“There was a way, David. It was called not betraying me.”
“Mom, go, please, before I say something I might regret.”
He stood there for what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes. Finally, he walked to the car with slow steps, as if each step pained him. Before getting in, he turned one last time.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I loved you, too, David. Past tense.”
The car started kicking up dust again. I watched the tail lights recede down the road until they became red dots in the darkness. When they disappeared completely, I sat on the porch step.
For the first time in days, everything was silent. And for the first time in years, that silence felt like peace.
I sat on the porch step until the stars completely filled the sky. The night air smelled of jasmine and damp earth, a scent that had always calmed me.
But that night had a different flavor. It tasted of freedom.
Helen appeared on the path connecting our properties, walking slowly with a steaming mug in her hands.
“Mind if I sit with you?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“Not at all. In fact, I need the company.”
She settled on the step next to me and handed me the mug. “Hot chocolate with cinnamon, exactly what my soul needed at that moment.
“I saw them leave,” she said after a while. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s perfect.”
We sat in silence, sharing the chocolate. Helen has that wisdom of knowing when to talk and when to simply be present.
“You know what’s the strangest thing?” I finally said, I thought I would feel sad. I thought I would cry, that I would regret it.
