Late call
Dont invite them! Hear me? No matter the excuse!
Its your birthday, Stan. Thirtyfive, a serious milestone.
I dont care. I dont want to see them.
Stan, how long can you go on? Ten years have slipped by.
Another ten will pass. And twenty more. To me theyre already dead.
Ethel sat beside him, squeezed his handwarm, tense. Always that grip when the talk turned to parents.
George rang. Asked if he could come.
Billyyes. One. 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 was crashing at friends places one night after another?
Old story. Ethel knew it by heart. Second year at university, a brutal exam period, dismissal. Father a retired colonel, a man of iron principles. Disgrace the familyleave. And Stan walked out, into nowhere
You managed, didnt you? Finished another college, got a job.
On my own! No help! And Billy later bought a flat! A car! A pet!
Dont be angry at your brother. Hes not at fault.
Im not angry. I just dont want to see my parents on the doorstep.
Ethel sighed. A futile argument, as always.
That evening she washed dishes, thoughts drifting to her own mother, the one she hadnt seen for three years before her final breath.
Shed once been bitter at her mothers endless scoldings, baseless punishments, humiliations. Shed fled to another city, changed her number.
Then her aunt called: mother had diedliver failure. One sister was in a hospital ward.
Even now, in the night, her mothers voice haunts her:
Ethel, forgive me, shed say, slamming the receiver.
Whats on your mind? Stan whispered from behind, arms around her.
Mum.
Youre still gnawing at yourself?
I cant stop. I should have come, at least to say goodbye.
She cheated you, Ethel! Went off with your scholarship.
But she was ill. A love for strong drink is a disease.
And thats an excuse?
No. Still I could have forgiven. Now its too late.
Stan turned her toward him.
Dont torture yourself. You did what you could. You saved yourself.
But I lost my soul.
Nonsense. You have the brightest soul Ive ever known.
He kissed her temple, and Ethel nestled against him. He didnt know how to live with such guilt.
They decided to keep the birthday at home. Fifteen guestsclose friends, colleagues, George with his wife.
Morning found Ethel whirling in the kitchen. Salads steaming, a cake ordered for £45. Stan helpedslicing veg, laying the table.
Billy will definitely be the only one to show? he asked between tasks.
He promised.
Good.
By seven, guests began to arrive. George turned up at half past seven, followed by two more squeezing through the doorway.
Fathergray, rigid as a cane, in a solemn suit. Mothersmall, in a floral dress, clutching a gift box.
Stan froze, a bottle in his hand.
What does this mean?
Stanley, dear Mother stepped forward.
I never invited you.
We came on our own, the stern father declared. We have a right!
You have no right! George, what the
Brother, cut it out. Theyre just parents!
I dont care! Get out!
The guests haltedsome with glasses, some with plates. An awkward silence fell.
Stan, dont, Ethel brushed his hand.
No, I must! He burst out. Youve ignored me ten years! My wedding you dismissed! My grandson you wont acknowledge! And now you appear?
We wanted to wish you, Mother offered the box. Happy birthday.
Stuff your congratulations I need nothing from you!
Stanley, stop the tantrum! the father barked. Behave like a man!
How did you teach me? To evict the son who stumbled?
You disgraced the family!
I was a student! An ordinary student who failed his exams!
Because of parties and girls!
And thats a reason to throw a son out?
Mother began to sob. Fathers face flushed.
We gave you a lesson!
You ruined my life! If it werent for Ethel, for friends, where would I be?
Dont exaggerate! You survived!
I survived without you! And Ill keep on!
George tried to intervene.
Listen, calm down. The guests
Let them go! Stan turned to the door. Out! Both of you!
Father straightened even more.
Fine. Now I know Ive made the right decision. All our property will go to George. Every penny! And younothing. A hollow void!
I dont care about your money!
Well see how you sing when were gone.
Good riddance!
The parents left. Mother wept, father trudged away, his boots clacking. George chased after them, pleading, coaxing.
Silence settled over the room.
Sorry, Stan said to the guests. Family squabbles.
It happens, someone attempted to ease the tension.
But the celebration was ruined. Guests drifted away. Only George lingered, pale and troubled.
Whyd you bring them? Stan asked, exhausted.
I thought youd reconcile. Mum asked me to.
Let her ask all she wants. Im indifferent.
Brother, thats not right. Theyre old now.
And so what? Old age is a pardon?
Father spoke seriously about the will. Hell leave you nothing.
Good. I dont need their handouts!
George left. Ethel quietly 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. Came as if nothing had happened.
Pride wont let you.
And my pride? Could I have been trampled?
Ethel sat beside him, hugged him.
You cant be trampled. But sometimes sometimes forgiveness is better before its too late.
Hows your mum?
Shes gone.
Thats another story, Ethel. Your mum was ill. Mine were just harsh people.
Maybe. Or maybe they just dont know how to love properly.
Three years later, a typical morning, Stan was getting ready for work when the phone rangGeorges voice.
Brother, dads in hospital. Stroke.
Something snapped inside Stan.
Seriously?
Doctors say might not pull through.
I see.
Will you come?
I dont know.
Stan, hes your father. Whatever happens.
He hung up. Ethel watched, eyes pleading.
Dads on the brink.
Go.
Why? He doesnt want me.
And you? You want him to go away?
Stan was silent, remembering childhood: his father teaching him to ride a bike, fishing on a lake, the firstgrade backpack and a firm hand on his shoulder.
When did the protector turn tyrant?
Go, Ethel urged. Later will be too late.
The hospital smelled of disinfectant. A gaunt, grey womanhis mothers sistersat in the corridor, clutching a thin coat. She leapt up at the sight of Stan.
Stanley! Youve come!
She hugged him; he stood like a statue, unmoving.
Hows dad?
Bad. Doctors give little hope.
Can I see him?
Hes unconscious, but they say he still hears.
The ward showed his father on a bed of tubes, drips, monitorsno longer a colonel, just a frail old man.
Stan sat beside him, took his withered handlight as a birds feather.
Dad, its me. Stan.
Silence. Only the beeping of machines.
I I need to say this. I was angry. I held a grudge for years. For throwing me out. For the indifference. For loving Billy more than me.
His hand trembled. Was it a dream?
But you know what? I forgive you. Hear that? I forgive you, for everything.
His fathers eyes fluttered open, cloudy yet recognisable.
Dad?
Lips moved. Stan leaned in.
forgive
A single word, barely audible, but Stan heard it clearly.
I forgive you, dad. Its alright.
His fathers eyes closed again, this time peacefully.
Stan stayed, holding his hand, talking about work, family, a grandson hed never meet.
That night his father passed quietly, as if in sleep. A whisper in the ward said hed been waitingfor forgiveness.
After the funeral, Stan and Ethel sat at home, sipping tea in silence.
How are you? she asked.
Strange. I thought Id be shattered. Inside its empty.
You did right, driving away.
You know, he actually said forgive for the first time in his life.
My pride crumbled before the world.
Mine too.
Ethel lifted her head.
Ethel, forgive yourself for Mum. She wouldnt have wanted you to suffer.
How do you know?
Because parents love their children. Even ones like my fathercrooked, painful, but loving. And they forgive everything.
Ethel wept. Stan embraced her, pulling her close.
Were both fools. We clung to hurts, gnawed at ourselves. We should have just just forgiven.
Now we know.
Now its too late for them. But were alive. We can live without that weight.
Outside, snow fellthe first of the seasonpure, white, like forgiveness, like a fresh page.
Stan thought of his father, of how earlier reconciliation could have saved years of anger.
Hed at least said the words. That was enough.
Be wise, learn to forgive, for parents are not eternal, and we cannot choose them
