PART 17 – A Few Days After the Reunion, Brenda’s Name Appeared on My Phone, and I Had to Decide Whether to Answer

Several days passed after my visit to the company.

The photograph from the prom had been placed in a simple frame.

I kept it beside Arthur's picture.

Every morning, I saw it when I came downstairs.

I no longer looked at the dress and remembered the laughter first.

That was a change I hadn't expected.

One afternoon, I was sitting at the kitchen table reviewing some business papers when my phone rang.

I looked at the screen.

Brenda Vance.

I stared at the name.

For a moment, I considered letting it ring.

We hadn't exchanged phone numbers at the reunion.

Apparently, she had obtained mine through one of the other classmates.

I put the papers aside.

Then I answered.

"Hello?"

There was a brief pause.

"Martha? It's Brenda."

"I know."

She gave a small, nervous laugh.

"I hope I'm not bothering you."

"You're not."

I waited.

She seemed to be choosing her words carefully.

"I wanted to talk about the reunion."

I leaned back in my chair.

"All right."

She began by saying she hadn't realized how much the evening would affect her.

I didn't interrupt.

She mentioned the hotel manager.

She mentioned the documents.

Then she mentioned the apron.

"I've been thinking about that."

I looked toward the framed photograph.

"What about it?"

"I shouldn't have treated you that way."

It was the first clear apology I had heard from her.

I remained quiet.

She continued.

"I thought I was being funny. I didn't think about how it would make you feel."

I looked down at the papers on the table.

"Brenda, you knew what you were doing."

There was silence.

I wasn't trying to hurt her.

I was simply telling the truth.

She finally answered.

"I suppose I did."

I could hear something different in her voice.

Perhaps embarrassment.

Perhaps regret.

I couldn't know for certain.

Then she asked whether I had been angry with her all these years.

I thought about it.

There had been anger.

There had been shame.

There had been years when I avoided anything connected to Oakridge High because I didn't want to feel like that teenager again.

But I didn't want to pretend those feelings had defined my entire life.

"Sometimes I was hurt," I said. "More than I admitted."

She didn't respond immediately.

Then she asked about my mother.

I hadn't expected that.

I told her my mother had passed away years ago.

Brenda said she was sorry.

I thanked her.

Then I mentioned the dress.

I explained that my mother and I had made it together from fabric my grandmother had saved.

Brenda was quiet.

"I remember making fun of it."

"I remember, too."

"I didn't understand how much it meant to you."

I looked at the photograph.

"That was part of the problem."

She sighed.

I didn't know what she expected me to say next.

Perhaps she wanted me to tell her everything was forgiven.

Perhaps she wanted the conversation to become easier.

I couldn't offer something I wasn't ready to give.

But I could be honest.

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life being angry about high school."

"I understand."

"I've had a good life, Brenda. A difficult one sometimes, but a good one."

She said she was glad.

Then she asked whether I might attend another reunion if one were organized.

I smiled.

"Perhaps."

She laughed softly.

"That would be nice."

We spoke for another few minutes.

Nothing dramatic.

No long explanation.

No argument.

Before ending the call, she thanked me for answering.

I told her goodbye.

Then I put the phone down.

I sat quietly.

I hadn't expected her to call.

I also hadn't expected to feel so calm afterward.

There was no sudden happiness.

No feeling that everything from the past had been repaired.

But I didn't feel the need to replay the conversation.

That was something.

I returned to the papers I had been reviewing.

The company still needed decisions.

Life still needed attention.

And Brenda's apology, whether perfect or incomplete, could remain where it belonged.

In the past.

Click here to continue reading: PART 18: When I Finally Told David About Brenda’s Apology, He Reminded Me That Forgiveness Was Not the Same as Pretending Nothing Happened