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August 05 Jonathan's EmancipationNow, this is the storyline of the drama which I used to participate in the Inter-School Drama Competition this year. Though my school was disqualified due to the presence of a suicidal scene, I still love the story. It has depth, the characters have poise and plausibility; it is a quiet-in-action, conversational, insightful, and professional drama, and it needs good acotrs to pull off. I personall think that my teammates did okay, because at least we got the emotions of the characters right. It's just that this drama is too silent to grab people's attention, unless you caught the beginning of it at the first place.
No harm done. I'm sharing the short-novelised version of the drama here, but any other schools or people that find this piece interesting and wish to use this for their competitions or other personal gains, plese drop me the news, because I need to know, and I can help in further explaining and describing the nature and personality of each of the characters too--after all I co-wrote the original drama script with a friend.
It's a little dark and intense; beware. Incidentally, this drama is a slight adaptationfrom a famous author's bestseller. Let's start it now.
‘Okay, I understand. Yes… I know. I—I’ll call you back.’ And Jonathan hung up. He quickly put the wireless phone down on the low living room table, wrinkling the tablecloth by accident, then hastily smoothed it out, trying to create a scene that looked as if he never touched the house phone.
Too late. His father, Paul, caught him talking on the phone. ‘What’s going on?’
‘N—nothing,’ Jonathan lied hesitantly, despite him trying his best to sound casual. Of course, his father did not buy the lie. He merely hung his hands on his hips, and looked at Jonathan with a stern look. He knew Jonathan would feel guilty.
‘I…I got myself a lawyer.’ Jonathan finally spilt.
So the fact was confirmed. Actually, Paul had long been suspecting Jonathan doing something behind his back, particularly asking someone for help or some sort. Later he had guessed that Jonathan was calling a lawyer through the formal terms he sometimes uttered, probably learnt from the lawyer. Now it was all clear. ‘Evidently,’ he said, picking up the phone on the low coffee table on which it was placed, then handing it towards Jonathan. ‘Now get rid of him.’ It sounded like an order.
Jonathan was timidly rubbing his hands together when the phone was held to his face. He knew he couldn’t wind his way out of this, so he chose to take the only feasible option: talk. ‘I don’t want to do it anymore.’
He expected his father to yell at him, but surprisingly, he did not. Instead, he sighed and sat down beside him. ‘Jon, neither do I. In fact, neither does Jason. But it’s not like we have a choice. ‘
I know, if only Jason understood that, Jonathan wanted to say. But he couldn’t betray his chronically ill brother. No, he couldn’t afford betraying him. It’d cost a life. However, he also couldn’t let himself speak now, because if he did, he wasn’t sure if he could keep his promise to his brother. He had to leave; otherwise words might just spill out of his mouth. So he stood up, and started towards his room. But his father’s angry words held him on his tracks.
‘You went to a lawyer and made him think it’s all about you—but it’s not. It’s about us. All of us!’ Now Paul stood up too. ‘Do you even realize what the consequences would be?’
Jonathan walked back up to his dad, and mustered all the courage he could get. ‘Dad, I can’t do that anymore. I don’t want to donate my bone marrows anymore. And don’t even think about my kidneys.’ The next thing he felt was his father’s hand heavily landed on his cheek. It hurt, but Jonathan couldn’t blame his father. He was the one being held in the dark.
***
Paul sat at the defendant’s seat at the courtroom, beside his lawyer, Gurmit. His son sat far beside him at another desk, with another lawyer of his own. Both the lawyers were ruffling with papers on their respectively desks, probably getting ready for the trial. Jonathan’s efforts paid off: Paul was now officially sued—by his own son. What has gotten into this kid? He wondered. What’s happening to my family? If it’s still counted as one, that is.
He had always been the loving father. He always tried, at least. But life was being hard on him. At first, he and his wife, Martha, were happily building a family. They had their first child, Jason—who was diagnosed with severe leukemia at birth. That was when the problems began. The poor boy could die any minute without constant blood transfers. And the disease never got better, only worse. Soon he needed bone marrow implants, and it was hard to find donors. He needed a steady cure. And they found it: by having another child—a designer baby. It was Jonathan. Jonathan was specially designed to have the same DNA traits as Jason, so that all of his organs can be donated to Jason when he needed them. He was the live cure for Jason.
But that didn’t mean Paul didn’t love him as much as Jason. After all, Jonathan was his son. He’d still love him if he wasn’t a cure, and just a normal, regular child. Martha would’ve loved him too, he thought reminiscently, if she was alive. His wife died giving birth to Jonathan. No, he shook his head, Martha loves him. She just can’t be here with him. He unthinkingly turned to look at Jonathan. He was fidgeting in his seat, looking uncomfortable.
There was the question: If he loved Jonathan so much, was he being fair to him? Jonathan didn’t have to go through all those dreadful medical procedures with Jason. He shouldn’t have to, but he was made to do so. That was the best way to save Jason. Was Paul being a good or bad parent using a son to save the life of another?
Probably bad, Paul mused. Otherwise, why would Jonathan sue me? To be emancipated from me? But Jonathan looked uneasy in his seat. He looked almost as if he didn’t want to do what he was doing. But why was he suing his father when he didn’t want to? What’s the reason behind all this?
Paul saw Jonathan a little startled when his lawyer, Sulaiman, suddenly stood up. So was he, when Gurmit stood up too. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize the judge was entering the courtroom. He quickly followed Gurmit’s action when he realized everyone in the room had stood up. The judge was walking fast to his seat.
‘Alright,’ Judge Choo said as he laid his hands on the desk lightly, when he finally arrived at his seat. ‘This is a family court. I want everything to be as painless as possible.’
***
Painless. How could that be achieved at a family court? People that settled the ordeals between them here had bonds between them, mostly strong ones. How could bonds that almost seeped into hearts, connecting them, be stripped apart without inflicting pain?
How can I do this? Jonathan cogitated. More importantly, how can I let Dad suffer through this? He almost didn’t recognize himself.
‘Your Honour,’ Sulaiman said, standing firmly. ‘I would like to call upon our witness, Dr. Ong.’ Dr. Ong walked in and sat at the witness’s seat after Judge Choo approved Sulaiman’s request. Dr. Ong was the one that designed Jonathan, and he was the doctor in charge of Jason’s case.
‘Dr. Ong,’ Sulaiman began. ‘In your expert opinion, do you think it’s ethnically right for Jonathan Chan—‘ he gestured towards Jonathan ‘—to have been asked to donate his bone marrows repeatedly for twelve years?’
‘Well, I was against it at first,’ Dr. Ong replied with a contemplative look. ‘I didn’t believe Jason would’ve lived through the transplants, and therefore Jonathan would have undergone the operations repeatedly for no reason. But I feel that the procedures for bone marrow transplants are small and, so, I supported the choice Paul made for Jonathan. ‘
If only the surgery worked the first time, Jonathan thought in frustration. If only it worked, then none of this would have to happen; then Jason would be healthy, and happy, and out of the sickening hospital; then we would have so much fun together; then… And Jonathan was lost in his thoughts imagining what would happen if one of the bone marrow transplants worked. Then he cut himself out of the thoughts; reality check: none of them succeeded. He tried to re-focus on current happenings in the courtroom. He had no idea how long he had been spacing out.
‘Your Honour,’ Sulaiman was saying. ‘This case is not just about donating kidneys, skin cells, blood cells or ropes of DNA. It is about a boy who is on the cusp of becoming someone; a boy who may not know what he wants now, or what he is right now, but who deserves to be given the chance to find out.’ He was stressing the last line. Then he gestured at Jonathan. ‘And ten years from now, in my opinion, he is going to be a successful individual, if given that chance.’
‘I think Mr. Paul Chan is a strong-willed person.’ He said as he slowly but firmly paced towards Paul. Then he turned to the judge once more. ‘He was asked to do the impossible as we all can see. And if we, like Mr. Paul Chan here—‘ he slightly extended his arm to Paul’s direction ‘—don’t know what the right decision is, then the person who has the final say is the person to whom the body belongs.’ He looked at Jonathan with sympathetic eyes. ‘Even though he’s just a thirteen-year-old.’
Jonathan squirmed a little more in his seat. He didn’t like people throwing that look at him. But he had to bear with it, because he knew with perfect sense that Sulaiman only helped him out of sympathy. ‘I have nothing further, Your Honour.’ He heard Sulaiman said before rejoining him at the seats.
‘Yes, Your Honour,’ Gurmit said, standing up, after Judge Choo nodded at his direction, indicating he may start his speech. He cleared his throat before he began, ‘In this country, we have a long legal history of allowing parents to make decisions for their children. It’s part of what the courts have always found to be the constitutional right to privacy.’ He was subconsciously walking a circle in front of the judge while he spoke. ‘And given all the evidence the court has heard, I think it is right to say that Jonathan is not ready for his body’s emancipation. He is just thirteen,’ Gurmit emphasized, ‘I repeat, thirteen, and I doubt he even knows what he wants now.’
He walked towards Jonathan, brows furrowing ferociously. Jonathan twisted in his chair. ‘Does he want his brother to die?’ He slapped a hand on Jonathan’s desk, making Jonathan jump. ‘Or his brother to live?’
Sulaiman absolutely saw Jonathan’s discomfort, and he took action. ‘Objection: the defendant attorney is affecting the plaintiff’s emotions.’
The judge accepted the objection. Luckily Gurmit also had nothing else to say. He sure wants to win this, Jonathan thought, still recovering from Gurmit’s sudden outrage.
Judge Choo spoke instead. ‘I don’t think any of us is qualified to decide which of the two is more important, Jason or Jonathan Chan.’ He looked from Gurmit to Sulaiman. ‘But as both the attorneys have pointed out, this case is no longer about Jonathan and his kidneys or body cells; it is about how the decisions of whether or not to donate them get made and how we decide who should make them.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I will take a fifteen-minute break before deciding that crucial decision.’
***
Jonathan sat at his desk in his room, hands slipped through his hair, pulling it. But he didn’t seem to feel the pain. He just got back from the court. Sulaiman was with him in his room, but they didn’t speak. Jonathan looked as if a sword would shoot out of his mouth if he opened it. Sulaiman saw that, so he wasn’t encouraging him to talk. But he broke the silence anyway.
‘So, you won the case,’ Sulaiman said, pointing out the obvious.
Jonathan didn’t feel like replying. He didn’t know if he could answer to that statement. Answering to it meant accepting the fact that he really did win the case, and he really didn’t want to accept that. But what good would denial do? It would just prove him being a typical kid. But he wasn’t a typical kid, not anymore. Which ordinary kid would sue their parent? As if that wasn’t enough, he has to win it? He scorned himself. That would be me.
‘Yeah, I know,’ Jonathan mumbled. He didn’t want to be rude, in spite of himself.
‘How do you feel now?’ Sulaiman asked in a softer voice.
‘I don’t know. It shouldn’t have turned out like that.’ Only the second half of that was true. Yes, he didn’t expect to win, and it’s not just because Gurmit was so outrageous at debating for his father. He thought it would just be a regular juvenile delinquency type of case which parents always won. But he won. And that was a big deal. Now he didn’t know if he should feel guilty, and if he was, what the reason should be. Should he feel guilty because he sued and won his own father? Or should he feel guilty because he was not going to help Jason anymore?
‘Jason’s going to die without me.’ The words slipped passed his mouth. He envisioned himself living happily while Jason struggled in the hospital. ‘I’m so selfish,’ he blurted out.
He pictured his father holding Jason’s hand, trying to comfort his brother, then turning around to look at him with eyes that looked like they could stab him. More words came out of his mouth without his control. ‘Dad must be disappointed with me.’ After that, in his mind, he saw himself with no one by his side anymore, and his face crinkled involuntarily. ‘God! Why did I even do this at the first place?’
He imagined his father saying ‘selfish’ with his eyes while pushing Jason into the emergency room. ‘I don’t care about all those treatments, as long as Jason lives!’ He exclaimed, as if his father was there to listen. Then he buried his face in his hands, tears erupting with no control.
Sulaiman finally put a hand around his shoulder. ‘Just don’t be too harsh on yourself.’
***
Paul was sulking in the living room, with his hands crossed across his chest, and his lawyer sitting across him. Both parties didn’t speak. Paul was too focused thinking about what would happen to Jason.
‘So,’ Gurmit started, ‘you lost the case.’
A little frustrated at the truth, Paul withdrew himself from his thoughts to answer. ‘Yes, I know. ‘
‘How do you feel now?’ Gurmit asked sincerely.
‘Well,’ Paul took a breath and replied slowly, ‘the boy has got his emancipation now; he doesn’t need to do any of those awful blood transfers.’ He frowned faintly. ‘But now there’s another problem: I have to find a new blood donor for Jason. But I have to say it’s pretty selfish for him to give up on his brother.’
Paul paused, his gaze transfixed on the living room table’s cover. Gurmit only waited, knowing that Paul was thinking.
‘Perhaps I’m the one who’s being selfish. I mean, I’m the one that had him designed to serve this purpose, to suffer for his brother.’ He paused again, then took another breath and continued, eyes still on the tablecloth, as if it was the most interesting thing in the room to watch now. ‘Maybe winning the case is a good thing for Jonathan. I mean, he doesn’t deserve all those torments.’ Paul’s eyes suddenly darted to meet Gurmit’s.
‘Just don’t be too harsh on yourself.’ He only said.
Paul just sighed, and the silence was still once more, until Paul’s cell phone suddenly rang. Despite his thinking the caller had the worst timing, Paul quickly picked it up, without even seeing who called. ‘Hello?’ He said. It was from the hospital. Then his expression changed. ‘What?’ He exclaimed urgently. ‘Jason is hurting? His kidneys are failing?’ He instinctively announced, casting a worried glance at Gurmit. He told the caller he would be at the hospital soon, then turned to Gurmit. ‘I need to run now. Jason is having a problem.’ And he sent Gurmit out.
When Paul got back into the house, Sulaiman was walking to the door, leaving to get Jonathan’s official emancipation file. Not bothering Sulaiman’s short trip to the front door, he hollered towards Jonathan’s room, ‘Jon, your brother is…’ He trailed off mid-sentence, deciding whether or not to tell Jonathan what was happening to Jason, so much so with Sulaiman around. He chose to be vague. ‘…is not feeling so well. Do you want to follow me to the hospital?’
Jonathan didn’t seem to hear Paul from his room. ‘Er…’ Sulaiman quickly began to prevent Paul from yelling again. ‘Jonathan is not feeling so well either. I think you ought to come back for him later.’
‘Okay, that’s a plan,’ Paul rushed, gathering his stuff. ‘I’ll just check on Jason and be back for Jonathan later.’
Sulaiman bade goodbye and left.
***
Jonathan was sobbing in his room. He didn’t know what to do next. He didn’t even know what would happen next. Would all those that he envisioned come true? Would his father hate him forever for what he’s done?
But I didn’t want to do it, Jonathan thought. I’d never do such a thing. But I had to.
And tears burst out even more forcefully from his eyes. His eyes hurt; the crying was tiring him, but he couldn’t stop it. All these emotions were making his head pound. He decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed a solution, and he found it.
Abruptly, he sat up, grabbed a paper and pen from the desk, and started writing. He had to tell it all out to his father. He couldn’t hide things from him; he never could. Tears were blurring his eyesight while he wrote, and when he shed them by blinking, the tears dropped on the letter, wetting the paper, smudging some words. The letter was wet and messy, but it held the hard truth.
After finishing the letter, he meddled with the bunch of stationery set in a cylindrical container on his desk once more, but this time he wasn’t searching for a pen. He found what he wanted: a penknife. Retrieved and holding the penknife, his hand was shaking. But he brought it, with the penknife clutched with all the weak strength he had now, to his wrist. He extended the blade so that its sharp side faced his wrist ominously.
He swallowed. He wasn’t sure if he could really do it to himself. Unthinkingly, his hand, holding the penknife with its blade fully extended, slowly backed away from his wrist. But hurting himself was better than hurting the people he loved, or watching them getting hurt. He shut his eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and ran the blade through his wrist with sheer determination.
***
‘Jonathan, I’ve got the file with me. Now please open up so that I can explain things to you.’ Paul heard Sulaiman yelling, and watched him knocking Jonathan’s room door, when he was back from the hospital. In one of Sulaiman’s hands was Jonathan’s official emancipation file.
‘What’s happening here?’ Paul inquired.
‘Jonathan seems to be locking himself in his room,’ Sulaiman explained with a frown.
‘What?’ Paul exclaimed, walking up to Jonathan’s room and twisting the doorknob as if testifying Sulaiman’s statement. Then he followed Sulaiman’s example and knocked hard on the door. ‘Jonathan, Jason is not doing so well, you ought to check on him in the hospital now.’ That was an understatement. Actually, Jason was in a very bad condition, and he needed Jonathan’s help, both moral and biological, desperately.
‘He must be upset about the case,’ Sulaiman said, crossing his arms across his chest, frowning even more, making his eyebrows too close together.
‘What? I don’t understand.’ Paul uttered in confusion. ‘He won the case; shouldn’t he be happy about it?’
‘Well, he should be, but apparently, he’s not.’
‘What do you mean?’ Paul asked anxiously. What is going on with that boy?
‘He told me that the case shouldn’t have turned out like that.’ Sulaiman blurted out. ‘He looked pretty troubled.’
‘Something is wrong,’ Paul whispered, almost as if talking to himself. He turned back to face Jonathan’s room door, and shouted, ‘Jonathan, now you better open up, or we shall break the door down.’
A moment passed. No response.
‘I’m going in,’ Paul announced. He stepped back, and charged at the door. It broke open and Paul stumbled inside, shocked to see the scene. Dropping all the documents he was holding, Sulaiman, too, was appalled and gasped when he went in.
Jonathan was lying on his desk. Blood was dripping down a corner of the desk, staining the light-coloured floor with complementing red.
‘What has he done to himself?’ Paul cried as he raced to Jonathan and pulled him away from the desk, supporting his lolling head with his forearm. Blood soaked his shirt, and blotted his hands and arms. Paul could see the source was the deeply slashed wrist.
Meanwhile, Sulaiman quickly recovered from his astonishment and grabbed the letter on the desk. The lower corners of it were dirtied with blood, and the writing was a little blur, obviously wetted when they were written, but the letter was still legible. His eyes widened as he read on. ‘Listen to this,’ Sulaiman said after he finished the letter, ‘“I’m not allowed to tell you this, but I only appealed for emancipation because Jason asked me to. Jason wants me to quit suffering for him and let him die, and threatened to harm himself if I didn’t. But I don’t want to. I want all my organs to be donated to him for cure, and I can only do that if I’m dead. I’m sorry, Dad.”’
‘No!’ Paul roared outrageously, and almost hysterically. What was wrong with this kid? How could he do that to himself? Paul shut his eyes tight, willing himself to breathe, as if the anguish he was feeling could suffocate him. You can tell me anything, Jonathan. You can tell me. Paul thought in agony, wanting Jonathan to hear it so badly. Then as if on cue, the phone rang. Its timing couldn’t be anymore worst.
But the call was from the hospital, meaning something must be happening to Jason, most probably something bad. Paul wiped away the tears and nasal mucus that he didn’t know were on his face until just now. With a trembling voice, Paul answered it. ‘H-hello? Y-yes I am.’
Then his face contoured into an expression of alert. The change was so fast that it was like he never showed his pain just now. ‘Jason has just fallen into critical stage?’ He couldn’t help but repeated what the caller said. ‘His other organs are failing?! He’s dying? He needs organ transplants now?’ Paul’s gaze darted from Jonathan to Sulaiman.
Sulaiman’s face was that of a person who had his heart ripped from him alive. But his mind was clear. ‘Paul,’ he called, although Paul was already looking at him. ‘I’m afraid it’s no time for you to mourn over Jonathan’s death, or be indecisive about Jason’s organ transplants now.’ He instructed. ‘Jonathan has sacrificed himself for Jason, and Jason’s life is at stake now!’
Then he made the split-second declaration that could change Jason’s faith and Paul’s life. ‘I, as Jonathan’s lawyer and on the behalf of the emancipated him, approve of his wish in his will, and let his organs be donated to the stated recipient, Jason Chan.’
***
Yes, I asked Jonathan to sue Dad so that he can be emancipated from him. My having to suffer didn’t mean Jonathan has to with me. He could just abandon me, and live his life happily. I didn’t have that, and I wished that for him. But, just like what I wished for him, he wanted the best for me as well—maybe that’s because we share the same genes. So right now, I am the one who is living my life happily instead, but I miss Jonathan a lot. However, I know that wherever he’s gone to, there’ll always be a part of him in me. Well, make that several parts, and I mean it literally.
Thank you, Jonathan, for giving me my life. |
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