On my birthday, I arrived before opening.
Eric sat in the corner booth with two slices of apple pie.
“I suppose he finally got his table for two,” he said.
I looked at the empty seat.
Missing me for years did not repair what he had done.
Nathan had manipulated me.
He had denied me the chance to confront him.
Missing me for years did not repair what he had done.
But the six weeks had also been real.
Love did not cancel anger.
Then he moved over and sat beside me.
Anger did not make love false.
I pulled a third chair toward the table.
“No,” I said. “He does not get to decide who belongs here.”
Eric looked at the chair for a long moment.
Then he moved over and sat beside me.
I looked at the envelope.
Before the doors opened, Eric reached into his briefcase and placed Nathan’s unopened letter to him on the table.
“I still haven’t read it,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because I know what he’ll ask me to forgive.”
I looked at the envelope.
