15
They tried to get him to talk beyond just saying, “I’m sorry.”
But he found he couldn’t.
Just like how he suddenly couldn’t feel their emotions or hear their thoughts or sense his dad’s presence.
Maybe it had all been one Even Bigger Lie. Maybe he’d been telling himself this Even Bigger Lie ever since Friday, since he’d learned—or thought he’d learned—about their Big Lie.
Maybe
he’d been the one making it all up.
Jon curled up in his mom’s arms, completely exhausted and numb. His grandma covered them both with a heavy blanket, and some of the warmth slowly returned to his hands and feet. And his mom continued to rock them slowly back and forth, murmuring to him quietly, her cheek pressed up against the top of his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice shaking. “I’m sorry. I…”
His mom sniffled and shook her head. “No, sweetie. I’m sorry. You tried to tell me something. You tried to tell me you needed to stay home today, and I should have listened. I know that sometimes…” She paused, and her arms tightened around him. “…sometimes things can get overwhelming, and…you’ve had a whole lot going on this last week. And I should have listened.”
He couldn’t argue with her there. He really had had a lot going on the last week, although she didn’t know exactly what all that was. And now…now seemed like a good time to tell her the truth.
He snuggled up against her more, sucking in a deep breath, and then he opened up his mind and reached out, focusing with all of his concentration.
A heart racing. Then relief and love.
<<God, kiddo, there you are. I lost you for a bit. Are you safe? Are you okay? Only… God, only seven minutes, pal. I’m… I can see the farm. I can see it.>>Tears came to his eyes, and he started crying again.
<<I’m…inside. With Mom. And…and Grandma and Grandpa. S-seven minutes?>>
<<Six minutes, twenty-nine seconds until landing.>>“He’s almost here. He’s almost here, Mom.” He opened his eyes and leaned back to look up at her. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “He says…” Jon paused and looked across the room to where his grandparents sat at the table. He felt another rush of emotion from his dad. “He says he can see the farm now. He says he’s…”
<<Five minutes, forty-five seconds.>> “…he’s almost here.”
Jon buried his head back into his mom and cried again, clinging to her, his arms wrapping up and around her neck. He felt her confusion, and when she spoke, he could tell she chose her words carefully.
“And when you say, ‘he,’ you mean…?”
“D-dad,” Jon blurted out. “I mean Dad. I can hear him. His voice in my head. Just like…”
“Just like you could hear us thinking?” His grandma’s soft voice rose from across the room, and Jon lifted up his head again and nodded.
“Martha, what are you talking about?” his mother asked, her arms still holding him tightly as she shifted them a bit on the couch.
And then all the voices did that thing again where they swirled around him, everything becoming indistinct. He heard his grandma’s voice, but he only managed to catch some of the words. Something about eggs and superhearing. And something about his grandpa’s illness. Then his grandpa’s voice saying something about telepathy and about Jon being half-Kryptonian.
But he stopped trying to make sense of it, stopped trying to pay attention. Because at that moment, he heard a quiet sound from outside—the creak of the top step on the front porch—and he felt a now-familiar presence surrounding him with love and hope and anticipation.
He sat upright, startling his mom, and his eyes shot to the front door.
The knock was quiet, hesitant almost. But it was…real. It was real and tangible and he’d heard it.
He’d really heard it.
Without waiting for anyone else to move first, he leapt up out of his mom’s arms, covered the distance to the door in only a few strides, and reached out to yank the door open.
Sunlight and warmth burst into the room, and in front of him, just on the other side of the threshold, stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and kind eyes, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt.
All of the air rushed out of his lungs, and tears began falling down his cheeks as the man knelt down to Jon’s level. And then, blinking back tears, the man said in a trembling voice, “Hey, kiddo. I made it. Sorry it took so long. I—”
Jon lunged forward into his father’s arms and was instantly enveloped in the best hug he’d ever had. The best hug ever.
“You’re here, and you’re real. You’re really real,” Jon mumbled.
“I promised you I was,” his dad said quietly, and a gentle kiss pressed against the top of his head. Then, with a long sigh, his father stood, lifting Jon with strong arms, and more overwhelming emotions—not just his dad’s—flooded him.
Jon soon felt himself surrounded by his family—his mom and grandma and grandpa all joining in for a big group hug. And there were tears. Lots of tears. And murmurs of, “I love you.” And lots of, “I’m so sorry,” mostly from his dad, followed quickly by more tears.
Finally, Jon pulled back a bit, and he shook his head as his eyes met his dad’s, an intense wave of wonder and love and regret filling him.
“Jon, I’m—”
<<We saved a slice of pie for you.>> The interruption seemed to surprise his dad, but only briefly. Then a small smile formed on his dad’s lips, and the older man chuckled.
<<The apple pie? I was…I was just joking, you know.>>“Well, but it’s your favorite, right?”
And a single tear slid down his dad’s cheek as he nodded, closed his eyes, and pulled Jon back in for another hug.
<<It is my favorite. Thank you, kiddo.>>Jon shook his head and held onto his dad tighter, fully intending to never let him go. And as they walked together over to the kitchen table and his grandma hurried to get the rest of the apple pie out of the fridge, Jon closed his eyes again.
<<Thank you, Dad. Thank you for being real.>> The End.
