The Space Within
When morning came, Caine woke to the smell of something good and enticing. Before he could climb out of bed, Jason was coming through the door carrying a tray.
"Good, I see that you're awake, I brought you breakfast."
Jason sat the tray in front of Caine. The tray contained a bowl of hot cereal, fruit, a sweet roll, a small glass of juice, and a cup of tea.
"I do not know if I can eat all of this."
"When was the last time you ate?"
Caine looked up at the man. His eyes narrowing from the question. He then shook his head and shrugged one shoulder.
"Well your ribs are beginning to stick out. You need to put some meat on those bones if you are going to survive, so eat up." At that moment, the phone rang. "I'll be right back."
Caine looked at the food one more time after Jason left and his stomach gave out a resounding tiger-like growl. He was hungry he had to admit. And it was going to be a long journey, wherever that journey was going to take him.
Some time during the night Caine had lain awake thinking about what Jason had said. The tale that Jason told sounded much like what he would have done or even his father, helping those in need, working whenever he could, and simply living the life of the wondering Shaolin, as it was meant to live.
Caine had spent 12 years in the temple, raising his son and teaching young monks what it meant to be Shaolin. Some of those monks would go on to receive their brands and leave. Others would remain to teach. Then there were those that came to the temple seeking answers but staying only for a short time. Caine did not expect to become a part of that life. After he had been told that his father had died while searching for another ancient relic, he left the temple in anger, barely finishing his training. He would not return to that life for several years, and only after the death of his wife and persuasive arguments made by the Dalai Lama. He did not regret going back, but now that life was no longer his and his child was dead.
So what did life hold for him? His eyes fell on the old brown pouch and the words that he had said at his son's gravesite. He had said that until he found peace within himself, he could not join his son. And yet, without any thought, he had tried to take his own life. The attempt, however, had been thwarted, as if his destiny was still to be decided. Perhaps there was still a life for him. Perhaps he was meant to walk alone. After all, his father and his grandfather had done it. He knew that some day he would rejoin his son. Perhaps, for now, he would let fate dictate where he would go from here.
Caine's thoughts were once again interrupted when Jason returned with a colorfully wrapped box.
"I almost forgot this. Here, this is for you," Jason stated and handed Caine the package.
Caine gave Jason a puzzled expression.
"It will be Christmas in another month or so, and well, I thought you might like this. I don't have any family that's living. Even my parents have been gone for several years now. It feels good to be given the chance to give someone something. I don't celebrate the holidays that much any more."
Caine removed the wrapping, being careful not to tear the paper. He opened the white box and inside wrapped in tissue were two shirts. One shirt was red and felt like it was made of thick sturdy cotton, the kind of shirt that would be worn in the winter. The second shirt was made of black silk and decorated with a white tiger.
"Your old shirt was badly torn and I had to cut it away from the wound," Jason explained. "And you didn't have another shirt in your belongings so, I thought you could use two."
"I am honored," Caine replied. "The shirts are beautiful."
"Well, better finish your breakfast. I just got a call. Seems I'm going to need to head out to one of the local farms. The storm last night caused some damage to a barn and they need me to examine some horses that got caught in an avalanche of snow."
"May I be of assistance?"
"I'll need to examine that wound of yours first, but sure. I may need some help."
Caine's appetite picked up another notch after that. There was a use for him. Life had given him a second chance. Though his son was gone, that did not mean that life could not continue. And he hoped that one day, that empty space would be filled once again.
End
Alisa Joaquin 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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