Chapter 4 of 5

Chapter 4: A Shadow Speaks

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Among the crowd, in the middle of the chaos, they walked with a light heart, tapping people's heads left and right. After the fireworks they had a few beers and ate farturas. House's leg, due to stress, had been hurting for some time, despite the Vicodin. Wilson was in a good mood, euphoric even. House didn't want for the pain to bother his friend, so he hadn't slowed down his pace.

They had wandered through a good part of Porto's downtown when they arrived at the big avenue where House had been earlier that evening. Everything was heads, arms, legs. Bodies in motion.

House noticed several people, hand in hand, dancing and running, like a serpent in a sea of people. He knew what this human chain was: a rusga. He had wanted to go in one of them when he was a kid but his mother hadn't let him.

The rusga moved in the opposite direction of the rest of the crowd. Sometimes it would slow down, looking for a gap to cut its way through. By chance, it stopped for a moment near the two men.

House had an idea. He approached one of the people that were on the rusga, a young girl with a nice smile. Wilson saw him say something to her but, because of the noise, he couldn't discern what it was, only that some words were in Portuguese. He saw House point the cane in his direction. The girl nodded and smiled. His senses went on red alert. But he didn't have time to do anything. She grabbed his hand tightly, an opening in the crowd appeared and the rusga got into motion dragging him with it.

"Hey, hey… House… help…," he still managed to shout before being engulfed by the multitude.

"Surprise!" yelled House. With a smile, he watched Wilson being carried away ever farther until he could be seen no more.

Then, pushing through the amalgam of people, House crossed the avenue and, slowly, started to climb one of the streets parallel to his hotel. He sensed the city moving around him like a single body, a single mind, a single soul. Thousands melted into one. The city engulfed him like a blanket. It was good to be lost in its bosom. As a boy, he had been fascinated by this sentiment, the feeling of belonging to something bigger than himself. That's what he wished to relive by returning to Porto. He had wanted to forget himself for a while. He had yearned to be a child again.

The area where he wandered was old, full of multiple streets that crossed one another. Narrow and long and dark streets. He took one of the most obscure. It was almost deserted apart from a few groups of people. As time passed, House noticed he was walking increasingly alone. The city's sounds came to him from afar. He moved with ease. He had taken two Vicodin and the pain had subsided a little.

It was a badly lit street. The lamps, standing far apart, cast a dim and soft light. It seemed as if he was entering a dream. Suddenly, in front of him, he saw a shadow that stood out from the surrounding darkness. It appeared to be a human figure. He couldn't see its features but it seemed the shadow was looking at him, as if waiting for him. House stopped, turned around. The street was empty. He couldn't hear the noise from the party. Silence enshrouded him. He faced the figure and waited for it to move. But the shadow just stood there. Something wasn't right. He gripped his cane tighter. It was a weapon and he knew how to use it. This thought comforted him. Then he felt like an idiot. That person was probably harmless. Maybe it wasn't even a person. Maybe it was the dark playing tricks on him. He squinted to better perceive the shadow's outline. It continued to resemble a human being. He noticed shapes that resembled shoulders and a head. "But why doesn't it move? Why is it so still?" he thought.

Any other person, in those circumstances, would have turned around and gotten out of there. But he was not any other person. He moved forward with determination. When he was closer to the shadow, he stopped. Its features were still indistinct but he was certain now that it was a man. Yes, without a doubt. A man.

All of a sudden, his blood froze. He knew who the man was. And, for the first time, House felt fear.

"Who are you?" he asked finally and his voice did not tremble.

"You know who I am," answered the shadow with a hollow voice.

"You're dead."

"So are you."

"You're a hallucination."

"No."

"A ghost? I don't believe in ghosts."

"Then you have nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm not afraid."

"Of course not, Greg."

House thought about running away, but he felt very tired. Besides, to run away from a shadow? Even that one? Especially that one? No.

"Why are you here,… father?"

"I ask you the same question. Why did you come to this city?"

"I was happy here once."

"You can't go back to the places you were happy, Greg. You should know that."

"There was a time when I thought you were a great man. I was proud of you. I was proud of being your son. Afterwards I discovered that all was a lie. You were a small man thinking himself big. From that moment on you stopped being the same to me. On that Saint John's night, more than forty years ago, I still believed in you. The last night I believed in you."

"You are like me."

"No, I'm not. You're not my father and I'm not your son. I don't have a father. I'm my own creation. I'm free from you. I don't know why you appear to me now."

"Free? You're not free from me. Not completely. You still have something to tell me, isn't that so? That's why you've been thinking about the past. That's why you returned to Porto."

House didn't answer. The shadow continued.

"On that night, in the warehouse. The night you decided to die. The night you decided to reinvent yourself. Why didn't I appear to you? Why didn't you call for me? Why did you spend your entire life proving that you were right?"

Silence.

"Why did you spend your entire life wishing for me to say you were right?"

Silence.

"And you still say you're free from me." The shadow laughed and his laughter sounded odious to House's ears.

"I don't know. I don't know the answer to those questions."

"There are no answers. And if there are no answers why talk about it?' Your words, remember? You don't know because you never asked. If you want truly to be free you have to pass through me."

House hesitated and at last he said:

"Why, father? Why the abuse, the lack of love?"

"Why the rebelliousness?"

"I wanted for you to recognize me as a person with his own identity, his own dreams, his own worldview. Which were different from yours. I always wished to be a doctor, never a soldier. My convictions were directed to save lives, to find out the truth. If I abuse my power…" House stopped. Something had dawned on him. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am like you. Maybe I'm as little as you. I felt little many times. After the infarction, I changed. So completely that it's hard for me to say who I was before. From that moment on, I was lost often. I thought I had found myself only to be lost again. From you, above all else, I wanted respect. But you never gave me any. When I discovered your weakness, your pettiness and mediocrity, I swore to be what you weren't. I swore to be more. I see now that, after all, you were always my compass, my mirror. I don't know why I hated you all these years."

The shadow stood in silence for what seemed to be a long time. Then, it spoke:

"Son, I was wrong. You were right. You're not like me. You're bigger than me, bigger than I ever dreamt of being. That's what I couldn't forgive you. Live and free me."

And as quickly as it appeared, it went away and House found himself alone again.