Pieces of a Masterpiece

07: Short Story

Freedom

Lucky are those people who have came this long,  survived the nth wave of the pandemic who never surrender their faith and hope. The normal days the world once have will never be back.

Jerusalem starred at the old picture frame plastered in their green walls. With his eyes shedding, he reminisced the past when he used to wear the same white lab coat and free to walk with his own feet. He used to treat patients with his vast knowledge in medicine, not until... a dilemma happened.

"The old good days," he thought averting his gaze off from the pictures. He was never getting better since then. Everytime he remembered the dark past, he couldn't stop himself but blame.

He shook his head, withdrawing the thought off. He must move on. He must heal.

Jerusalem then drove his pace to the glass table where he could relax himself with the coffee served for him. Not just a long seconds, little footsteps started to ran down the stairs.

"Daddy, how does it feels playing outside?" young Bethlehem asked. The young child was holding the photo album again with Jerusalem's teenage years. He held it on his chest, feeling the scenario in the picture, the mountains of Everest with the sun hiding behind.

"I always felt freedom everytime I ran through the grasses, chasing light," he replied. He then put his eyeglasses down and let the newspaper rest again on its usual place. The thought of still having Bethlehem made him comfortable.

" Can I ran like you do papa?" the young boy asked again. The remarkable smile from Jerusalem's face had plastered again. After a long time, his heart had leaped this fast.

"Of course, you can, but beware of the cops." He changed his pace and drove himself to click the door open.

"Are you sure daddy?" The innocence in Bethlehem's face never failed to amused his father.

Jerusalem just nodded in response, saving the moment for his son.

Bethlehem then ran outside, to the backyard and he felt the warm breeze touching his soft skin. His lips formed a curve then into laughters. There were also butterflies around the garden. The child chased the colorful insects and played hide and seek with them.

Indeed, the child had missed, the good old days. Seeing his son in enjoyment Jerusalem sighed, he could gave everything for him but not the freedom he deserved.

With a tear on her eyes Tel Aviv, his wife tap Jerusalem from his back. "Breakfast is serve honey." She managed to compose herself not to breakdown from the situation. Jerusalem's minor symptoms of schizophrenia had attacked again.

"Is it a fault not to let go of the dead?" he thought gripping the picture of Bethlehem on his chest. The pandemic may not claimed his life but it left a remarkable scar on his heart. A wound he couldn't let go of. The dilemma which changed everything, from his profession, to his state of mind. He saved a lot of patients but failed to save his only son from the virus. His contrition was haunting him.

"I'm sorry if I can't give freedom to Bethlehem's soul."