This monthly ritual was the only thing that Jonathan didn’t like about being terminally ill. Every month, his father took him to the hospital, where doctors gave him medication through an IV.
“This new medication is very potent,” said his father. “Please God it will work.”
Please God? Was that the same God who gave his son a terminal illness? His father was an idiot. He spoke to an imaginary spirit and spent all his money on medication that did nothing to stop the illness from progressing.
But, he had no intention of telling his father this, because to his father, he was the perfect son, devout and obedient – as imaginary as the God he believed in. Jonathan didn’t feel ill now, but one day he would, and then he’d die – just like everyone else with this illness. At eighteen, he had already lived longer than expected.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Dad, I sold another insurance contract, to a new bank in the city.”
His father looked at the contract –another brilliant forgery–, and embraced him, telling him – as he always did – how proud he was of him. “Any university in the world will be fortunate to have you,” he said.
As far as his father knew, Jonathan was not only making thousands a month selling insurance – a role he had given him two years earlier, when he’d retired – but he was also a brilliant student, whose ambition it was to study economics at Harvard.
“About that,” said Jonathan. “The universities are contacting candidates next week. Will you open my letter from Harvard? I want you to be the one to tell me.”
Jonathan masked his repulsion as his father told him what an honor that would be and how certain he was of his success. All of his life, his father had encouraged him to work hard and plan for his future – as if he had a future. Fortunately, Jonathan had gained perspective years ago, and at age sixteen, taken control of his life.
By becoming an expert in forgery, he’d orchestrated everything to give the impression of living in accordance with his father’s vision, while living in accordance with his own. He’d stopped going to school and dedicated himself to pursuing pleasure in every form, indulging in every possible vice.
Because he knew he was going to die young, he was free from the life to which most people were confined, a life of study and work and responsibility, of living today for tomorrow, sacrificing any pleasure now to guarantee financial stability in the years to come.
As he walked through the city that evening after telling his father he was going to see a client, he passed the masses leaving work, pathetic drones who have no concept of the temporary nature of life. They lived as though they were going to live forever. He lived as though he were going to die, and it was an infinitely better life.
He stopped at the bank to get the money he needed to finance another night of pleasure. The balance on the account was getting low, but it was sufficient to finance another year or two of indulgence. He didn’t expect to live much longer.
When his father gave him his insurance business, he also gave him control of the finances associated with it. It was almost too easy to deceive him, and he knew he’d never have to suffer the consequences of his deceit. He spent the night at his favorite club, where he was a week later when his father called him, crying.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” asked Jonathan, feigning concern.
“Oh, son, these are happy tears. I just read the letter. I want to tell you in person, to tell everyone, the entire family… I can’t believe it. Nobody will believe it. Thank God!”
It wasn’t God who was to thank for that letter. Jonathan had forged his acceptance letter from Harvard and sent it the day before. He’d known his father would be pathetically happy when he read it, but he hadn’t expected him to organize a family celebration. He suffered through an hour with his family before his father produced the letter.
But that wasn’t the letter Jonathan had forged. His confusion diminished as his father read it out, only to be replaced by disbelief and then dismay.
“… delighted to inform you,” his father read, “that the treatment was a complete success … illness in remission … no longer terminal condition …”
As his family exclaimed and embraced, his father babbled in excitement.
“They said the medication had a minimal possibility of success. I almost refused it. It cost all of Jonathan’s inheritance, but he was making so much money selling insurance and with his prospects at university. Oh son, I know it’s a shock, but finally you can start living with the promise of a future.”
