Natalie 2

Hahaha, sargsause,
Thank thee very much for the feedback!

This is all a part of a sub plot mini-story arc taking place in bits of part 3 of a part 4 book, so hopefully by the time readers get here, they will have integrated into their psyches both Anton’s approach to the world, and Natalie’s.

But dude, thanks for all the punches in the face, I mean, the editing and proofreading contributions, the switched on TV, the willpower stuff. Perhaps I would have caught them themselves come the time for the final edit, but perhaps not, perhaps I would’ve been too in love with them.

…You leave the hand-spinning out of this. That’s called whimsical style boy, style I say. (But how can we trust someone with style when they call the middle finger the index finger, JR?) By willpower boy, willpower I say!
Haha, anyway, thanx again.

Today Natalie should have come to work, but didn’t show up, and doesn’t pick up her phone.

Anton’s stomach immediately wrapped itself into a small tight knot

thought Anton, remembering Jane’s demise.

Anton stood up in agitation.

A quick succession of nightmare scenarios galloped through his head, before he managed to shut them out with an effort of will.

he could hear the faraway murmur of a switched on TV

“It’s me, Anton, Natalie, open up, it’s me, dad!”

He heard locks unlocking and latches being unlatched

"I’m sorry you were bothered dad,"

“So what happened?” he said, “why didn’t you go to work?

Anton suppressed him smile of affection

He leaned towards her, propping an elbow on the table, “and I think...

"and I think I can tell you why you didn’t go to work today. You stayed at home, because you couldn’t take the pressure of the outside world. You have gone to pieces, you have no strength left, no defenses, and you simply can’t handle going out through that door.”

He underlined everything he said with small thumps of index and forefinger on the edge of the table, except the door, which he indicated with an incline of his head and a swerving of his eyes.

A board loose in the fence of denial.

“And since you can’t go through that door, and since you are days or maybe hours away from being in a hospital, I, as your father,” he illustrated himself with a thumb, “am taking you,” a forefinger quickly stabbed into her direction, “for two-three days out in the open. Somewhere out of town.”

the thin wretch that was his child.

“Forget the elections for now. What do you think? That you will stay at home today, and tomorrow will be magically better?” His daughter was on the verge of tears, but he knew that he shouldn’t let up. “Even if you do accumulate a minimum of strength in the night and do force yourself tomorrow to go to work - what will that achieve? You will not be capable of doing anything. You will be a hindrance, not a help.”

“I thought I’d go to a doctor,” half sobbed the thin wretch that was his child.

“Yes, but you won’t listen to a doctor who will tell you to take a break, will you? I bet you mean the other kind of doctor, who will give you a pill to make the fear go away. But the problem is not the fear. The fear is a signal that something is wrong.” He was gesticulating with his smoking cigarette, hissing through his teeth as if in anger. His anger was of course directed at himself, for not noticing where things had been going with his only daughter, for again having allowed himself to not see what he did not want to see, but it sounded to Natalie like he was admonishing her for her own stupidity.

“Your job is not to suppress this danger signal,” he hissed, “your job is to act upon it, to fix that which has been broken. And not later - right now.”

Natalie didn’t answer but turned away as if to look at the window. She was silently crying, biting her lips, her right hand clutching her left elbow. She looked like she was ten again.

Anton had broken through. He ran a damp hand through his hair and allowed himself to relax a little. Now he could afford some kindness and a hint of ego boosting here and there. “Now,” he said kindly, “I know that you are a very responsible girl, and I am proud of you. But you must remember, that your first responsibility is to yourself and to your family, and that’s me.” He let that sink in before continuing, “no one else cares about you enough to be able to see facts. Instead, they prefer to see what suits them. This is how people function. Even if you are an inch away from dying, they will keep using you, and when you snap and fall on the floor, they will all act surprised.”

A memory resurfaced, a painful memory. A painful memory before, now - a tool. “I knew a girl once, and she was diagnosed with cancer. Yet instead of retreating and concentrating on herself, she continued going to work, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary was happening. And no one told her to get a clue, to just go home, sleep, meditate, eat honey, watch favorite cartoons, do anything to try to get the body back into life mode. No, everyone said ‘what spirit!’, ‘what will!’, ‘keep fighting,’ all that bullshit... and then she died, in only two months. And everyone acted surprised. So, damn surprised.”

He got up, circled the table and hugged his daughter’s shoulders, cradling her head in his hands. “When the body is depleted and the mind is in shambles, my dearest daughter, you must forget all the social posing. Right now other people’s compliments, expectations, demands - they don’t mean a thing. They have, at this point in time, lost any meaning, and continuing to cling to them is self-destructive. You must concentrate on retrieving yourself back from the brink. And when you have achieved that, when your body and mind are in good working order again, then you will return back to your social obligations and you will be as excellent as always.”

tried to bury her face even deeper into his palms.