The Call After

The phone rings, and I know it is her.

As much as I never want to speak to her again, this is the call that I have been waiting for. I let the phone ring a little longer than usual, and answer with a silence.

 

'Daniel?'

 

She calls me by my name.

 

I manage a 'Hi'.

 

'Listen, I just called to say that, for what it's worth, I'm really sorry…'

 

And my mind drifts off. Talk is cheap, especially when they come from the lips of a slut. But I can't blame her. I saw the train coming from a mile away and I sat on the tracks and had a sandwich.

 

'… I really hope that one day you be able to forgive me.'

 

Her voice is slightly coarser than usual.

'Daniel?'

 

The betrayal. You build your life around someone, some ideal, only to realize a beach wedding with twenty tables has its foundation in sand.

 

'In all honesty, you are forgiven. But I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore.'

 

A heart is not meant to love and hate someone at the same time.

 

She says nothing, and my heart pounds.

 

'I really think you need to leave your job?'

 

And she cries. And I cry.

 

We talk for another twenty minutes, and it is just like nothing ever happened. But there is no anesthetic for this hurt, and as I hang up, I realize how difficult a concept forgiveness is.

 

Saying it is one thing, but truly forgiving someone, is something else altogether. I know the time will come when I have to deal with all of this, but I think I have grieved enough for the night. I shut my eyes.

I see her face, her smile. God.

I smile at the irony.