when we captured him. He’s been in suspended animation at the College, being worked on by the very best experts in human medical science.”

My son is here, too? How? What on earth happened? Did he die?

“How did he get here?”, I croak, the worry in my voice made plain.

“Well, John, he died. I personally witnessed his memories. It appears that when you died, he spiraled out of control, drinking alcohol every day, and he somehow died.”

My stomach sinks again, for the second time this morning. The aggressive, acidic concoction of coffee and creamer in my stomach rages against me. I gag, a little, covering my mouth. A cold sweat overtakes me. I did this to him.

“Typically, when a human dies, we’re able to see their memories up until their final moments. Your son’s last few months of living are a blur to us, likely due to the alcohol. We’ve pored over the data and can’t pin down exactly what took him.”

Something I’d been dreading since the moment I’ve arrived here, kept securely in the back of my mind, is what happened to my son since I’d been killed. I had assumed, in vain, that my pension, my retirement, my paid-off house, all would have given him a launchpad to live his own life. My career was solely for him, despite his troubles. I wanted everything for him.

“What we did see was the moment he was informed of your death. He went straight into your bedroom and retrieved a bottle of alcohol, after placing your badge on your bedside table. That’s the last clear memory we were able to retrieve from him.”

I bury my face in my hands. The urge to cry overwhelms me. I can feel Leia’s warm, soft arm reach across my shoulder. I’d had a problem with alcohol my entire life. By some miracle, I kept it under control to where I still managed to hold down a job and build a fruitful career. Everyone else did the same. It was normal.

I knew my son drank. I didn’t think it was that bad. I kept track of the empty beer cans in the recycling. I knew his room was messy, but that was out of sheer laziness, and those cans were old, he’d say. Was this my fault?

I let out an exasperated sob. It was my fault. I was supposed to be the example he looked up to. I failed him.

Leia leans in closer, whispering in my ear.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself. He’s alright now. Soon, you’ll get a chance to meet him. Just be patient, and try not to let this distract you. Both you and him are in grave danger now.”

I turn and look at her, my eyes bright red, marked by veins. I haven’t cried, but I’m close.

“Are you sure he’s going to be alright?”, I ask.

“Yes. The vast majority of cases like him survive. The reason he’s in suspended animation is not just due to his health.”

“What do you mean?”, I croak.

“Very rarely, human candidates express a capacity for magic abilities when they cross over to our world. Even more rarely, they express an aptitude for them.”

My eyes widen.

“Your son is gifted in magic. By the metrics we use to evaluate student mage candidates, he is already at the level at which grand-master students, late in life, hope to achieve after years of study.”

A sickening mixture of hope and despair rocks me. On the one hand, I’m happy for him. He won’t be useless, like me. On the other hand, I’ve just condemned him to a life outside of his control.

“We’ve had to keep him in suspended animation, because in his unconscious state, he could cast magic that would be extremely dangerous to the general public. Given that he has no knowledge of this world, and the inherent link between cognition of feelings and casting magic, it’s very likely that he could accidentally or intentionally destroy this city.”

I need a moment to take this all in.

“What does this mean for him, exactly?”

She continues.

“If he were a child, he would be inducted into the training regimen to become an Elder Mage, or even one of the wardens in charge of the prison. His magical ability is truly enormous. This has become a major security concern, not only for the College, but the government as well.”

“I’ve spoken with Kalth. He has relayed with the king, and the consensus is that we’ll let you talk to him. As it stands, he is one of the most dangerous humans we’ve ever encountered. If he were to spiral out of control, he could fall under the influence of one of the Slime Lords, or worse, act on his own.”

“You’ve got to talk to him, John. Given he’s your son, he could be an unbelievably important asset to us.”

A range of bitter, mean thoughts race through my head. An asset to you? My son is just an asset? Was everything I did here just so you people could exact your political machinations? Do they expect me to just play my part and not question anything that’s going on?

My face has turned red again, this time from anger.

“What do you people want with him?”, I ask, with a thinly veiled accusation of betrayal, seething with rage.

“We want you and your son to reconcile. This is a chance to pursue your dreams, and bring David along with you. We want what’s best for you and your son. Please, trust me John, I know this must be difficult for you, but we want to help both of you.”

Leia and I have a sort of Texas stare-down, where I eye her with mistrust, and she pleads with me, without saying a word. I cave in.

“Very well.”

I admit defeat. This woman has bested me time and time again. It’s not just that she’s the spitting image of the girl of my dreams, but she’s got a head on her shoulders beyond anyone I’d ever met or trusted. She’s smart as can be. A melancholic pang of feelings envelopes me. I trust her, but boy, does it hurt.