I was preparing to leave when Garland approached.
He came slowly.
His hands were empty.
His sons were standing near the front table.
Bonnie was speaking with a guest.
He stopped beside me.
"Della."
I looked up.
"Yes?"
"Could we talk before you go?"
I glanced at Ernestine.
She looked at me.
I gave her a small nod.
Then I stood.
Garland led me toward the hallway.
We stopped near the windows.
The same windows where we had spoken earlier.
He looked tired.
Not physically tired.
Something else.
He rubbed his hands together.
"I've been thinking about what you said."
I waited.
"About the boy."
I nodded.
He looked at the floor.
"I didn't know."
"No."
He raised his eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I looked at him.
For a moment, I wasn't sure whether I had heard him correctly.
Then I answered.
"You had been gone for years."
He nodded.
"I know."
"You didn't ask where I was. You didn't ask how I was doing. You didn't ask whether I ever found happiness."
He looked away.
I continued.
"So why would I call you to tell you about a little boy who needed a home?"
Garland swallowed.
He seemed to understand.
But he still looked troubled.
"I suppose I thought you moved on."
"I did."
He nodded.
Then he asked whether I had been happy.
I looked toward the parking lot.
"Yes."
He waited.
I continued.
"Not because everything was easy. It wasn't."
He lowered his head.
"But I found work. I found people. I found a reason to get up every morning."
He looked at me.
"And the children?"
I nodded.
"They gave me more reasons."
He seemed to struggle with that.
Then he said, "I always thought you would be angry with me."
I looked at him.
"I was."
He nodded.
"For a long time."
He looked down.
"I don't blame you."
I almost smiled.
"That's good."
He gave a small, tired laugh.
Then his expression changed.
"I made a mistake."
I didn't answer immediately.
He looked at me.
"I thought I knew what I needed."
I watched his face.
"I wanted children. I wanted a house full of them. I wanted what other men seemed to have."
He paused.
"I thought leaving was the only way."
I remembered the kitchen.
The duffel bag.
The words.
I had heard versions of this explanation before.
But this time, Garland wasn't trying to convince me that he had been right.
He was admitting something.
I let him continue.
"I never thought about what you would do afterward."
I felt my throat tighten.
"That was the problem."
He nodded.
We stood quietly.
Then he asked whether I had forgiven him.
I looked at him.
That was not a simple question.
People often thought forgiveness was something you could give on demand.
They imagined it as a door.
You opened it.
You walked through.
And everything became peaceful.
But life wasn't that tidy.
I answered carefully.
"I stopped being angry every day."
He listened.
"That doesn't mean I forgot."
He nodded.
"And it doesn't mean what happened was acceptable."
He looked down.
"I understand."
I hoped he did.
I looked toward the hall.
Ernestine was waiting beside our table.
My guests were beginning to collect their things.
I turned back.
"Garland, I have no wish to spend the rest of my life punishing you."
He looked at me.
"But I won't pretend you didn't hurt me."
He nodded.
"I wouldn't ask you to."
I studied him.
For the first time, I thought I could see the seventy-five-year-old man beneath the younger one I remembered.
He wasn't the center of my life anymore.
He wasn't even a major part of it.
He was simply somebody I had once loved.
And somebody who had made a decision that changed both our lives.
He looked toward the room.
"Bonnie didn't mean for things to become like this."
I raised an eyebrow.
He continued.
"She thought you might come alone."
I looked at him.
"She wrote the message."
He nodded.
"I know."
I waited.
He looked embarrassed.
"I should have stopped her."
That surprised me.
I hadn't expected him to say it.
"Yes," I said. "You should have."
He accepted the answer.
Then he asked whether I would consider speaking with him again sometime.
I looked at him.
"I don't know."
He nodded.
"That's fair."
I picked up my handbag.
He stepped aside.
"Thank you for coming, Della."
I looked at him.
"Happy birthday, Garland."
And I meant it.
Not because everything was forgiven.
Because I didn't want to carry hatred home with me.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: Bonnie Saw Me Preparing to Leave and Asked One Last Question That Made Me Understand How Different Our Two Lives Had Become
The Birthday Invitation That Arrived Forty-Two Years After My Marriage Ended Had One Cruel Sentence Written at the Bottom
Part 15 of 20
