Chapter 26 - MY LAST APOLOGY
William was thirty when I apologized one final time for the table.
He rolled his eyes.
“Mom.”
“I need to say it once more as an adult.”
“You already did.”
“You were five.”
“Fine.”
We sat in his clinic after hours.
“I should have taken you out of that room.”
“Yes.”
“I made Cody fall because I wanted him hurt enough to stop smiling.”
William looked at me.
“That’s darker than your usual version.”
“It’s more accurate.”
“Did you want him seriously injured?”
“No.”
“Did you know he could be?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
“That’s all?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then stop asking me to carry your guilt.”
I smiled.
“You sound like Dr. Morris.”
“Therapy inheritance.”
Fair.
Then he added:
“What I remember most isn’t you kicking the table.”
“What is?”
“You crouching down after and saying my birthday wasn’t boring.”
I blinked.
“That?”
“Yes.”
“Not the threat?”
“I thought the threat was cool.”
I groaned.
“Excellent parenting.”
May you like
He laughed.
Memory humbles the storyteller.
