My Father’s House
By: Luc Rinaldi
Thom slowly regained consciousness in a large white hall. He blinked his eyes several times to become accustomed to the bright light. He looked towards his feet, sat up, and slowly scanned the room, unaware of his own situation. It seemed like the lobby of a hotel, or the foyer of a mansion; white marble floors with white-washed walls and railings that led up a flight of stairs heralding a single door. The only part of the room that was not white was the ceiling that Thom had woken up to find himself looking at. It was blue, with painted-on clouds to simulate the sky.
Rising to his feet slowly and tentatively, Thom wiped his pants and shirt out of habit, though there was no use; the floor was perfectly clean, much like the rest of the room. He was alone, with only a large gothic-arched door behind him, and two small doors to either side.
Hesitantly, Thom moved towards one of the smaller doors. He approached and opened it, finding himself now peering down a long, seemingly endless hallway. There was red carpet lining the floor for as far as he could see, and the beige walls with doors on either side didn’t seem to stop either. As he was about to enter the hallway, Thom heard the sound of footsteps behind him, cracking on the marble floor.
As he turned, a voice said, “Good afternoon, Thom... I believe it is.”
Thom now matched the voice to a man, dressed in white, with long, flowing hair. Despite the facial hair the man also had, he appeared clean and healthy.
Thom didn’t respond, but instead let the stranger continue.
“You’re wondering who I am,” the man stated factually, “everyone does.”
“What?” Thom uttered, confused.
“Don’t worry, just follow me.”
The man passed Thom and began to walk down the hall that he had been staring down. Initially, Thom stood still, but the man looked back at him, signalled him to follow, and so he did.
“What’s going on?” Thom inquired.
“This is my father’s house,” he said innocently.
“And where is your father?”
“He’s busy... he gets a lot of visitors,” the man explained.
“So where are you taking me?”
“To your room,” the man said, turning back to look at Thom, persistently trailing behind by a half-step.
Thom stayed silent for a minute, following the man down the hall. After a long while and passing hundreds of door with still no end in sight, Thom spoke again.
“What is this? Some kind of messed up dream?”
“Look Thom,” the man said as he stopped and turned to face him, seemingly frustrated, “this is whatever you want it to be.”
After a quick moment, the man turned again and began to walk. Thom again followed behind, now wondering about what he had said.
“Okay,” Thom began again, “let’s just start again. I’m sorry I made you mad.”
“I’m not mad,” the man said, now smiling.
“Good,” Thom replied, “so what’s your name?”
“Most don’t ask my name. They’d usually rather know why they’re here or where their room is or something trivial,” he explained, “Besides, I’m merely a servant.”
“So... all these rooms, they have people in them?”
“Something like that.”
“But no one’s in the hall?” Thom noticed.
“Once you’re in your room, you don’t come out. You won’t want to, trust me.”
“What’s so great in there?”
“I can’t really tell you,” he responded, “since I don’t know.”
“Of course you don’t,” he replied, settling for the fact that he wouldn’t get a straight answer; the man had danced around every other, “So what do you want to talk about?”
“Whatever you want to talk about.”
“How about sports,” Thom questioned, “You watch sports?”
“I suppose I do,” the man smirked.
“Hockey?”
“Yeah.”
“Soccer?”
“Yeah.”
“Baseball?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s good, any favourite teams?”
“Not really. I kind of like them all,” the man replied.
“Alright. How about music?” Thom now asked.
“What about it?”
“What do you listen to?”
“What do you think?” the man asked back turning to look at Thom momentarily.
“Everything,” Thom answered.
“Pretty much.”
“Well then,” Thom paused, searching for another topic, “this is a pretty big house. Where’s your room?”
“I don’t really have one. I’m always up and about with people like you.”
“What about the doors in the front? Where do they go?”
“The one at the top of the stairs,” the man explained, “is where my dad does all of his work. And the front door doesn’t really open. It’s just for show. We decided it would be un-homely, if not a little claustrophobic, if there was no front door.”
“I guess.”
“Most people go straight for the doors, but I can usually convince them to come with me. And for the odd case, the ones who decide they’re making a run for it, they’ll make it to the doors just to find they won’t open. It’s actually quite amusing. You’re one of the more cooperative ones Thom.”
“Thanks,” Thom replied, interpreting the comment as a compliment.
“Most people start complaining slightly after the fourth door.”
“So, I guess I have a question for you then. How you deal with all these people? I mean, it seems like there are a lot of people in here, and only one of you, but here you are, happily taking me to my room. I’m probably the millionth person you’ve dealt with.”
“Well, I try my best. Besides, you’re special.”
“You seem to appreciate me. Who am I to be special? I’m sure a lot of people are much nicer... much better than me,” Thom confessed.
“Who are you not to be special?”
Thom stopped speaking for a moment.
The man interrupted the silence by stopping, turning, and announcing their arrival.
“We’re here.”
“So what now?” Thom asked.
“Well, I’m going to recite my routine speech, and then you’ll go in. That’s it.”
“Okay.”
The man pulled out a small card from his pocket and read it aloud.
“Dear insert name here,” he said, then looked up at Thom, and back down again, “Dear Thomas,” he quickly scribbled onto the card, “we were pleased to accommodate you in your stay at our house, please enjoy our future chosen specifically for you. Signed, Big G & Little J.”
He handed the card to Thom.
“I don’t understand,” Thom protested, “my stay isn’t over yet. We’ve just reached my room.”
“Yes, it is,” the man said as he leaned in towards the door and grabbed the handle.
He turned and pushed, and the door swung open.
Thom saw a scenic green park, a familiar sight. It was a park he had gone to often as a child.
“So this is my room?” Thom asked.
“Yep.”
“I think I get it.”
“I don’t think that you do,” the man reassured.
“You don’t think I remember the last thing before this place? The hospital bed.”
“I know whatever you know, don’t you worry about that Thom,” the man replied.
“So what is this... heaven? My favourite place from my childhood?”
“No, this is the whole world... not just the park. We just decided it’d be a nice place to start again.”
Thom began to walk through the doorway, intrigued by the park he had not seen for years.
“So this is it?” Thom asked, with his back to the man and his head up looking to the open sky.
“Yep,” he said as he reached for the handle once again, “You know, Thom, it’s interesting,” he stated, pointing with his other hand to a mother and child by a swing set on the opposite side of the park, “No matter how little they value their own lives, much less the lives of others, the only thing they ever wish for is to never die.”
He paused, but Thom did not reply, nor turn.
“So when they do, I send them back. It’s not the same of course, but they wouldn’t know that. That’s their heaven.”
The man began to close the door.
“Well at least now you’ll enjoy life, or at least appreciate it.”
At the sound of the door shutting, Thom turned, only to find himself looking at the back entrance to an old worn-down apartment building.
