Late night call
Don’t let them in! You hear me? No excuses!
It’s your birthday, love. Thirtyfive is a big one.
I couldn’t care less. I dont want to see them.
Steven, how many times must I say it? Ten years have gone by.
And another ten will pass, then twenty. To me theyre dead already.
Emma slipped onto the sofa and took his hand, warm and tense. It always got like this when the subject of our parents came up.
James called earlier. He wanted to know if he could come.
Harry yes, just him. No one else.
He said Mum was crying, wanted to see you.
Let her cry. Where was she when they threw me out of the house? When I spent nights crashing at friends places?
The story was as old as our arguments. Emma knew it by heart: second year at university, a disastrous exam period, the threat of expulsion. My father, retired Colonel Edward, a man of iron principles, once told me, Disgrace the family and youre out. And I was out.
Youve pulled yourself together. Finished another degree, landed a job.
On my own! Without them! And they bought Harry a flat, a car, a sweetheart!
Dont be angry at your brother. He isnt to blame.
Im not angry, just dont want to see my parents on the doorstep.
Emma sighed. The conversation went nowhere, as usual.
That evening I washed the dishes, thinking of my own thingsof Mum, whom I hadnt seen in the three years before she slipped away. Id been angry at her endless nagging, at the baseless punishments and humiliations. Id moved to another city and changed my number.
Then my aunt called, telling me Mum had died of liver disease. Shed spent her last days in a hospital ward.
Even now, in the night, I hear Mums voice:
Emma, forgive meshed mutter into the phone.
Whats on your mind?Steven wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
Mum.
Still chewing on it?
I cant stop. I should have come back, at least to say goodbye.
She kept you down, Emma! She squandered your scholarship.
But she was ill. A love of strong drink is a sickness, they say.
So what? Is that an excuse?
No. Still I could have forgiven her. Now its too late.
Steven turned me to face him.
Dont torment yourself. You did what you could. You saved yourself.
But I lost my soul.
Nonsense. You have the brightest soul I know.
He kissed my temple and I leaned into him. He didnt understand the weight of guilt.
We decided to keep the birthday lowkey at home. Fifteen guestsclose friends, colleagues, James with his wife.
Morning found me bustling in the kitchen: salads, hot dishes, a cake wed ordered. Steven helped, chopping veg and setting the table.
Harry will really be the only one coming?I asked amid the prep.
He promised.
Good.
By seven guests began to arrive. James showed up at half past seven, followed by two more at the door.
My fathersilverhaired, stiff as a cane, in a dark suitstood beside my mother, a petite woman in a floral dress clutching a wrapped parcel.
Steven froze, bottle in hand.
What does this mean?
Steven, dearmy mother stepped forward.
I didnt invite you.
We came on our own, my father snapped. We have a right!
You have no right! James, what the hell?
Brother, calm down. Theyre my parents!
I dont care! Get out!
The guests stared, some with glasses, some with plates, the room thick with an awkward silence.
Steven, dontEmma touched his hand.
Yes, I must!He shouted. Ten years you didnt know me! You ignored my wedding! You never recognised my grandson! And now you turn up?
We just wanted to wish youmy mother thrust the parcel forward. Happy birthday.
Keep your wishes to yourselves! I need nothing from you!
Stanley, stop your tantrum! my father roared. Behave like a man!
How did you raise me? To throw out the son who stumbled?
You disgraced the family!
I was just a student! A regular bloke who flunked an exam!
Because of parties and girls!
And thats a reason to cast your son out?
My mother began to weep. My fathers face reddened.
We gave you a lesson!
You ruined my life! If it werent for Emma and the others, where would I be?
Dont exaggerate! I survived!
I survived without you! And Ill live on!
James tried to intervene.
Calm down, everyone. The guests
Let them go!Steven turned to the door. Out, both of you!
My father straightened even more.
Fine. Now I know I made the right decision. All my assets will go to Jamesdown to the last penny. Youll be left with nothing!
I dont give a toss about your money!
Well see how you sing when were gone.
Off with you!
The parents left, my mother sobbing, my father marching out with a stiff stride. James chased after them, pleading, trying to persuade.
Silence settled over the room.
Sorry, everyoneSteven said to the remaining guests. Family drama.
It happens, no worriessomeone tried to lighten the mood.
But the celebration was ruined. Guests slipped away quickly, leaving only James, pale and dejected.
Whyd you bring them?Steven asked, exhausted.
I thought youd reconcile. Mum asked for it.
Let her ask all she wants. I dont care.
Brother, thats wrong. Theyre old now.
And what? Old age is a pardon?
Father was serious about his will. Hell leave you nothing.
Good. I dont need his handouts.
James left. Emma quietly cleared the table. Steven sank onto the sofa, his face buried in his hands.
Did I do the right thing?
I dont know. I understand you.
They didnt even apologise. They came as if nothing had happened.
Pride wont let you see that.
And my pride? Could they have trampled me?
Emma sat beside me and hugged me.
You cant. But sometimes sometimes forgiveness is better while theres still time.
Hows your mum?
Shes okay.
Thats different, Emma. Your mum was ill. Mine just harsh people.
Maybe. Or maybe they just dont know how to love properly.
Three years later, a normal morning, I was getting ready for work when the phone rangJames.
Brother, Dads in hospital. Stroke.
Something inside me snapped.
Seriously?
Doctors say it might be fatal.
I see.
Are you coming?
I dont know.
Steven, hes your father. Whatever happens.
I put the receiver down. Emma watched me closely.
Hes on the brink.
Go.
Why? He doesnt want me.
And you? Do you want him to die like that?
Steven was silent, remembering childhood rides on a bike with my father, fishing by the lake, the firstgrade backpack and my dads firm hand. When did the protector become a tyrant?
Go, Emma urged. Itll be too late later.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic. My mother, frail and gray, sat in the corridor. When she saw me, she lunged forward.
Steven! Youve come!
She embraced me, and I stood like a statue, unable to answer.
Hows Dad?
Bad. The doctors theyre not hopeful.
Can I see him?
Hes unconscious, but they say he can hear.
In the ward, my father lay on the bed, tubes and monitors humming. The imposing colonel was now a weak old man.
I sat beside him, took his dry handlight as a feather.
Dad, its me. Steven.
Silence, only the beeping of machines.
I I need to say this. I was angry at you for years. For kicking me out, for the indifference, for loving Harry more than me.
His hand twitched.
But you know what? I forgive you. I forgive you. Hear that? Im letting go.
His eyes fluttered open, cloudy but recognisable.
Dad?
His lips moved. I leaned in.
I sorry
A single word, barely audible, drifted out. I heard it.
I forgive you, dad.
He closed his eyes again, his face finally at peace.
I stayed, holding his hand, chatting about work, about my own family, about a grandson hed never see. He passed away that night, quietly, as if waiting for forgiveness. My mother later said hed been waiting for that moment.
After the funeral, Emma and I sat at home, sipping tea in silence.
How are you?she asked.
Strange. I thought Id feel something, but its empty inside.
You did right coming here.
You know, he actually said forgive. The first time in my life.
Pride shattered before a bigger world.
Mine too.
Emma lifted her head.
Steven, forgive yourself for Mum. She wouldnt want you to keep hurting.
How do you know?
Because parents love their children, even the flawed ones, in their own crooked, painful way. They forgive everything.
Tears fell from Emmas eyes. I pulled her close, holding her tight.
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 this burden.
Outside, snow fellfirst of the year, clean and white, like forgiveness, a fresh page.
I thought about my father, how we might have reconciled sooner, how much time was wasted on anger. At least I managed to say the words, to hear them. Thats something.
May we be wise enough to forgive, because parents arent eternal, and we never get to choose them.
