Title: Prohemium [CD]
Featuring: Brian Postal
Date: January 1, 2011
Location: Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Brian knelt down in the familiar darkness, the comforting moan of the wood beneath his knees brought him back 10 years in an instant. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. With only the slightest quiver in his voice Brian uttered those unused, yet unforgotten, words from his youth.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been 10 years since my last confession."

A strong, gentle voice wafted in from the other side of the grille.

"Go on, my son."

Brian felt at ease. It had been so long since he felt at ease, even for a moment. But there was something intangible about being in the presence of an old friend that reminded Brian of simpler times. It was an unmistakable voice. With tears beginning to well in his eyes Brian fumbled out his uncertain query.

"F-F-Father Peter?"

"Yes." It was a rare occasion when the penitent attempted to confirm the identity of his minister. "Do I know you, my son?" Father Peter asked, looking through the grille, but seeing only the shadow of a face in the darkness of the confessional. The voice was recognizable, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"In another life you did, Father."

Brian closed his eyes and he could hear the crackle of the loose gravel under his feet as he ran through the school yard at St. Andrews. He spotted Father Peter and ran into his chest as he sternly looked down at a group of 6th graders chasing a young Brian across the campus.

"All of you, report to the school office, now." Father Peter demanded with a low, calm voice that commanded respect. He took note of each boy in the crowd before turning his attention to Brian. "Now, what’s happened here, Brian?"

"I don’t know! They just started chasing me and…"

"That’s enough." Father Peter shut Brian down in mid-sentence and held his shoulders at arms length, staring him directly in the eye. "I will not help you if you lie to me, Brian. I can’t." The Priest stopped to allow the point to sink-in. "No matter what you do, all can be forgiven, by myself, and by the Lord, but you need to be honest. Neither of us are fools and He cannot be tricked, Brian."

The Father paused, for what seemed like an eternity to Brian who wanted nothing more than to break eye-contact, but he was strangely compelled.

"Now, son, tell me what happened." Father Peter had the kindest eyes, but they could pierce you like a sword. As Brian’s deep-blues maintained contact with Father Peter’s clover-greens he ‘fessed up.

"I punched Alex in the face ‘cause he scored on me and was showing off. I know I’m supposed to turn the other cheek, but I couldn’t!" Brian stated with a confident defiance, anticipating the Father’s response.

"What do you want to be in this life, Brian?"

Brian, baffled by the question simply stood there as a cold October wind brought the cloud-cover nearer. Peter smiled at him and said, "Brian, you can’t control others, but you are always in charge of you. You are only 11, you have your entire life ahead of you and the decisions you make now will set up every decision you make from this day forward. The homeless who live in a bottle in Queen Street’s alleyways didn’t wake up one day and head for the gutter, Brian. It was one small decision, that lead to another and to another. You need to make good decisions, Brian. Can you do that?"

Brian wanted nothing more than to yell in the stubborn Priest’s face that he didn’t know what he was talking about - but he couldn’t because Father Peter did know what he was talking about, and that horrible truth only made young Brian more frustrated.

"But…" Brian attempted to retort even though there was nothing to say… so, ultimately, he remained silent.

"I know the truth hurts, but confronting the way things really are is the only way to change them. Brian, I think you have a lot of potential and I want you to succeed. I want to be here for you. Come and talk to me when you want help, okay?"

"I need help, Father."

"Well that’s my business, son. Tell me what you’ve done."

Brian thought about it, but the anonymity of the confessional left a suddenly bitter taste in his mouth. He felt like a coward - the abominable feeling overwhelmed him abruptly.

"Father?"

"Yes, my son?"

"When is your shift in this confessional done?"

"I’m here for two more hours, why?"

"Can you meet me at the Tim’s on Kipling afterward?"

"I suppose so, my son. How will I know who to look for?" The Father asked, still certain he knew the voice coming from the other side of the confession booth.

"I think you’ll just know, Father. And thanks."

With that Brian stood up and the kneeler groaned out a sigh of relief. He cracked the curtain of the confessional and the light came flooding in. Father Peter tried to catch a glimpse of Brian's face, but he could only see Brian’s back. He settled back into his chair as he slid the door to the confession chamber closed.

"He’s troubled, Lord," Father Peter started, "Help me to know what to say, what to do."

At that moment the phrase ‘one small decision, that lead to another and to another’ came to his mind and he stood up from his chair and whipped open the door to the confessional, but Brian was long gone by this point. Father Peter fell back into his chair and the door automatically closed in front of him. The Priest covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. He’d hoped this day would come. Father Peter took his hand from his mouth and slid open the door to the other confessional chamber.

A female voice came from the other side, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned."
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