April 27Late call
Dont you dare invite them, understand? Not under any pretext!
But its your birthday, Stan. Thirtyfive is a milestone.
I couldnt care less. I dont want to see them.
Stanley, come on, how long can you hold out? Its been ten years.
Itll be another ten, maybe twenty. To me theyre dead and buried.
Emma slipped onto the couch beside me and took my handwarm, tense, just as it always is when anything to do with my parents comes up.
Edward called, wanted to know if he could drop in.
Harryyes. One person. No one else.
He said Mums crying, wants to see you.
Let her cry. Where was she when they threw me out of the house? When I was crashing at friends places one night after another?
It was the same old story. Emma knew it by heart: second year at university, a disastrous exam period, a forced dismissal. My father, a retired colonel, a man of iron principles. Disgrace the familyget out. And I did. I vanished.
You pulled yourself together. Finished another college, found a job.
On my own! No one helped! And Harry later bought a flat! A car! A pet!
Dont be angry with your brother. Hes not to blame.
Im not angry. I just dont want to see my parents, not even at the doorstep.
Emma sighed. It was a pointless argument, as usual.
That evening I washed the dishes, thinking of my own life. Of Mum, whom I hadnt seen for three years before her final breath. Id been bitter then, over her constant nagging, the baseless punishments, the humiliation. I moved to another town, changed my number.
Then my aunt calledMum had died of liver disease. Shed spent her last days in a hospital ward.
Even now, in the dead of night, I still hear Mums voice:
Emma, forgive me, shed say, and Id hang up.
Whats on your mind? Stan asked, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
Thinking about Mum.
Are you still beating yourself up?
I cant stop. I should have come back, at least to say goodbye.
She was cheating you, Emma! Wasting your scholarship.
But she was ill. A craving for strong drink is a disease, they said.
And what? An excuse?
No. Yet I could have forgiven her. Its too late now.
Stan turned me toward 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 my temple, and I nestled against him. He didnt understand, didnt know how to live with that burden.
We decided to keep the birthday lowkey at home. Fifteen guestsclose friends, colleagues, Edward and his wife.
Morning found me bustling in the kitchen: salads, hot dishes, a cake ordered online. Stan helpedchopping veg, setting the table.
Harry will really be the only one coming? I asked amidst the chaos.
He promised.
Good.
By seven oclock the guests began to arrive. Edward showed up at half past seven, followed by two strangers who squeezed through the door.
My fathersilverhaired, upright as a soldier, in a stiff suit. My motherpetite, in a floral dress, clutching a wrapped box.
Stan froze, a bottle in his hand.
What does this mean?
My dear, my mother stepped forward. I didnt invite you.
We came on our own, my father snapped. We have a right!
No rights here! Edward, what are you doing?
Brother, dont be harsh. Theyre my parents!
I dont give a toss! Get out!
The room fell into an awkward silence, plates and glasses suspended in midair.
Stan, dont go, Emma whispered, touching his hand.
No, I must! he burst out. Youve not known me for ten years! You ignored my wedding! You wont even acknowledge my grandson! And now you show up?
We just wanted to wish you, my mother offered, holding out the box. Happy birthday.
Stick your wishes where the sun doesnt shine! I need nothing from you!
Stanley, stop this hysteria! my father roared. Behave like a man!
How did you teach me? To throw out the son who stumbled?
You disgraced the family!
I was a student! Just an ordinary student who failed his exams!
Because of parties and girls!
And thats a reason to cast a son out?
My mother began to sob. My fathers face flushed.
We gave you a lesson!
You broke my life! If it hadnt been Emma, my friends, where would I be now?
Dont exaggerate! You survived!
I survived without you! Ill keep on living!
Edward tried to intervene.
Listen, calm down. The guests
Let them leave! Stan turned toward the door. Both of you, get out!
My father straightened even more.
Well then. I finally know I made the right decision. Every penny of our estate goes to Edwarddown to the last pence. You, Stanley, are nothing. A void!
I couldnt care less about your money!
Well see how you sing when were gone.
My thanks to you!
My parents left. Mother hiccupped, father stalked away with a determined stride. Edward chased after them, murmuring pleas.
Silence settled over the room.
Im sorry, Stan said to the remaining guests. Family quarrels.
Its alright, it happens, someone tried to lighten the mood.
But the celebration was ruined. The guests slipped out quickly, leaving only Edward, pale and dejected.
What did you want them for? Stan asked, weary.
I thought youd reconcile. Mum asked me to.
Let her ask all she wants. Im indifferent.
Brother, thats not right. Theyre getting old.
And what? Old age is a pardon?
My father spoke seriously about the will. He wont leave you anything.
And thank God. I dont need his handouts!
Edward left. Emma silently cleared the table. Stan sank onto the sofa, face buried in his palms.
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 bend.
What about my pride? Could I have been trampled?
Emma sat beside me and hugged me.
You cant be. But sometimes sometimes its better to forgive while you still can.
Hows your mother?
Fine.
Thats different, Emma. Your mum was ill. Mine were just hardhearted people.
Maybe. Or maybe they just didnt know how to love properly.
Three years later, a usual morning, Stan was getting ready for work when the phone rangEdwards voice.
Brother, Dads in hospital. Stroke.
Something inside me snapped.
Seriously?
The doctors say it might not be reversible.
Understood.
Are you coming?
I dont know.
Stan, hes your father. Whatever it takes.
I hung up. Emma stared at me.
Dads on the edge.
Go.
Why? He doesnt want me.
And you? Do you want him to go away?
Stan fell silent, recalling childhood: my father teaching me to ride a bike, fishing by the lake, the firstgrade backpack hefted by his strong hand. When did the protector become a tyrant?
Go, Emma urged again. Itll be too late later.
The hospital smelled of disinfectant. A frail, silverhaired woman sat in the corridor, eyes dull. She saw Stan and clutched at him.
Stanley! Youre here!
She hugged him; he stood like a statue, unmoving.
Hows Dad?
Bad. The doctors theyre not giving us much hope.
Can I see him?
Hes unconscious, but they say he can hear.
In the ward, my father lay on the bedtubes, drips, monitors. No longer the intimidating colonel, but a weak old man.
Stan sat beside him, took his handdry, featherlight.
Dad, its me. Stanley.
Silence, broken only by the beeping machines.
I I want to say this. I was angry at you. Ive held this grudge for years. For throwing me out. For your indifference. For loving Harry more than me.
His hand twitched.
But you know what? I forgive you. Hear that? I forgive you for everything.
My fathers eyes fluttered open, cloudy yet recognisable.
Dad?
His lips moved.
Stan I sorry
A single word, barely audible.
I forgive you, Dad. Its alright.
He closed his eyes again, his face finally at peace.
Stan stayed, holding his fathers hand, talking about work, family, the grandson he never got to meet.
That night my father passed quietly, as if in his sleep. My mother later said hed been waiting for forgiveness.
After the funeral, Stan and I sat at home, tea steaming, silence hanging between us.
How are you? Emma asked.
Strange. I thought Id feel something, but inside its empty.
You did right by driving away.
You know, he said forgive for the first time in his life.
My pride crumbled before the world.
Mine too.
Emma lifted her head.
Stan, forgive yourself for Mum. She wouldnt want you to suffer.
How do you know?
Because parents love their children. Even the ones like my fathercrooked, painful, but still love. And they forgive everything.
Tears streamed down Emmas cheeks. Stan pulled her close, pressing her to his chest.
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 fellpure, white, like forgiveness, like a fresh page.
Stan thought of his father, wondering how they could have reconciled sooner, how much time had been wasted on anger. At least hed said the words, heard them. That was enough.
Being wise means learning to forgive, because parents arent immortal, and we dont get to choose them
