Phin’s mother possessed none of the impetuous vivacity that had marked her sister. She lived life by a different set of values. Phin’s emerging adult persona couldn’t thrive under those values. Whatever connection had once existed between mother and infant was lost, just as it had been lost between the sisters as they matured and took different paths.
In Nina, Phin had found someone who bore a similar outward form to the mother he had loved in his baby days combined with someone who understood his adolescent restlessness and his sexual nature. She had given him permission to go with it instead of trying to force him to resist it.
Maybe one day Phin and his parents will reconcile and find a point of peace, as Nina did with her sister and I did with my father. I hope so. There is no hurt more acute than unresolved emotional pain. To find peace we have to be at peace with our origins. We have to learn to judge kindly, not only the forces that shaped us, but also the forces that shaped the people who bore us. It doesn’t mean excusing the wrongs done to us, but it does mean forgiving them and moving on - and there, as Phin would say while rolling his eyes, pontificates a true vicar’s son.
I’m glad I had reconciliation with my father. It lifted a weight from me I hadn’t even realised I was carrying until it was gone. My dad said it had taken him years to realise he had been serving the bricks and mortar of his church and cold doctrine over and above serving God. God loved all his creation, not just a select few.
Phin shifted again, mumbling unhappily in his sleep, speaking my name.
“I’m here, love, sleep. I’ll take care of you. You’re all right now.” I soothed him, stroking his dark brown hair. It needed washing. It was greasy as a result of wearing his crash helmet the day before. At least he’d worn it. I was thankful. In the mood he was in he could easily have left it behind along with his leathers.
I sighed. There was so much pain and sadness behind what had happened today. It led me to question whether it was a situation demanding discipline? What would I be punishing him for? He hadn’t meant to cause injury when he threw the orange out of the car window. There had been no malice aforethought. It was the outcome of poor choices he’d made while under the influence of powerful emotions. Was it right to penalise him for reverting to old mechanisms under extreme stress?
From the moment he ran he was reacting to old impulses. The sad truth about the negative urges that drive us is that they can never be totally eradicated. There’s no magic cure for them. They remain lurking in the background of our personality, waiting for an opportunity to trip us up again.
Phin had not only tripped he’d fallen headlong and he despised himself for doing so. He would cogitate, condemn and crucify himself over and over again for what had happened. Perhaps for that reason alone the situation did demand discipline.
Any physical punishment I meted out would be less harsh than the continuous mental torture he would heap upon himself. Part of the way things work between us is that I bring closure to situations he might drag out indefinitely.
What we all have to learn is that not every trip ends in a fall and even if it does not every fall is a full-scale disaster that can’t be recovered from. The way we move forward is not by agonising over the setback and becoming grid locked by it, but by learning from it and hoping the next time we trip we can catch ourselves before we actually fall.
And there again speaks the vicar’s son. I’ll be following in my father’s footsteps and taking up the cloth next.
I made my decision. It would be wrong to pretend Phin’s actions were somehow defensible because of the emotional forces driving them. It wasn’t a case of there being no other available choices. There had been less reckless alternatives to the decisions he had made. I think he was probably aware of them, but rejected them, because he was determined to prove how angry he was. Actions speak louder than words.
Him going out on his bike without donning protective leathers was a shouted ‘fuck you, Adam’ if ever there was one. He deserved a paddling if not a good caning for that omission alone. All else had followed from that one action.
He then made sure I couldn’t help or intervene in any way by turning off his phone. Meeting up with Andy had been unfortunate. In fact it had been cruel bad luck, but he didn’t have to go back to his place with him. He knows what Andy is like, even if he would prefer not to admit it. The man has never done anything other than fail him.
Andy may have stolen his mobile and wallet, but rather than resorting to car theft, he could and should have called me from a payphone this morning. He had loose change in his jeans. I found it when I undressed him. It turning out to have been Andy’s car he had stolen and wrecked didn’t make any of it right.
Punishment would draw a line under the events of the past few days. It would give him the release he wouldn’t permit himself. It would also help serve as a deterrent should a similar situation arise in the future. It would encourage him to at least try and break the emotional momentum and look for less reckless, and more legal, alternatives.
Kissing the top of Phin’s head, I settled him more comfortably against my side and closed my eyes, listening to the comforting sound of rain pattering afresh against the windowpanes. He would look to me to give him consequences for his actions. It was an expectation I’d allowed him to develop. It was also an essential aspect of our relationship dynamic. I wouldn’t fail him.
In due course, I gently rubbed the portion of his buttock where the injection had been given, I would give him what he deserved and needed.
When punishment is over and done with, we’ll move on with our lives. No matter what else the wind might blow at us we’ll ride it out together.
The End
# Author Website: http://www.fabianblackromance.com/
Burdens & Riding With The Wind Page 7