IQs 2

IQ2 Hospital

Sometimes you just have to prevail for the sake of prevailing or overcome an obstacle to say you can. Unfortunately, my life can be summed up as prevailing and overcoming. Constantly and it will never stop. I can't say I don't like it, because I do and in some respects it's made me the endearing person I am today. I chuckled aloud hearing myself lie is somehow entertaining. I'm neither endearing or charming. I inherited that primarily from my mother, my father has intelligence like no other. He can function well with or without people, he doesn't lack confidence and he doesn't take no for an answer. A go getter, if you wish and perhaps if I was not so assertive, in the negative aspect I would favor him more. I miss him perniciously until I am blue in the face. The bond we had was strong. I hope he is alive. My father worked at a law firm for the government, doing mediocre tasks that were substantially below is level. He got paid a low wage, he was practically a secretary of a secretary. His job was pointless and I knew that. I knew my father was a man of disguise. He could finish daily tasks in an hour, and since most of the time nobody kept up with his location, he'd be studying. One day I had ventured to the library, once government fund, but no longer, this was not too long ago. I distinctively recall tapping a woman's shoulder peering over at her busy hands pressing keys on an outdated computer. She was in charge of keeping a log of those who came in and out and what they checked out. I had asked her if she'd seen my father before, saying his name as I wrote it on the glass window, now. The woman scrolled through a list that dated and logged everything my father had done here. "He spent an average of thirty six hours here, haven't seen him in years."

I nodded quietly, not wanting to say what had happened. I asked her if there was any way I could have a list of everything my father did here, she seemed slightly exasperated at my question. I urged her, going on and saying why I needed it. She printed it out, three hundred pages later. My arms were numb carrying all this information, I was unaware of how it would help me, but if I were trying to figure my dad out this can't be a bad place to start.

Jake tapped my shoulder, his light touch made me shiver. I currently stared out the window I was hungry for knowledge on my father with nothing but codes and papers left behind. My knees were tucked to my chest and I sat on a bench underneath the frame of the window, watching rain drip slowly on the glass. I kept writing my father's name over and over silently, I guess my brain thought I may not lose him if I remind myself about him. I could hear his rants in my head as a child. He'd come home from "work" another term he used for the cover up where he was really at, the library studying things that only God knows what.

"I just can't believe this bureaucracy, or this society. How can we possibly maintain a thriving state? Oh heavens no not even a thriving state, a poor peasant country that does nothing is more acute. We lack infrastructure, innovation a good sense of decisiveness. Our society cannot be so focused on avarice, it is a shame in itself. Mark my words there will be much chicanery to come."

My mother would sneak around him seductively at the dinner table as my brothers and I watched. My father would be all wound up over his discoveries, with his chair tipped back and using his hands with great expression, he'd share them daily. Most of the time especially when I was young I thought he was crazy, but know I don't agree. My father would stop after my mother would wrap her arms around his neck kissing his cheek and mumbling some words of ease. My father would slip from his educated word into ours. My father told me these things above anyone else, at bed, at breakfast and whenever we were alone. Anytime it was him and I he would pour this knowledge that seem so useful into my brain. Now, I was beginning to access it's importance.

Jake grasped my shoulder and lurched me forward shaking the glassy expression off my face, along with my fingertips on the transparent pane. He slid his hand down my spine, taking a seat on the tiny bench next to me. He stared at my face. His breathing fogged the window, the reaction with the rain outside.