finally realize that.”
“I was on the verge of conjuring some of it back up tonight, but then I just thought how pathetic it was.”
“I do regret what I did to you, and although you may not believe me, I hated myself for how I did it and have prayed all these years that you’d forgive me.”
“Pray a little harder,” I say, and I feel a smirk emerge. “So tell me what you liked least about me.”
“Wow. Seriously?” he asks.
I look at him like,
That’s a yes.
“You always had to be right. You always wanted things to be done your way, as if it were the best way. And—”
“Wait! That’s enough! Okay. One more and that’s it!”
“You were impatient.”
“Who isn’t, Michael?”
“Well, you’d get a little unhinged when things didn’t go the way you thought they should go or the way you planned.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“And you had almost zero tolerance for people you didn’t think were as intelligent as you.”
“And these are character defects?” I start laughing. “Don’t think I haven’t figured some of this out—even though the things you mention are only minor imperfections.”
“What about me?” he asks, looking a bit scared.
“They were minor things and not deal breakers. However, you were a little on the lazy side and had no household skills, but other than that I would have to put being dishonest and sneaky on the top of this small list.”
“I’ve gotten much better at being honest. And learned it’s not half as expensive as being dishonest.”
“You know what I’ve figured out?”
“No.”
“Men are stupid.”
“Georgia,” he says, nodding as if I’m right, which I am. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for disappointing you, and for breaking the promises I made to you,” he says. When I see the whites of his eyes turn glassy pink, I feel mine stinging, too.
“I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that.”
“I hope you haven’t made other men pay for what I did.”
“Believe me, you’re not the only one on that bus, dude, but at least you seem to have finally gained a modicum of insight based on your fucked-up ways—or is this all staged?”
“I’m almost saintly,” he says, trying to relax and head back to being serious. “I’m still hoping to meet someone like you, Georgia.”
“You met me a long time ago, Michael.”
“It’s too bad we don’t get do-overs.”
“If that’s a question, I think you’re right. Don’t you have someone in your life?”
“No,” he says. “And you?”
I’m tempted to lie, but since this has become a damn honest party, I say, “No.”
“Well, it’s not over,” he says.
“That’s the word on the street,” I say, and he stands up and just smiles, and I say, “It’s nice to see you, Michael, and I’m glad we have more good memories than bad. So let’s just cherish the goodness we shared and consider it an amazing chapter in our lives. Deal?”
“Deal,” he says, and walks over to pull my chair out as I stand up. This time he wraps his arms around me and squeezes so hard I think he squeezes all that ancient anger right on out of me.
“You sound different,” Wanda says as she devours the chips and salsa I just set out for her and Violet, who shocked me by apologizing after I didn’t return her calls and said she still meant what she’d said, just maybe not the way she said it, and I just told her that it’s my life to live it the way I want to and that I didn’t need her approval to do anything, and then we hugged through the phone. This is nothing new.
“Hold on,” Violet says. “Where’d you buy this salsa? It’s delicious.”
“I made it just for you two huzzies.”
“Where’d you get the recipe?” Wanda asks. “You know Nelson loves salsa.”
“I made it up. It’s just heirloom tomatoes and lots of other stuff. I’ll write it down.”
They’re helping me pack all the photographs in tissue paper and Bubble Wrap as well as making labels for some of the
“I was on the verge of conjuring some of it back up tonight, but then I just thought how pathetic it was.”
“I do regret what I did to you, and although you may not believe me, I hated myself for how I did it and have prayed all these years that you’d forgive me.”
“Pray a little harder,” I say, and I feel a smirk emerge. “So tell me what you liked least about me.”
“Wow. Seriously?” he asks.
I look at him like,
That’s a yes.
“You always had to be right. You always wanted things to be done your way, as if it were the best way. And—”
“Wait! That’s enough! Okay. One more and that’s it!”
“You were impatient.”
“Who isn’t, Michael?”
“Well, you’d get a little unhinged when things didn’t go the way you thought they should go or the way you planned.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“And you had almost zero tolerance for people you didn’t think were as intelligent as you.”
“And these are character defects?” I start laughing. “Don’t think I haven’t figured some of this out—even though the things you mention are only minor imperfections.”
“What about me?” he asks, looking a bit scared.
“They were minor things and not deal breakers. However, you were a little on the lazy side and had no household skills, but other than that I would have to put being dishonest and sneaky on the top of this small list.”
“I’ve gotten much better at being honest. And learned it’s not half as expensive as being dishonest.”
“You know what I’ve figured out?”
“No.”
“Men are stupid.”
“Georgia,” he says, nodding as if I’m right, which I am. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for disappointing you, and for breaking the promises I made to you,” he says. When I see the whites of his eyes turn glassy pink, I feel mine stinging, too.
“I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that.”
“I hope you haven’t made other men pay for what I did.”
“Believe me, you’re not the only one on that bus, dude, but at least you seem to have finally gained a modicum of insight based on your fucked-up ways—or is this all staged?”
“I’m almost saintly,” he says, trying to relax and head back to being serious. “I’m still hoping to meet someone like you, Georgia.”
“You met me a long time ago, Michael.”
“It’s too bad we don’t get do-overs.”
“If that’s a question, I think you’re right. Don’t you have someone in your life?”
“No,” he says. “And you?”
I’m tempted to lie, but since this has become a damn honest party, I say, “No.”
“Well, it’s not over,” he says.
“That’s the word on the street,” I say, and he stands up and just smiles, and I say, “It’s nice to see you, Michael, and I’m glad we have more good memories than bad. So let’s just cherish the goodness we shared and consider it an amazing chapter in our lives. Deal?”
“Deal,” he says, and walks over to pull my chair out as I stand up. This time he wraps his arms around me and squeezes so hard I think he squeezes all that ancient anger right on out of me.
“You sound different,” Wanda says as she devours the chips and salsa I just set out for her and Violet, who shocked me by apologizing after I didn’t return her calls and said she still meant what she’d said, just maybe not the way she said it, and I just told her that it’s my life to live it the way I want to and that I didn’t need her approval to do anything, and then we hugged through the phone. This is nothing new.
“Hold on,” Violet says. “Where’d you buy this salsa? It’s delicious.”
“I made it just for you two huzzies.”
“Where’d you get the recipe?” Wanda asks. “You know Nelson loves salsa.”
“I made it up. It’s just heirloom tomatoes and lots of other stuff. I’ll write it down.”
They’re helping me pack all the photographs in tissue paper and Bubble Wrap as well as making labels for some of the
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