Chapter 26 - MITCHELL AND ME, ONCE MORE
I saw Mitchell again when I was sixty-one.
By accident.
Hotel conference in Chicago.
He stood near registration.
Gray hair.
Still rugged.
Older.
He saw me.
Neither ran.
“Danielle.”
“Mitchell.”
His wife Erin stood beside him.
I knew from photographs.
He introduced us.
“This is Erin.”
She smiled.
“I’ve heard your name.”
Awkward.
I smiled back.
“Hopefully in full sentences.”
Mitchell laughed.
Good.
Daniel joined me.
Introductions.
No duel.
No old music.
Four adults.
Then Erin left for a session.
Daniel followed.
Not because planned.
Because they both understood.
Mitchell and I stood alone.
“How are you?”
“Good.”
“You?”
“Good.”
Silence.
Then:
“Do you still have Ward’s letter?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“I used to dream about that seal.”
“So did I.”
“Different reasons.”
“Probably.”
He looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
“You already said.”
“I know.”
No demand.
Then:
“Do you hate me?”
I considered.
“No.”
His eyes lifted.
“That’s not forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“Do you forgive me?”
“Parts.”
He smiled faintly.
“Your favorite answer.”
“Useful.”
Then he said:
“I did love you.”
“I know.”
“I wish that mattered more.”
“It mattered. It just didn’t make what you did acceptable.”
He nodded.
There.
No rewriting.
Then:
“Theresa would hate this conversation.”
I laughed.
“Yes.”
We parted.
No hug.
No exchange of numbers.
No secret future.
I walked toward Daniel.
He asked:
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Actually?”
I smiled.
“Actually.”
That was the last time I saw Mitchell.
Not because tragedy.
May you like
Life.
Sometimes the last scene with someone looks ordinary because you do not know it is last.
