Chapter 13

13

She comes to me in the night, whispering my name. I am slumped, but still upright, sleeping on a wooden park bench.

Richard...I need you to forgive me. I had no idea.

A burning, some sort of indigestion, rises in my belly. She stares at me with those burdensome blue eyes. Forgive her? Does she think me invincible?

The wind picks up and the ruffles of her blue dress sway like the ocean tide. Her spray lands upon my cheek. I can taste the salt in the air.

Once, a long, long time ago, she was forgiven. But I could never tell her that. It hurts the grieved too much to believe she has never received forgiveness for her transgressions. She'll take that denial to her grave, and I'll lay flowers against her headstone.

I forgive you mother. I forgive you for the hospitalization, for the therapy, for the treatments. I forgive you for your years of absence and never sending birthday wishes. I forgive you now that I'm spending this evening alone on a park bench. I forgive you if it starts to rain...

And it does. And she is gone. She never said goodbye and I in turn never forgave. Until now. Until the rain.

Jamie left me half a pack of cigarettes before she headed home with her roommate. Before she said goodnight. Before she lent me her jacket. Jamie looks nothing like the rain. She reminds me nothing of the sea.