― Robert Frost
Time Passages
I don't like to lie to Izzie, but it was only a white lie―I told her I'd be seeing Jake and I'd be home late.
Actually, I was leaving work early on a Friday afternoon and driving into the city―to the University of Toronto, to be precise, to see a man about a dog.
Seeing a man about a dog is a Prohibition Era term meaning to sneak an alcoholic drink but it seemed bitterly ironic because it was what I used to do in my youth and it got me into trouble.
Again, ironically, the solution to the inevitable hangover was to retrieve a hair of the dog that bit you which meant drinking more booze to lessen the effects of the hangover caused by drinking too much in the first place.
Yeah, it's a bitter circle of addiction but I wasn't heading into town to go on a bender but to see the man who delivered me from my youthful compulsions and was also my cure—Father David Breton, my mentor.
I parked in front of a quaint Victorian house on the campus where he had an office on the main floor.
Back in the day, Breton was don of the men's residence and had among other duties the unenviable task of riding herd on a group of unruly students of whom I was the chief offender.
He kept me in line with his wit and wisdom until I dropped out of college when my mother died and got mixed up with Mace Wells and his gang.
It was all downhill from there ending with my landing in prison.
Now I was returning to seek wisdom from the campus guru and maybe to find myself in the process.
I stepped onto the wooden verandah where the two of us had sat drinking tea and watching rainstorms and then walked into his office and stepped back into my past.
Breton had been working at his desk and looked up and broke into the toothy grin I remembered.
"Jase Asher!" he exclaimed, rising to greet me. "You haven't aged a day since I last saw you. Life must be treating you well or you've been sipping on the fountain of youth."
"I'm good, Father," I smiled, hugging him, "I met a girl and I'm in love."
"I'm so happy for you, Jase. That's good news. C'mon and sit down and I'll make us some tea and we'll chat."
I looked around the office that looked the same as it had ten years ago when I last saw it.
"You met a girl and your life has settled down," he called back to me as he put on the tea kettle.
"I was going to ask if you'd marry us," I smiled.
"Congratulations, Jase! Wonderful news, " he smiled. "You have really settled down. I'd be honour to preside over your wedding."
"I have to propose to her first, but I know you can keep a secret and actually I was hoping you could meet her tomorrow night at my place. It's my birthday and she's having a few people over to celebrate."
He handed me the tea. "I'll cancel any other obligations—just email me the details of the time and place and I'll be there."
"That's great, Father—actually, I have another matter I'd like to run by you."
"In that case," he laughed, "we'll bring out the Peak Freans. We used to consume an entire box of cookies during our marathon sessions."
He handed me a platter of assorted cookies. It was all so familiar and I realized how much I missed his guidance.
”You know, if I listened to you in my youth, Father, I could have saved myself a lot of grief.”
“We all have to learn, Jase. It’s not just a case of not having certain information.”
“I’m thankful I had you, and lately, I rely on Jake Dawson, my ex-parole officer who’s become my best friend. He helps steer me straight.”
“You’re in good hands— I know Jake, I taught him and his wife Marnie, a few years before I taught you. How is he doing?”
My jaw dropped. “Small world! Jake’s doing well—he’ll be at the party tomorrow night. You can renew your acquaintance.”
”So what’s amiss in Jase’s world that I can set right?”
“I’ve been having panic attacks, Father, as a result of PTSD. The psychiatrist I saw happened to mention how difficult it might be for me to integrate back into society because of ‘antisocial relationships’ I developed in prison.”
“You’re thinking once a con always a con?”
I nodded. “I don’t want to ruin Izzie’s life.”
He leaned forward in his swivel chair, resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers.
“Have you told Izzie about your past?”
“Most of it, but she knows about my being in prison and accepts it.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“I find I’m rough around the edges. I don’t react like other men. I try to be macho and at times I resort to violence.”
“Are you constantly angry or getting into fights?”
I shake my head. “No, I just have a lot of rage toward the guys who set me up and got me sent to prison. One of them’s been hassling Izz and I’m afraid I’ll lose it on him if he tries anything.”
”Sounds like a normal response to me. You’re not acting on these feelings. If someone attacks you or your family you have a right to defend yourself and those you love, but obviously, you don’t like the way it feels because it reminds you of your past.”
“Exactly!” I say, relieved that he understands.
‘Look Jase, you’re choosing to live in peace—that’s all anyone can do. Try to forgive whenever you can and try to forgive yourself. You’re doing fine.”
He got up and clapped me on the shoulder. That hand on the shoulder was symbolic to me. All the people in my life who were decent human beings at one time or another responded that way to me.
I wasn’t perfect—I was a work in progress, but obviously people saw something in me.
Breton hadn't said more than a few words to me but he listened and thought I was okay.. I felt a burden lifted off my shoulders.
Maybe badassery is redeemable, or at least, not a death sentence for me.