“It changed anyway.”
No one spoke for a while.
Then she sat in the chair by the window.
I sat across from her.
Robert stayed on the bed.
She told me about Mike.
He was a mechanic.
He raised Ariella mostly on his own.
She showed me a picture.
The resemblance to Robert wasn’t dramatic.
But it was there.
Something around the eyes.
The shape of his chin.
I now understood Robert’s pain.
He had missed seeing and knowing his son.
I understood it.
I still didn’t forgive the lying.
When Ariella left, she hugged Robert.
Then she hesitated in front of me. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
She nodded.
Then she said, “Could I call you sometime?”
Robert looked up. I noticed.
So did she.
I answered, “Yes.”
After she left, Robert said, “Thank you.”
I turned around.
“I am not angry that you have a son you never knew about.”
