“He was one of my closest friends,” Richard admitted. “We’d known each other for nearly 20 years.”
“What happened?”
“He moved away. I never apologized.”
I looked at him.
“All that over parking?”
Richard lowered his eyes.
“It wasn’t really about parking. I just couldn’t stand him telling me what to do.”
The admission left me unexpectedly quiet.
Richard continued.
“When you built that wall, I was furious because you made me look foolish. I didn’t care what the crane cost. I just wanted everyone to see that I could get my car out without your help.”
“And look where that got us,” I said.
He nodded.
For the first time, I recognized something beyond arrogance in his expression.
Regret.
But I wasn’t ready to excuse him.
“Richard, you made my life miserable for six months.”
“I know.”
“You laughed in my face.”
“I know.”
“And I shouldn’t have needed to build anything to make you respect my property.”
