Late Night Call
Dont invite them, you hear me? Not under any pretext!
Its your birthday, Stan. Thirtyfive is a serious milestone.
I couldnt care less. I dont want to see them.
Stanley, really? Its been ten years.
And another ten will go by. And twenty. To me theyre dead and buried.
Poppy slipped into the kitchen chair, took his handwarm, tense. As always, whenever the talk turned to parents.
James called. He asked if he could come.
Harry yes. One. Without the others.
He said Mum was crying. She wants to see you.
Let her cry. Where was she when they threw me out of the house? When I crashed on a friends sofa night after night?
Old story. Poppy knew it word for word. Second year at university, a disastrous exam season, a dismissal. Father, a retired colonel, a man of iron principles. Disgrace the family get out. And Stan vanished. Into nowhere
Youve pulled yourself together. Got a degree elsewhere, a job.
On my own! Without them! And Harry later bought a flat! A car! A beloved pet!
Dont be sour on your brother. Hes not to blame.
Im not sour. I just dont want to see my parents at the doorstep.
Poppy sighed. Another futile conversation, as usual.
That evening she washed the dishes, mind drifting to her own thoughts. To the mother she hadnt seen for three years before her last breath.
Shed been angry then at yet another pointless punishment, humiliation. Shed fled to another city, changed her number.
Then Aunt June rang, saying Mum had passedliver failure. Only one sister was left in the hospital ward.
Even now, in the dead of night, she heard her mothers voice:
Poppy, forgive me, shed say, dropping the handset.
What are you moping about? Stan wrapped his arms around her from behind.
About Mum.
Still gnawing at yourself?
I cant stop. I should have gone back, at least to say goodbye.
She was using you, Poppy! Squandering your scholarship.
But she was ill. A love of strong drink is a disease, they say.
So what? An excuse?
No. Still I could have forgiven. Now its too late.
Stan turned her to face him.
Dont torture yourself. You did what you could. You saved yourself.
And lost your soul.
Nonsense. You have the brightest soul I know.
He kissed her temple, and Poppy nestled against him. He didnt quite get how to live with that lingering guilt.
They agreed to keep the birthday lowkey at home. Fifteen guests close friends, colleagues, James and his wife.
From sunrise Poppy swirled around the kitchen. Salads, hot dishes, a cake ordered online. Stan helped chopping veg, setting the table.
Harrys definitely coming alone? he asked amid the hustle.
He promised.
Good.
By seven guests began to arrive. James showed up at half past seven, followed by two more pushing through the door.
Father grey, stern as a walking stick, in a sharp suit. Mother petite, in a floral dress, clutching a gift box.
Stan froze, a bottle in his hand.
Whats this about?
Stanley, dear Mother stepped forward.
I never invited you.
We came on our own, the colonel growled. We have a right!
You have no right! James, what the hell?
Brother, calm down. Theyre my parents!
I dont give a toss! Get out!
The guests froze. Some with glasses, some with plates. An awkward silence settled.
Stan, dont do this, Poppy touched his hand.
No, I must! He snapped. Ten years you didnt know me! Ignored my wedding! Refused my grandson! And now you waltz in?
We just wanted to wish you well, Mother extended the box. Happy birthday.
Stick your wishes where the sun doesnt shine! I need nothing from you!
Stanley, stop the screaming! the colonel barked. Behave like a man!
How did you teach me? To banish the son who stumbled?
You disgraced the family!
I was a student! A regular student who flunked an exam!
Because of parties and girls!
And thats a reason to toss a son out the door?
Mother began to sob. Fathers face flushed.
We gave you a lesson!
You ruined my life! If it werent for Poppy, for my mates, where would I be?
Dont exaggerate! I survived!
I survived without you! And Ill keep on surviving!
James tried to mediate.
Everyone, calm down. The guests
Let them leave! Stan turned to the doorway. Out! Both of them!
Father straightened even more.
Fine. Now I know I made the right decision. All our assets will go to James. Every penny! And you a zero, an empty spot!
I couldnt care less about your money!
Well see how you sing when were gone.
Youll be left with nothing but a tablecloth!
The parents left. Mother hiccuped, father shuffled away with a clomp. James chased after them, babbling something, pleading.
Silence hung in the room.
Sorry, everyone, Stan said to the guests. Family drama.
It happens, someone tried to lighten the mood.
But the celebration was ruined. Guests slipped out quickly. Only James stayed, pale and dejected.
Why did you bring them? Stan asked, weary.
I thought youd reconcile. Mum begged me.
Let her beg all she likes. Im indifferent.
Brother, thats not right. Theyre old now.
And old age is a licence to be cruel?
Father spoke seriously about the will. He wont leave you anything.
Thank heavens. I dont need their handouts!
James left. Poppy quietly cleared the table. Stan sank onto the sofa, face buried in his palms.
Did I do the right thing? he muttered.
I have no idea. But I understand you.
They didnt even apologise. They turned up as if nothing had happened.
Pride wont let you admit defeat.
And my pride? Could they have trampled me?
Poppy sat beside him, wrapping an arm around him.
They cant. But sometimes sometimes its better to forgive while you still can.
Hows your mum?
Shes gone.
Thats another story, Poppy. Your mum was ill. Mine were just hardhearted.
Perhaps. Or maybe they just didnt know how to love otherwise.
Three years later, a normal morning, Stan was getting ready for work when the phone rang it was James.
Brother, Dads in hospital. Stroke.
Something inside him snapped.
Seriously?
Doctors say they might not pull through.
I see.
Are you coming?
I dont know.
Stan, hes your father. Whatever happens.
He put the receiver down. Poppy watched him, eyebrows raised.
Dads on his last legs.
Go.
Why? He doesnt even want me.
And you? Do you want him to go peacefully?
Stan fell silent, remembering childhood bike rides, fishing by the lake, the gigantic schoolbag in firstgrade, his fathers firm grip.
When did the protector become the tyrant?
Go, Poppy urged. Itll be too late later.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic. A frail, silverhaired woman sat in the corridor his mother, barely recognizable. She saw Stan and clutched at him.
Stanley! Youve come!
She embraced him. He stood like a statue, speechless.
Hows Dad?
Bad. The doctors theyre not giving much hope.
Can I see him?
Hes unconscious, but they say he can hear.
The ward: father on a bed, tubes, drips, monitors. Not the intimidating colonel, but a feeble old man.
Stan sat beside him, took his withered hand light as a feather.
Dad, its me. Stanley.
Silence. Only the beep of the monitors.
I I want to say this. I was angry at you. I held a grudge for years. For kicking me out. For your indifference. For loving Harry more than me.
His hand trembled. Was it real?
But you know what? I forgive you. Hear that? I forgive you, for everything.
His fathers eyes flickered open, cloudy but focused, a hint of recognition.
Dad?
His lips moved. Stan leaned in.
I forgive
A single word, barely audible. Yet Stan heard it.
I forgive, Dad. Its alright.
His father closed his eyes again, this time with a calm expression.
Stan stayed, holding his hand, chatting about work, family, a grandchild hed never get to meet.
That night his father slipped away, quietly, as if in a dream. Mother later said hed been waiting for forgiveness.
After the funeral, Stan and Poppy sat at home, sipping tea in companionable silence.
How are you? she asked.
Odd. I thought Id feel something, but theres just emptiness.
You did the right thing, leaving.
You know, he actually said I forgive. My first time hearing it.
Pride fell apart before the world.
Yes. Mine too.
Poppy lifted her head.
Stanley, forgive yourself for Mum. She wouldnt want you to keep hurting.
How do you know?
Because parents love their kids. Even those like my father crooked, painful, but they love. And theyll forgive everything.
Poppy wept. Stan pulled her close, pressing her against him.
Were both fools, clinging to grudges, gnawing at ourselves. We should have just just forgiven.
Now we know.
Its too late for them. But were alive. We can live without that burden.
Outside, the first snow of the year fell, pure and white, like forgiveness, like a fresh page.
Stan thought of his father, wondering how early they could have mended. How much time lost to anger.
At least hed said the words, heard the answer. Thats more than many get.
Be wise, learn to forgive, because parents arent eternal, and you cant choose them
