{"id":1034,"date":"2017-11-10T01:15:36","date_gmt":"2017-11-10T01:15:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.freedomshillprimer.com\/institute\/?p=1034"},"modified":"2021-02-24T22:02:49","modified_gmt":"2021-02-24T22:02:49","slug":"learning-to-forgive","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.freedomshillprimer.com\/institute\/2017\/11\/10\/learning-to-forgive\/","title":{"rendered":"Learning to Forgive"},"content":{"rendered":"

Marc Ridge, Guest Contributor<\/h2>\n

This is the author’s sequel to his earlier story<\/a>.<\/h5>\n

Growing up semi-poor in southern Indiana in the 1960s wasn\u2019t so bad. My friends and I spent our time collecting empty soda bottles for money, or pulling our rickety mower around the neighborhood cutting grass for five-dollars a yard. When we were older, we cleaned out stalls at the county horse barns where our parents boarded our horses, and helped the men during the summer bailing and stacking hay.<\/p>\n

Back then twenty-dollars bought a lot more than it does today.<\/p>\n

I only had two close friends growing up: Jase and Michael. Michael was an only child of one of the town\u2019s wealthiest families and Jase was one of six children whose father was the town drunk. My family was somewhere in the middle, not exactly poor, but not as well off as Michael\u2019s. Two things brought the three of us together: Our love for horses and adventure. We certainly were not mindful of our actions, as perhaps we should have been, but never did any of us get into any serious trouble. I once asked Michael how it was that we never landed in the middle of snakes as we swung on the vines in the woods, dropping off from ten or more feet in the air into the bushes below. His answer was somewhat cryptic: \u201cI don\u2019t know, man. Maybe we all have some supernatural forces looking out for us.\u201d Then I saw his eyes twinkle, and not for the first time my blood froze beneath his steady gaze.<\/p>\n

In the years following the time the government took our classmate Lloyd away from his mother, my friends and I began spending time with one of the girls from that same class.<\/p>\n

Jenna had been sent home from school because the nurse had found lice in her hair. Although some of the other kids in the class made fun of her and Lloyd, I thought she was pretty in a modest way. By eighth grade I started dating her, informally, and we continued our relationship on and off until graduating from high school.<\/p>\n

After high school, my friends and I found ourselves going in different directions. Michael headed to the west coast for college someplace in Washington state, Jenna moved to New York City for a fresh start, and I took classes at a college in the deep south. Jase stayed in Noble, Indiana, where he eventually became a well-known building contractor.<\/p>\n

For nearly twenty-seven years, we saw little of each other\u2014none of us spoke about Lloyd or Jenna. Both seemed to disappear from our knowledge.<\/p>\n

Then came the news of Jase\u2019s death.<\/p>\n

I spent the evening before Jase\u2019s funeral with Michael and Jenna at Michael\u2019s parent\u2019s house where we ate pizza, drank beer, and sang old songs honoring the memory of our long-time childhood friend.\u00a0 Early in the morning, around four or so, after the friendly neighborhood police came by to share a beer and remind us to keep the noise to a low roar, I drove Jenna to the mortuary to pick up her car.\u00a0 We sat in my GTX\u2014the same one I bought from Michael after his girlfriend Caitlyn died back in 1969\u2014and for a time we talked about our lives, and our one-time love for each other.\u00a0 Although she\u2019d aged well, there was a sadness in her tired eyes that I could not reach or understand.\u00a0 Perhaps it was because of dreams deferred or lost, or forgotten.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 In a way, I still had feelings for her I dared not expose, because we were both married.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, did you find her?\u201d\u00a0 she asked as we stood beside her rental car, holding hands and trying to part, but neither of us wishing to go.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho?\u201d\u00a0 I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour one true love, of course, silly.\u201d\u00a0 I still loved the way she tilted her head back to laugh.\u00a0 How many times had I kissed her neck, still strong and firm?\u00a0 I almost kissed her then.<\/p>\n

I simply told her that I was married to a wonderful woman, and that yes, we were very much in love with each other.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s good.\u201d\u00a0 She lowered her eyes, not even hiding the tears.\u00a0 \u201cI will miss Jase.\u00a0 He used to write to me when no one else did.\u00a0 His letters helped me through a lot of tough times.\u00a0 He even sent me some money one time when I was about to lose my apartment\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

All we could do was hold each other.\u00a0 Life had once again made its way from the end back to the beginning.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re always on my mind, no matter who I\u2019m seeing,\u201d she said, giving me a kiss on the lips that I could not return. \u201cI guess a girl never forgets her first love.\u00a0 But, you always did seem to be\u2026someplace else.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her last words cut me like an accusation.\u00a0 The only girl who had ever been on my mind was Sabon.\u00a0 And always will be.\u00a0 I think Jenna had known that all along.<\/p>\n

\u201cGuess I\u2019ll see you at the funeral then.\u201d She slid into her car and drove slowly away as I stood stiff legged watching.<\/p>\n

It was early, and I was in no mood to go back to my parent\u2019s home where I\u2019d sleep in my old room, tossing and turning on the bed remembering, so I decided to drive over to the Steer Restaurant and have breakfast.<\/p>\n

I walked into the restaurant and took a seat at the counter where my dad and I used to sit while he flirted with the waitresses.\u00a0 A pretty, if not sad, Becky placed a cup of coffee before me.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey you. Sorry to hear about Jase. He did a lot of good things for Noble.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHi Becky,\u201d I said, \u201cHow are you these days?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, the usual, married, four kids, a husband who drinks too much\u2026.\u201d She tried to smile, brushing back her bushy red hair going gray. \u201cI\u2019ve read your books.\u201d There were tears in her eyes as she said, \u201cSo much has changed.\u201d<\/p>\n

I flipped through my tattered notebook.\u00a0 I\u2019ve written a lot of stories over the years, the first one way back in sixth grade. Even so, something odd tugged at the back of my mind as if saying, \u201cYou\u2019re not finished with Noble yet<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

When I went to visit Cassandra the day before, she\u2019d told me Michael was in town. I asked her how she knew.\u00a0 \u201cI felt his presence when he arrived.\u201d Then she looked at me with those deeply knowledgeable brown eyes and said, \u201cSoon, it will be time to reveal what has been hidden in shadow too long, but not yet. I see you at your cabin near a lake, a broken bond that should not be broken. Three visitors\u2026\u201d then she stopped and raised an eyebrow, \u201cone friend and two strangers, but one of them<\/em>, not<\/em> a stranger.\u201d I can\u2019t be sure, but I thought I saw a hint of a smile on her lips.<\/p>\n

Cassandra was still spooky.<\/p>\n

Becky brought me a western omelet with a side of crisp hash browns. As I ate, my thoughts began churning with memories. Jase\u2019s death brought all our childhood memories rushing to the surface like a dam bursting from high explosives. In one moment, I was in kindergarten, the theater, Sugar Creek Cemetery, in the GTX racing Michael in his T-Bird and Jase in his Roadrunner down back roads, galloping horses and jumping downed trees, holding Jenna as Jase screamed while holding Tippy, and watching in horror as Caitlyn\u2026.<\/p>\n

\u201cJenna said you might be here.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned around.\u00a0 Behind me, with his hands in his pockets and a look of depressed happiness on his face, was someone I didn\u2019t know, but who looked familiar.\u00a0 In a far corner, another waitress with bushy brown hair stopped in mid-motion as she wiped a table, turned and winked at me.\u00a0 Before I could step off my stool and confront her, she disappeared rapidly into the back.\u00a0 The man touched me on the arm gently to get my attention.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease.\u00a0 I need a few moments of your time.\u00a0 May I join you?\u201d<\/p>\n

He stuck out his hand and said pleasantly, \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u00a0 Lloyd Johnson, we attended sixth grade together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLloyd?\u201d\u00a0 I gazed into his eyes with sudden recognition.\u00a0 \u201cOf course, yes, I remember you.\u00a0 Have a seat.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lloyd, dressed in a gray Armani suit, took the stool next to me.\u00a0 He didn\u2019t say anything for a few minutes, then looked up, staring like he used to in class, into the mirror behind the counter.<\/p>\n

\u201cI love Jenna more than anyone else I\u2019ve ever known.\u00a0 She insisted we come to Jase\u2019s funeral, even though I knew what that would mean.\u201d\u00a0 He closed his eyes and said tiredly, \u201cMichael\u2019s here, isn\u2019t he?\u201d<\/p>\n

I raised an eyebrow.\u00a0 Lloyd smiled, and said, \u201cIt\u2019s okay, I\u2019m not going to make any trouble.\u00a0 I love Jenna too much.\u00a0 I know that what happens will only be out of her love for him, and you and Jase.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lloyd suddenly seemed like Cassandra\u2014that is, spooky. But I let him talk without interruption. I could always tell when someone had a story, and I knew his would be important. I reached inside my jacket pocket and deftly switched on the micro-recorder I always carried. I didn\u2019t want to \u2018bug\u2019 Lloyd like this was Watergate or something. But I felt Lloyd was about to reveal something important for all of us. I wanted a record for later.<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing is more important than true love.\u00a0 I\u2019m sure you would agree.\u201d\u00a0 He sipped his coffee.\u00a0 \u201cMy parents, at least my father, never understood that. At least, I don\u2019t think he did.\u201d<\/p>\n

As he talked, a faraway look came over his features and I could tell he was in the past.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was in fourth grade when they split up. It was messy. My mother, god rest her weary soul, was a saint. She walked me to school every day, brought me my lunch and sat with me as I ate, never speaking, just watching me eat my tuna sandwich and smiling. After school, we\u2019d walk to the park near our house on Capus Street in Indianapolis and watch as I\u2019d swing or play kickball with my friends from school. Then we\u2019d walk home holding hands, and she\u2019d give me two cookies and a large glass of cold milk.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy father was a heavy drinker.\u00a0 He often came home drunk, and accused my mother of carrying on affairs with other men. He was forty and she was barely twenty-four. Whenever they fought, I hid under my sheets, and cried and prayed for him to stop hitting her. They lived in a small town in Kentucky, called Liberty, and got married when she was fourteen after he got her pregnant. Soon after their marriage, they moved to Indy to start fresh. However, my Dad\u2014may he be forgiven\u2014didn\u2019t trust her because she was young. He asserted his authority by beating her. How she stood it for so long, I\u2019ll never know.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne night, he came home and started yelling at her like always, and slapping her face, calling her a slut. Well, somehow, I found my courage and grabbed my baseball bat. I hit him hard in the leg, but he spun around, took the bat away from me and broke my arm. As I lay on the flooring crying and bleeding, my mother hit him over the head with a lamp.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere was a lot of screaming going on, and I was sure the neighbors must have heard.\u00a0 How he stayed on his feet, I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 He wrestled my mother to the floor and began beating her. The front door was open. My mother fought her way free and ran outside screaming. I guess the police officer who arrived with his partner must have been a rookie, because when he saw my father chasing my mother with the baseball bat he shot him. They took us to the hospital and after a few days released us.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom started drinking a lot. After the divorce, money was getting tight. My father was in jail and couldn\u2019t pay child support or alimony. By the end of fifth grade, we lost our house and we moved here. She took a job working the swing shift here and would sometimes bring strange men home with her. I\u2019d pretend to be asleep, and after they went into the bedroom, I\u2019d go outside and sit on the stoop or walk around downtown. I figured she was getting lonely. She was always talking about how we didn\u2019t have any money, cursing my father for everything, even her drinking. Sometimes, I\u2019d pour her liquor down the sink, but she\u2019d find out and hit me. The next day, she\u2019d apologize saying she wasn\u2019t in control of her actions and she\u2019d never hit me again. I wanted to run away, but I loved my mother too much and she\u2019d already been through so much pain. So I stayed.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne night, Sheriff Brown found me and warned my mother that if things didn\u2019t change that I\u2019d be taken away from her. The rest you know. I found my mother a year ago. She was in prison again and sick from breast cancer. She was so thin and frail, so I didn\u2019t recognize her. She died in my arms in the prison infirmary.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know what to say.\u00a0 However, I did wonder what all the talk about his parents, enlightening as it was, had to do with myself, Michael or Jenna.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you see,\u201d he continued, \u201cthat\u2019s why I understand Jenna so well. In some ways, she is like my mother used to be.\u201d He sipped his coffee, staring into the mirror.\u00a0 \u201cI love her. She\u2019s my one true love. Jealousy destroyed my parents and our family. I refuse to let it ruin mine. That\u2019s why I\u2019m leaving after the funeral, and Jen is staying on a few days. She needs to get something out of her system. After that, I\u2019ll have my wife back, and our lives will be better.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was stunned.\u00a0 Any other man would be furious, but Lloyd, knowing his wife might be unfaithful, still had faith in her.\u00a0 Seeing my confusion, he laughed. Lloyd tossed five dollars on the counter and smiled at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cJen is really a remarkable woman, but until she lets go of the past, she\u2019ll never be truly, free.\u201d\u00a0 Without waiting for my reply, Lloyd walked away.<\/p>\n

I paid Becky for my meal, leaving a five-dollar tip, and took a long drive. Everything in town looked smaller. After visiting the Sugar Creek Cemetery and placing flowers on Caitlyn and Tippy\u2019s graves, I cruised over to the Noble Slums and parked on the side of the street. The duplexes had been refurbished, but basically looked the same. I walked around Crescent and Francis streets, stopping in front of our old houses, and a sign that read, Jason Hoag Building & Remodeling<\/em>, remembering.<\/p>\n

In the summer, the Mister Frosty Ice Cream truck, a big blue and white van with a curly vanilla cream cone on top, would cruise the neighborhoods. Michael, Jase, and I\u2014along with the other kids in the neighborhood\u2014would buy ice cream sandwiches, or popsicles that dripped cherry and banana flavors onto our hands making them sticky. We would sit on the curb, eating ice cream, joking, and feeling like we\u2019d never grow old.<\/p>\n

As I stood on the corner of our streets, my hands in my pockets and the wind blowing my hair, I heard the voice of a child yelling, \u201cDang it, Michael, Jase, wait up will ya!\u201d Spinning around, I thought someone, or some<\/em> thing, punched me in the arm, and I heard a voice in a sharp Kentucky accent say, \u201cYo, man, wake up!\u201d<\/p>\n

Turning again I heard the roar of dual exhaust and saw two cars\u2014one a metallic green GTX and the other a black Roadrunner\u2014careen around the corner and disappear in the distance.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey mister,\u201d a tiny voice across the street yelled, \u201cyou lost?\u201d<\/p>\n

Yes<\/em>, I thought, smiling and waving to a kid in worn out blue jeans, dirty sneakers and a mangy blue muscle shirt, his long unkempt brown hair blowing, and smiling with partially rotten teeth.\u00a0 The kid waved back.\u00a0 Then turned and walked towards the back yard of one of the duplexes.<\/p>\n

I walked back down the street, got into the GTX, and drove away.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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