The Saturday Boy Novel (Chap. 13 - end)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – A NEW BEGINNING

 

 

I READ that time has a way of healing all things. It's been a while since my dad left, actually a few months.

 

Mom has been so good to me lately. So has my grandfather. He took me aside often and gave me a fatherly hug.

 

Was he sorry for me, or something? So I asked grandpa "Why?"

 

"Because I feel badly for you," he answered. "Because my son loved you so much and couldn't express it properly. He could only show how much he cared for you by spending time with you."

 

"Yes," I said. "And then he went away." There was no bitterness in my voice. It was simply hard for me to understand.

 

"I don't understand either," he said reading my thoughts.

 

I always thought adults were so sure of themselves. Maybe I am growing up. Maybe they’re really scared as I used to be.

 

I'm not. Not anymore.

 

Grandfather began to spend more time with me. And we even traveled to the same places my dad took me.

 

Then I would share all the information I could remember. Sometimes grandfather had tears in his eyes.

 

It seemed so long ago dad left.

 

There were times I would sit quietly at the table with my grandfather and mom. They watched me closely. Not like I was a bug or something. More like adult wolves watching and guarding their young one so nothing further would hurt me. I felt like Mowgli, protected by the wolf pack.

 

I could sense their fear. What would become of me? Would I change? Was I angry? Yes, I sure was.

 

Who wouldn't be, if your dad...who was your pal just disappeared into thin air? Where was Toronto anyways? Would I ever go there? Would he ever want to see me again?

 

Those were many questions for a young fellow. Yes, my birthday came and went and no dad. Not even a card.

 

But I’m sure he was thinking of me. This feeling inside said so.

 

Mom and I took up where we left off. Sometimes I felt selfish, but she knew my moods. She was able to see how much I needed her even though I was unable to properly express myself.

 

She didn't treat me like a child, anymore.

 

Good ole mom. What would I have done without her? She kept my spirits up during the weeks that followed dad's disappearing act.

 

Good meals. Good company. Goodnight hugs and even stories. She worked so hard to get me to laugh again. It took time.

 

But it worked.

 

And my grandpa was also very kind. I realized how lonely he had become over the years, missing my grandma who died. I had taken him for granted too much.

 

Here he was using up all his valuable energy to walk and hike with me. And the cool weather didn't help his aches and pains.

 

I think he has arthritis, too.

 

I remember my birthday. It was really a very quiet day. Mom felt only a special group of adults who cared for me should be invited.

 

That is, at least until my spirits began to soar again.

 

It was really strange.

 

Only adults. Now what kind of a young person's birthday only has adults? Imagine, even my teacher Mrs. Simmons came. And I used to think she was such a grouch.

 

Mom and my grandfather were there too.

 

There was a nice present from each one. And the cake was great. We ate tasty deer steak. Dad said it was called venison.

 

Grandfather shot the deer back of his farm.

 

Mom cooked it.

 

The balloons helped cheer me up. And I agreed I wasn't really ready for any friends being here shouting and carrying on.

 

Mom was right. I needed time to work things out.

 

I still look out my bedroom window and pretend dad is coming one of these Saturdays.

 

It's as if a tremendous weight is being released from my shoulders when I fantasize. Even though I know in my heart it isn't possible. I still feel something special is going to happen one of these days. And it became stronger.

 

That instinct was still there a few days later. Could it be my father was going to contact me? Or visit?

 

The tension began to build in my system as the hours sped by.

 

My grandfather called Friday night and asked if I wanted to go for a drive. Mom was coming too. It all seemed mysterious.

 

We headed out to Portapique, past those white houses in Great Village. Past cows that munched quietly by the side of the road. Then past Bass River, up the gravel road heading into the hills.

 

Where dad used to take me.

 

Something was up. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. On the way mom and grandfather kept saying things like, "You're a smart young man." And "Do you still love your dad?"

 

The last one would have been a tough one if I were asked a few months ago. But now I could easily answer, "Yes, I do."

 

It didn't hurt anymore to say, "I still love my dad." Looking at each other they smiled. I didn't know what was going on.

 

We went up the last hill on the way to Economy Lake. The steep climb was easy for the car but then we stopped, got out and looked back.

 

The sun was heading for a long snooze. And a few early stars winked at us. A bold breeze welcomed me.

 

Cobequid Bay spread out far below at our feet. Snow sprinkled the ground. There was a large expanse of water with several wooded valleys between us.

 

I knew Spruce and Poplar grew tall along the ridges.

 

"And wild game is in abundance," interrupted my grandfather. "The trees and animals go on forever. It's part of life's plan," he said.

 

"Seasons come and go. Nature adapts. Never forget that Jason," he said. "Life goes on and so must you."

 

"My dad likes to call me Jay," I said almost defiantly.

 

Later this night as I lay in bed grandpa’s words ring clearly in my head. “No matter what happens, there's still tomorrow.” Yes, it's so true.

 

Memories and good times go on forever too.

 

I got up from my bed and walked across the floor, my body outline white in the darkened room. My cold feet pattered across the floor.

 

I gazed out the window as if I was an owl surveying the world from my comfortable perch. The sky is overcast and late lights from nearby houses show other people are still up too.

 

It is almost midnight. I can see the large numbers glowing as my alarm clock ticks loudly. I count off the seconds and watch the second hand move towards its final destination.

 

Moving so slowly it finally lands on number twelve. It is now midnight.

 

Then one second after midnight.

 

And now it is Saturday.

 

Today dad would normally be coming to get me. My nightmares of a few months ago had been replaced by fantasy. Did I really expect dad was coming today? "No." The realization finally hit me.

 

That one word swept swiftly from my lips. "No." The sound made a loud statement in the privacy of my room.

 

It was as if dad and I were paddling furiously in the canoe. And I was the stern man, in control of our movements.

 

Mom is sound asleep across the hall. And grandfather too, only a few miles away, in his home.

 

Something important is taking place in my room. The air feels electrified. Chills leap across my back. And it isn’t the December wind tearing around outside my window.

 

I turn my desk light on, picking up a pen and stationary. I know I have finally grown up. Sitting here alone in my room makes me keenly aware I am surrounded by love.

 

Not just from mom and grandpa, but from dad too.

 

I am in a protective cocoon and it is time to burst out. To stop feeling sorry for myself is most important right now.

 

Memories from many trips with my dad wash over me. Good memories. Lasting memories.

 

I forgive him. Finally. My jaw clenches and my fists are like iron. Pent up anger and hostility leave my insides. I relax.

 

It’s up to me to follow the proper trail. And I need to put a match to the firewood, to create new warmth. To turn on a light switch that shows Jason or Jay has finally reached his proper destination.

 

I look around the silent room feeling good and knowing I am not alone anymore. Mom is with me, and grandpa, even my father...my dad. We remain a family.

 

I reach for my teddy bear. It is a link of love. Dad told me one Saturday he had given it to me years ago.

 

I put it back on the shelf, along with other good memories.

 

And I know I have taken the first big step into becoming a man.

 

Not like dad, but like Jason…

 

My bareback feels warm as I begin to write- 

 

“Dear Dad,

Are you ever coming back? I really miss you.”

 

Esther & Richard Provencher (c) 2010-2021