There I was, sitting in a wooden chair outside of the high school principal's office. This in itself wouldn't have been so weird except I was a twenty-three year old man and I hadn't done anything wrong to be sitting here. At least nothing that could be fixed with a visit to the office.

As I looked at the receptionist sitting behind her large oak desk I remembered the one and only time I had been in this same hard chair. Tense and sweating, I had picked at my jeans until there had been a ragged hole in them the size of a quarter. I smiled lightly as I remembered the butterflies in my stomach back then. The fear that all teenage boys have. The fear of being paddled. Luckily for me that hadn't happened.

And yet, I felt somehow guilty, sitting here. I could almost hear the receptionist clucking her tongue at me. Could almost hear her amused voice. "Back again, I see, Trent. What have you done this time?" I imagined her saying. I shook my head to clear it and looked over at her. She had a frown of concentration on her lined face, as she worked at her typing. She wasn't paying any attention to me at all.

So there I sat, where so many teenaged backsides had rested, while their owners waited and worried about their fate. I pulled at the metal buttons on my jean jacket and fidgeted. Why was I having to wait so long? Sean had said he would be ready to go to lunch at noon. It was half past now. After all of these months it still freaked me out that Sean was a school principal. I couldn't imagine it. He was so gentle and kind and not at all like the pricipal was when I attended classes here. I tried to remember the guy's name who was the principal when I was a kid... Mr. Watkins, yeah, that was his name. I shuddered slightly as I remembered how I used to hear the hollow crack of his paddle as I changed classes. It was a horrible sound- like rapid-fire gunshots. And I also remembered how my stomach would clench in fear every time I heard it. I shuddered slightly as I remembered

"Mr. Andrews," I heard the receptionist say as if from a long distance. I looked over at the grey-haired woman with a questioning look on my face.

"Mr. Jones will see you now," she said in an overly officious tone of voice.

I tried to hide my grin as I stood and walked over to the door marked 'Principal's Office'. I turned the knob and stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

Sean sat at his desk, obviously preoccupied with some papers. He smiled brightly when he finally looked up and saw me standing there, however, and waved a hand toward the chair in front of his desk. "I'll be ready to go in just a second," he said as he looked back down at his papers.

"Take your time," I murmered as I relaxed my frame into the offered chair. As I looked around curiously at Sean's office, a tingle began working its way up my spine. The memories, almost physical in nature, began rushing back to me. Memories of being here as a teen and also memories of something recent. Something that made my heart hurt. I could feel the beads of sweat popping out on my forehead, as I realized that it wasn't just chance that I had met Sean for lunch here at his office. No, I had subconsciously planned it this way for a reason.

I began picking at a loose thread on my jeans. "Sean?" I asked tentatively, not really wanting to disturb him but needing to.

"MmHmm?" he replied, still intently reading.

I pulled at the loose thread on my jeans, and felt it begin to unravel. I knew I should let him finish his work but...

"Do you see a lot of kids in here that have misbehaved?" I asked quietly, still pulling at the unravelling thread. A small hole began to appear under my worrying fingers.

He glanced up from his work then. Apparently puzzled at my question. "Well, yeah," he said with a slight laugh, "that's mostly all I do see."

I nodded, moving my hands nervously over the knees of my jeans. He must've noticed my nervousness, because he sounded concerned when he spoke. "Trent, are you OK? You seem kind of tense."

I nodded once again and then raised my head to look at him. "You know," I said, trying to sound conversational, but hearing the tremor in my voice, and knowing I had failed, "I was sent here once when I was a kid."

He smiled at me. "Were you?" he asked, "what for?"

I shrugged, wishing he could read my mind, and wanting him to understand what I really wanted to say. I gave him a pleading look and I noticed him cocking his head slightly as he looked back at me. After a minute he gathered his papers together and put them in his top desk drawer.

"Well, I think the work can wait till later," he said as he stood up. "I bet you're starving. I'm really sorry you had to wait for me." He added.

I stayed seated. "You know," I said in a low tone, "sometimes you can do things that make you feel so bad that you just don't know what to do."

He walked over to me and put his hand gently on my shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly but with obvious concern.

I cleared my throat and looked up at him. "Could you sit back down behind your desk? I..I want to tell you something," I responded gruffly, very close to tears.

He walked back over to his desk and sat down. He looked at me expectantly but didn't say anything.

I felt on the spot then. I wanted to tell him...I wanted to. But, what if it was too much? What if it was so bad and so rotten, my confession, that he told to me leave and never wanted to see me again? What would I do without Sean? And I knew then that this was a bad idea. My guilt belonged to me...forever. Nothing anyone could do would change that.

I stood up quickly, tears blurring my eyes, and feigned an attitude of non-chalance. "Come on," I said, trying to make my voice sound light, "let's go eat." With those words I turned toward the door, but his tone of voice made me stop in my tracks.

"Sit back down, Trent," he said with such authority that I was taken aback. I searched his face for a clue as to the change, but found nothing there but determination. I sat back down.

I watched as he folded his hands into a steeple and then placed the tips of his fingers under his chin. "Now then," he said after a moment, "you have something to tell me, so go ahead. I'm listening."

I took a deep breath and slowly released it. I wanted to tell him of my guilt. It was now or never...I began to talk slowly and barely above a whisper. I told Sean of my father's death and of how I had been planning to visit him the weekend he died. I looked at Sean's face to see if he could tell what I was about to say next, and if he was repulsed. His face was impassive and calm looking.

"Go on," he said matter- of- factly.

I tugged sharply at the unraveled thread on my jeans, hoping it would snap. And I sighed as it did. Wrapping the thread tightly around my finger, I continued. "I...told him that I had made other plans, Sean. I just didn't feel like going to see him."

I looked at Sean then. Though my eyes were glazed with tears of shame and regret, I looked him straight in the eye. "He died that weekend," I said as clearly as I possibly could, "He never got to see me before he died because I was so selfish." I laughed then, a bitter laugh, and gazed deeply into Sean's eyes to see what awaited me there. Surely I would find disgust in those eyes, and it was no more than I deserved. But, to my surprise, there was no disgust, only a clear look of compassion and acceptance.

"I'm so sorry," he said gently.

I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain. "Sean, you haven't been listening!" I said loudly, the tension in my voice threatening to crack into a million pieces. "Didn't you hear me say that I didn't go to see him before he died?" The desperation to be understood made my voice sound high and strange. I swallowed and quickly licked my lips. I had made such an error in judgement telling him about this. He didn't understand what a bad person I was. It had been futile to try to explain it to him.

"Yes, Trent, I HAVE been listening!" he said sharply.

I snapped my head up from where I had begun to pick at another thread, and stared at him. "Well, okay then," I said cooly as I stood up. I looked over at the window, trying to avoid looking at him. 'Oh my god..this was a bad idea.' I thought, feeling a little resentful now.

"Would you please sit back down?" he asked calmly, "I want to talk some more about this."

I shook my head.

"Sit down!" he said tersely.

I glanced at him and chuffed. Then I plopped back down into the chair. "I don't really think I need to talk anymore about it," I said sullenly. I really just wanted to go to lunch now. To just pretend I'd never told him what I had. I felt stupid now and very uncomfortable.

I looked at Sean when I heard him clear his throat, wondering what he was going to say next.

"I know you feel bad about what happened," his voice sounded stilted as if he was trying to pick his words carefully. "But it seems to me that you are being a little tough on yourself."

I sighed. "Well, that's easy for you to say isn't it? You're not the one who can never apologize or make things right. There is not one fucking thing I can do to make things right again!" I nearly shouted these words.

"I wonder," he mused quietly, almost as if talking to himself, "if I can do something to make you feel better?"

"Look," I said, feeling tired now, "I don't need anyone to try and make me feel better."

"So, what DO you need?" he gently questioned.

At his words, I felt something crashing inside of me. Smashing into a million little pieces. What did I need? What did I...need?" My heart pounded as those words zinged through my brain, taunting me. I needed to turn back time. I needed to feel that my whispered words of regret and apology weren't just going into empty air. I needed to believe that somehow I could make things right with my father. but I also knew the things that I needed weren't going to come about. Tears began to slip from my eyes as I looked at my friend and hopelessly shook my head.

Sean sighed heavily and opened a drawer of his desk. As he was looking around for something he asked me a question. "Earlier you said that you were sent to the principal when you went to school here. Tell me what that was about."

I felt a warm, slow flush spreading across my cheeks as he asked me that question. I felt embarrassed. Which was really odd because it had been so many years ago.

"Well, I was late for school twice in the same week and um...Anyway it wasn't any big deal." I suddenly wondered if we were going to lunch today at all.

Sean had a thoughtful look on his face as he looked up at me and then back down. Still rummaging for something. "Were you punished for what you did?" he asked me.

"Nah, I wasn't and I always wondered why." I confided.

"Because you thought you deserved to be punished?" He asked casually as he continued to search his drawer.

"I guess," I said as I picked at the threads on my jeans again, feeling a little uncomfortable. "I mean it seems like such aa litle thing now, after the horrible thing I did. But at the time I felt guilty."

I watched for a minute as Sean continued looking through the drawer. "So what're you looking for"? I finally asked.

"My paddle," he replied with a far off sound in his voice. "I haven't had to use it for a while but I know it's in here somewhere."

"Your paddle?" My voice echoed his own. Was I missing something?

"Ah, here it is," he said as he pulled it from beneath some papers and held it up where I could see it.

I gawked at that paddle. It was scary looking. Long and thick, with holes in it. The tapered end had black electrical tape wrapped around it. It looked like it would hurt a lot. Memories of Mr. Watson's loud whackings came back to me then and I shuddered and swallowed.

"So..." I said as I shifted in my chair nervously, "That's your paddle."

"Mmmhmm," he answered.

I tried to force a laugh, but it came out kind of strangled sounding. "Cool...So you ready to go to lunch?" I asked as my heart pounded.

He nodded and then tapped the paddle on his hand while he looked at me. "In a minute, Trent," he said softly, "but first I want to ask you something and I want you to be honest with me."

I looked at him and then nodded. "Ok, what is it?" I asked feeling more uncomfortable by the minute.

"I know this is a hard question to answer, and I know how hard it is for you to be direct about things," he said slowly, as if measuring every word, "but I get the feeling that you need something from me to help you with your guilt."

I shrugged evasively as I waited for him to ask his question.

He inhaled loudly and then tilted his head toward the paddle. "Is this what you need?" he asked in a matter of fact tone.

"I don't know what I need!" I cried out in a strangled voice. "All I know is that I've done something that is irreversible. Something that is so shameful that I've never told anyone before now." I started to cry softly.

"What if I told you it was ok and that you were forgiven? That I forgive you?" he asked me, his voice barely above a whisper.

I swiped at my eyes. "But, that won't change anything Sean," I said hopelessly. "Can't you see that nothing will change what I did?

At my words Sean stood up. "Well then, we have to try something else don't we? No, we can't change what happened but maybe we can change the way you feel about yourself. Let's see if a punishment will help," he sounded assured now, and I looked at him, my mouth open and beads of sweat popping up on the back of my neck. I brushed my hand back there and noticed that the ends of my hair were starting to curl with the moisture.

"Oh...now listen..." I said and then broke off. He was right. I felt I deserved to be punished, and yet...

Sean stood still and looked at me. Apparantly waiting for me to finish my thoughts.

I felt true distress now. Part of me wanted to get paddled so I could be forgiven. Part of me--the more rational side--knew it wouldn't really absolve me of my guilt. I twisted my fingers as I tried to think about this. And what about Sean? 'He must think that I deserve it,' I thought. Sean thought that I deserved to have pain for what I had done. My stomach clenched at the thought. I felt frozen, like an ice statue. I felt like some outside force was going to have to decide this. Because I just couldn't

"Stand up, young man," Sean said through my haze of indecision.

Slowly, I stood. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and looked directly into his eyes. My mind in turmoil, I waited for his next command.

His eyes seemed to made of steel. They looked like they couldn't be appealed to. He seemed so different now. I guessed it was probably because he knew now what kind of person I was. I wanted to say something. I wanted to help him understand that I wasn't really a bad person. But then I was a bad person wasn't I? My head began to ache as my confusion grew.

"Trent," he said calmly, "walk over to the front of my desk."

I obeyed.

"Now take two steps back and then place your hands, palms down on the desk," he said slowly and clearly.

I looked down at my trainers. Then with my heart pounding in my ears I did what he told me. As I placed my palms on the cool surface of the desk, I looked at him.

He smiled. "That's good, Trent," he reassured, "You're doing good."

I closed my eyes as he walked over with that paddle. When I felt him place a hand on my lower back, I gasped. Fear washed over me as I realized that it was actually going to happen now. Sean was going to paddle me. "Sean, please," I said thickly, trying to keep the panic from my voice.

"Take a deep breath," I heard him say.

I inhaled shakily.

WHACK!!!

The force of the blow made me sway slightly and then I felt the burning pain. At that moment there was nothing else in the world but that pain! "No, Sean!" I yelped out as the paddle landed squarely on the same side of my bottom. That second swat was indescribably painful. Unaware of anything else, I worked through the fiery agony, trying to find my way back from it. "It hurts!" I wailed as I stood up straight. "Hands back on the desk, Trent," Sean ordered.

I shook my head. "No Sean, it hurts," I told him.

"I know," he answered. "It's a punishment. It has to hurt. Now do as I say," the authority in his voice was clear. I had to do what he told me.

Another crack of the paddle echoed through the small office and I whimpered as I fought to stay in position. "I'm sorry!" I wailed out. "I won't do it again!"

There was knock on the door. "Mr. Jones, is everything all right?" It was the secretary. Damn! I should have realized that she would be able to hear this. My head dipped in shame and an involuntary sob escaped my lips.

Sean patted my back as he answered her. "Yes, Ms Alander, everything is fine."

I heard her muffled "Ok" as I stood up and looked at Sean. I felt dizzy as I gazed at him in shame. "She heard," I said miserably.

Sean rubbed my shoulder. "It doesn't matter, Trent," he said gently.

"It does matter," I replied woodenly. "I think I'm going to go home now," I informed him, as I tried desperately to pull myself together.

"Young man! We are not finished here!" Sean said, sounding severe. "Now bend back over the desk."

I shook my head, the tears still slipping from my eyes. Sean was not The Principal anymore. Sean was just Sean now, and I felt very stupid, and my guilt had not been assuaged by those few pops of the paddle. I just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and try to nurse my wounded dignity.

"I'm tired Sean. I just want to go home. This isn't working anyway," I said softly.

Sean had a sad look on his face as he looked into my eyes. he pursed his lips together and I could tell he was trying to think of what to do.

Very gently, paddle still in hand, he reached around and gathered me towards him. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I held him back. Grasping his white dress shirt in my trembling fists, I held on tightly.

"Everything's going to be fine," he whispered. "I still haven't finished with your punishment, though." I looked up into his rich, brown eyes. They were soft and warm, but there was a look of determination there too.

I shook my head in confusion. "Oh Sean, give it up," I said feeling exhausted.

He pulled my head against his shoulder. "Let me help you, he whispered into my ear. Then one arm released its hold on me and I felt the paddle lightly tapping my bottom. At the same time his other arm pulled me even closer to him.

I nodded in acquiescence and tried to relax my body.

I felt his body shift as he raised the paddle and brought it cracking down sharply. I clenched my teeth and tried to twist, but his left arm held me firmly and securely. It was futile to try and move my buttocks out of the way. "Owww." I moaned.

Again he raised the paddle and swatted me with it. The noise and pain were almost too much to bear. I turned my head and lay my ear against his shoulder, hoping it would at least muffle the sound. "Sean..." I sobbed brokenly, "you're hurting me!"

His only response was to rub his left hand gently across my back.

Then he tightened his embrace and continued paddling me. Swat after blazing swat landed on my bejeaned fanny. The heat and pain kept building until I felt I couldn't stand it anymore.

I leaned on Sean as he continued to punish me. I gripped the back of his shirt in my clenched hands. 'Surely,' I thought, when my mind could form words around the pain, 'he'll stop soon!"

But he just continued. Soon I started to cry really loud. As the tears ran down my face, I tried to remember what I was being punished for. When I remembered, I almost felt relief that he was keeping on because I deserved this. I deserved much worse than this actually.

"I'm sorry Dad!" I suddenly wailed.

The cadence of the paddle continued but I heard Sean's voice above the loud cracks.

"It's okay," he said.

My whole world was the pain in my backside. There was nothing else. I felt like I was up in the very top of my head now, Not really aware of the words that were coming out of my mouth.

"I wish I hadn't been so selfish!" I sobbed out.

The rhythm of paddle on flesh continued.

"I want you to hear me Dad! I want you to be able to hear me say I'm sorry!" I screamed out in anguish.

"It's all right," Sean soothed, while he continued to blister me.

I sobbed wretchedly in my pain. Hopelessly trying to make things right, I cried out again. "I didn't know, Dad! I didn't know I'd never see you again!"

It took me a minute to realize that the paddling had stopped. My ass felt like it was literally on fire as Sean held me close.

"It's all right now, Trent," He assured me gently.

Sobbing, I tried to breathe as I gradually became more aware of where I was.

After a while I calmed down and Sean lead back over to the chair in front of his desk. I gingerly sat down, wincing at what I was sure was a very bruised behind.

He handed me a kleenex and then sat down behind his. Opening a drawer and putting the paddle away, he turned back to look at me.

"You know Trent," he said, sounding concerned and thoughtful, "Nobody knows what's going to happen next. We're all just trying to muddle through. You have to try to stop blaming yourself."

I nodded and wiped my eyes with the tissue. "I know, but..."

"Don't you think your dad would understand?" Sean interrupted me gently.

I sighed and shrugged. "There's no way to know, Sean, because I'll never see him again."

Sean gazed at me for a little while, not saying anything. His silence was somehow comforting though, because he seemed to understand.

"Did it help?" he finally asked, And I knew he meant the punishment.

I nodded slowly. "I don't think that my guilt is gone, because I don't think it's that simple to be forgiven." I gave Sean a watery smile. "The thing is I don't think the forgiveness I need is ever going to come. Dad was the only one who could've offered it...and he's gone."

My eyes filled with tears again at my words. "But, I tried didn't I?"

I looked into Sean's eyes seeking reassurance that I had tried to pay for my sins.

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "Oh yeah, Trent. I don't think you could've tried any harder to say you were sorry," he looked sad as he looked at me.

I felt bad then. I felt that he probably thought that both of our efforts haad been for nothing.

"It helps me that you care, though," I said huskily. "It really does. I don't feel so alone with it anymore."

He smiled at me then. A warm, kind smile. "I'm glad," he told me.

I smiled back at him then. Because, at least we'd tried.

Copyright©2003 Tris