From the Edge
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(From The Edge begins where Shaolin Easter Ends)
"Pop, you here?"
It was early morning and Peter came into his father's rooms. The light shined bright from the restored window leading out to the terrace. Peter spotted his father watering his herbs.
"Peter, good morning. What brings you here so early." Without turning around, Kwai Chang Caine had addressed his son.
Peter was no longer surprised at the way his father could sense his presence without seeing him.
"I brought you something. You might call it an anniversary gift but this time I picked it out myself."
Peter held up a basket wrapped with an orange ribbon. Kwai Chang at first was reluctant to take it.
"It's okay. There's no bomb in it. I checked it out carefully before they wrapped it."
Kwai Chang took the basket and proceeded to open it. Inside were a selection of teas, two new teacups, and a chocolate yin and yang symbol, one side being white, the other dark.
"I couldn't remember if you liked chocolate but the store owner assured me that it wouldn't hurt to try. Besides, it's the thought that counts right?"
Kwai Chang did not say a word but took in the gift with pride and joy.
"Uh, one more thing, Happy Easter."
Caine smiled at his son, then reached up and tapped him lightly on the chin.
"Hey, I almost forgot. We've been invited over for Easter dinner. Mom is cooking up a ham. We're expected around 1:00 PM."
"Peter, you know I do not eat meat."
"I know, but it's a special occasion and I'm sure Mom won't mind. And well, with Paul gone . . ."
"I understand. I would be honored to join your Mother and sisters for dinner."
"Great," Peter looked at his watch and saw that it was only around 10:30. He knew his mother and sisters were going to the Unitarian Church that morning for the service and it would not be over until 11:30. In the mean time, he had nothing pressing to do. He wasn't into going to church because of his own background, but neither was he up to going to a Buddhist temple and trying to sit and meditate on the connection of the universe. So, Peter did what he naturally did when he had nothing to occupy his time, he started pacing the length of the balcony.
Sensing that Peter was restless, Caine tried to occupy his son's mind. He felt this was a good time as any to find out what had happened nearly six years ago. His own curious nature would not let him rest when Peter had mentioned last year that he had nearly succumbed to the addiction of morphine. The circumstances of that time had forced Caine to remember an event that had happened to him during that time as well. It was what caused him to turn away from the path he had been following at that time and to seek out the troubled soul that seemed to cry out to him from beyond the grave. What transpired during that time could be described as miraculous. Because the soul that he sought out over that year turned out to be his own son.
"My son, tell me about the time when you became addicted to morphine."
"You really don't want to here about that."
"Please, I want to know all that happened when we were apart those 15 years. I promise I will try and tell you more of my own journey."
Peter grew silent for a moment. "I . . . I don't know if I can talk about it."
"I do not understand."
"It was one of the worst parts of my life."
Caine could sense Peter's distress as the memories rose to the surface. Here was an area of pain and torment that Caine had not been aware of because he had not been there for his son. Why Peter had chosen to hide it from Caine was unclear. Then Caine sensed the feelings of deep shame rise to the surface. Shame? Why should Peter feel shame?
"Please, tell me."
"Pop, I . . . I don't know if I can. I . . . I wa . . . wa . . . was making a joke when I said that last year." Peter stuttered, but his words held no confidence. He always stuttered when he was lying, especially to himself and when there was deep pain that needed to be dealt with.
"Peter," Caine cupped his hand over Peter's left cheek. "Please."
Peter swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and a single tear trailed down his cheek to rest upon his father's hand. As his father brushed it away, Peter let his head drop to his father's shoulder. His body shook with more unspent emotions. Perhaps it was time to let go of this burden that he had hung onto for so long. He only hoped his father would forgive him when he was done.
End of Prologue
Alisa Joaquin & Linda Schwartz Copyright@2000.
This story cannot be reprinted or sold in any other form without strict permission from
the author. It is being distributed here solely for your enjoyment.
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