"… the judge has ruled that acomprehensive psychological examination is necessary to determine if Emil Larsen is fit to stand trial. Larsen is charged with multiple felonies related to his rampage in Oslo's
government quarter, a section of the city which is named for the presence of multiple government buildings.
His attack results in millions of dollars' worth of property damage as well as dozens of dead. He drew attention because as far as authorities have been able to determine, he didn't use any weapons beyond his bare hands."
That made me frown. Was the man on some type of crazy drug? How the hell did he manage to destroy buildings with his bare hands?
"Before the videos of the attack were taken down—they received hundreds of millions of views, showing him perform—what looks to be superhuman feats…"
"Can you turn that off, please?" mom asked.I did it right away. I could hear the tension in her voice. We traveled in silence the rest of the way to our new home. As mom turned the car onto the dirt road which led to the house, I said, "Don't worry, mom. I'll be moved in before dark tonight, and you can access the trust fund tomorrow."
She sighed. "I just don't know what Flynn was thinking. He acted so weird the last few years of his life. He was always talking nonsense but would never see a doctor. I should have done more."
Riri, my pet name for my sister, chimed in, "At least he was rich."
"Don't talk like that about the deceased. We should be respectful," mom snapped, but Riri barely heard her.
When she brought the car to a stop, she said, "You know you don't have to do this. If you want to go off to college, we'll find a way, you just may have to wait a year."
I shook my head. I wasn't going to point out that going away to college wasn't really an option. Debt collectors had scraped my parent's savings apart like scavengers going after roadkill. I could get a job and work if I had to, but tuition prices were steep even for a state school.
Even with my grades landing me a limited scholarship, it wasn't enough to pay room and board. So, I was stuck at home. This home just happened to come with a trust fund, free house, and some peace of mind for my mom.
That was worth a great deal to me.
None of that mattered now. Dreams were easy to have with money. I missed my dad. He would have known what to do. Growing up, he always seemed larger than life.
Cancer robbed him of that strength towards the end, but mom had digital videos of dad and our childhood stored away. A reminder of better days, and to cherish what I had. I'd do whatever it took to take care of mom and Rosy and right now that meant moving my stuff into a garden shed.
I could only shake my head. Life really was stranger than fiction sometimes.
"Eddie, you don't have to…"
"Mom, not this again." I rubbed the back of my neck. "The lawyer was clear. It's no big deal if I move into the shed. I'll still be living at home. It's only a couple hundred feet from the house."
"I just mean…" mom replied, but her words trailed off into silence. I nodded. We both knew what she meant. I appreciated the sentiment.
She wasn't a perfect mom, those kind of women belonged in tv sitcoms and make-believe, but she still wanted to take care of her kids. Dad's death had broken her more than I had initially understood. It was my turn to take care of her, and in homage of dad, this was the easiest way to make it reality.
My dad's last words to me were seared into my mind. Mom had fallen asleep in the chair next to his hospital bed. The stark smell of antiseptic barely covered the stench of death and dying. But dad, he knew what mom was like, and so he took advantage of her sleeping to tell me something he
didn't want her to hear.
I remembered the overhead lights, so white and sterile, and the beeping of the monitors as I leaned over his bed at his gesture. My dad, the man who used to be larger than life wheezed out a few words. "You're the
man of the house now."
I remembered the bitter tears which had formed in my eyes. This was something unfair. His own body turned against him as the cancer ate him alive. It was a battle he couldn't win no matter how many treatments we put him through.
In that moment, his eyes had more light than I'd seen in recent weeks. His skeletal thin hand grasped my arm. "Promise," he managed to growl.
I nodded, but that wasn't good enough. I felt his determination through his remaining strength, as he squeezed my arm. So, I said what any son would say, "I promise."
He hadn't died right that moment, but it was the last time I really saw him aware. He quickly became incoherent after that. The moment of relief I had seen on his face though… That was something else. For just an instant, all his pain had been wiped away, and I felt the burden of his trust settle over me.
Now I was shaking my head. Memories weren't going to change this weird request. But in the end, it was a simple way to take care of my family. I might not have had my father's military mindset, but one thing we both shared in common was, our word was our bond and as good as gold.
I'd to take care of them no matter what.Moving my stuff didn't turn out to be that hard. At least, I hadn't bothered to unpack when we got to the house last night. The only thing I'd really done was crash after the long drive. Moving from Illinois to L.A
seemed like a step backwards, but a necessary sacrifice. Mom would be taken care of and both Rosy and I would get to go to a real university.