Dont invite them, you hear me? Not under any pretext! my brother shouted, his voice sharp.
Its my birthday, Tom. Thirtyfive is a proper milestone, I retorted, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my tone.
Whatever. I dont want to see them, he snapped.
How long has it been, Tom? Ten years have passed, I said, trying to soften the edge.
And another ten will go by, then twenty. To me theyre already dead, he muttered, clenching his fists. He was still clutching at the old wounds of our parents.
Emily slipped onto the sofa beside me and took my handwarm, tense. She always did that when the conversation turned to family.
James called earlier. He asked if he could come, she whispered.
Harry, yes. One person. No one else, I answered.
He said his mother was crying. She wants to see you, Emily said.
Let her cry. Where was she when they threw me out of the house? When I was forced to bounce between friends flats? I grew louder.
It was the same story Emily knew by heart: my second year at university, a disastrous exam period, my dismissal. My father, a retired colonel with a reputation for steel, had told me, Dishonour the family and youre out. And I was outcast out into nothing.
Youve turned things around. You finished a different course, got a job, Emily reminded me.
On my own, without them. And Harry later bought a flat and a car. His favourite! I laughed bitterly.
Dont be angry at your brother. Hes not to blame, she pleaded.
Im not angry, but I dont want to see my parents, not even at the doorstep, I said.
Emily sighed. It was the same futile conversation we always fell into.
That evening I washed the dishes and thought of my mother, whom I hadnt seen for three years before she died. I remembered the endless punishments, the humiliation, the night I fled to another town and changed my number.
Then a call came from my aunt: my mother had passed away from liver failure. She was the only one left in the hospital ward.
Even now, in the dead of night, I hear my mothers voice:
Emily, forgive me, she would say, though the line always cut out.
Whats on your mind? I asked, feeling a hand on my shoulder.
About Mum, I answered.
Are you still beating yourself up? she asked.
I cant stop. I should have come back, at least to say goodbye, I confessed.
She was draining you, Emily! She was squandering your scholarship, my brother interjected.
But she was ill. A love of strong drink is a disease, I retorted.
And what? Thats an excuse? he huffed.
No. I could have forgiven her. Its too late now, I whispered.
Tom turned me to face him.
Dont torment yourself. You did what you could. You saved yourself, he said.
And you lost your soul, I muttered.
Nonsense. You have the brightest soul I know, he replied, kissing my temple. I leaned into him, grateful for his steady presence, even though he didnt fully understand what it felt like to live with such a burden.
We decided to keep the birthday celebration at home. Fifteen guestsclose friends, colleagues, and James with his wifewere invited.
From early morning Emily bustled around the kitchen, preparing salads, heating the oven, and ordering a cake. I helpedchopping vegetables, setting the table.
Harry will really be the only one coming, right? I asked between tasks.
He promised, Emily replied.
Good, I said.
By seven, guests began to arrive. James turned up at half past seven, followed by two more people squeezing through the front door.
My fathera silverhaired, upright man in a dark suitstood stiffly. My mother, petite in a floral dress, clutched a small box.
I froze, a bottle in my hand.
What does this mean? I asked, bewildered.
My dear Tom my mother stepped forward.
I didnt invite you, I said.
Were here on our own, my father growled. We have a right to be here!
You have no right! James shouted. What are you doing here?
Brother, relax. Theyre my parents, Emily tried to calm the room.
I dont care! Get out! my father barked.
The room went deadquiet. Some guests clutched glasses, others plates, as an awkward silence settled over us.
Tom, its not worth it, Emily whispered, touching my hand.
No, it is! I snapped, standing up. Youve known me for ten years! You ignored my wedding! You refuse to recognise my grandson! And now you show up?
My mother wanted to wish you happy birthday, my mother said, holding out the little box.
Throw your greetings away! I dont want anything from you! I shouted.
Stanley, enough of this drama! my father roared. Behave like a man!
How did you teach me? To throw out a son who stumbled?
You disgraced the family! he shouted.
I was a student! Just an ordinary student who failed an exam! I protested.
Because of parties and girls! he accused.
And what? Thats a reason to cast your son out? I retorted.
My mother began to sob. My fathers cheeks flushed.
We gave you a lesson! he snarled.
You ruined my life! If it hadnt been for Emily and my friends, where would I be? I yelled.
Dont exaggerate! I survived! he snapped.
I survived without you! And Ill keep surviving! I declared.
James tried to intervene. Please, calm down. The guests
Let them leave! I turned to the doorway. Both of you, out!
My father straightened even more.
Well then. I finally know Ive made the right decision. All my assets will go to James, down to the last penny. Youll be left with nothing! he declared.
Your money means nothing to me! I shot back.
Well see how you sing when Im gone, he threatened.
Enough! my mother cried, wiping her eyes.
The parents stalked out, my mother sniffing, my father marching with a stiff gait. James followed them, pleading, trying to reason.
Silence hung heavy in the room.
Sorry, everyone, I said to the remaining guests. Family squabbles.
Its all right, it happens, someone replied, attempting to lighten the mood.
But the celebration was ruined. The guests drifted away, leaving only James, pale and dejected.
What did you bring them here for? I asked, exhausted.
I thought maybe youd reconcile. Mum asked, James said weakly.
Let her ask all she wants. It makes no difference to me, I replied.
Brother, thats not right. Theyre old now, James protested.
And so what? Old age is an excuse? I scoffed.
My father mentioned his will seriously. He wont leave me anything, James said.
And thank God. I dont need his handouts, I muttered.
James left. Emily quietly cleared the table. I sank onto the sofa, face pressed into my palms.
Did I do the right thing? I asked her.
I dont know. But I understand you, she answered.
They didnt even apologise. They just showed up as if nothing had happened.
Pride wont let you see that.
My pride? Could they have trampled me?
Emily sat beside me and embraced me.
We cant be trampled. Sometimes sometimes its better to forgive before its too late, she said.
Hows your mother?
Fine, I answered.
Thats another story, Emily. Yours was illness, mine just hardened people, she replied.
Maybe they just dont know how to love differently, I mused.
Three years later, a normal morning, I was getting ready for work when the phone rang it was James.
Tom, Dads in hospital. Stroke.
Something inside me cracked.
Are you serious?
The doctors say it might be irreversible, he said.
I dont know if I can go, I replied.
Tom, hes your father. No matter what, James urged.
I hung up. Emily looked at me, questioning.
Dads on the brink.
Go, she said.
Why? He doesnt even want me, I muttered.
And you? Do you want him to die like that? she shot back.
Silence swallowed me. I remembered my childhood: Dad teaching me to ride a bike, fishing by the lake, the firstgrade backpack and his steady hand.
When did it change? When the protector became a tyrant?
Drive, Emily pressed. Itll be too late otherwise.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic. My mother, frail and grey, sat in the corridor. When she saw me, she clutched her hands.
Tom! Youre here! she exclaimed, hugging me.
I stood there, rooted, unable to speak.
Hows Dad?
Bad. The doctors theyre not giving us hope, she whispered.
Can I see him?
Hes unconscious, but they say he can hear us, the nurse said.
I sat beside the bed. My father lay there, tubes and monitors beeping, a onceformidable colonel reduced to a frail old man.
I took his cold hand, trembling like a birds wing.
Dad, its me. Tom, I whispered.
Only the soft whir of machines filled the room.
I I need to say this. I was angry at you for years. For kicking me out, for being indifferent, for loving Harry more than me, I confessed, my voice cracking.
His fingers twitched. Did I imagine it?
But you know what? I forgive you. I forgive you, Dad. For everything, I said, tears spilling.
His eyes opened, cloudy but fixed on me. He seemed to recognise.
Dad?
His lips moved, barely audible.
…forg he murmured.
Forgive, I heard faintly. It was enough.
He closed his eyes again, his face finally at peace.
I stayed, holding his hand, talking about work, about family, about the grandson he never got to meet.
He passed away that night, quietly, as if he had finally found the peace hed been denied. My mother later said hed been waiting for forgiveness.
After the funeral, Emily and I sat at home, sipping tea in silence.
How are you holding up? she asked.
It feels strange. I thought Id be relieved, but theres an emptiness inside, I admitted.
You did the right thing, driving up, she said.
His forgive was the first time anyones ever said that to me, I whispered.
My pride shattered before the whole world, she replied.
Yes. Mine too.
Emily lifted her head. Tom, forgive yourself for the past with Mum. She wouldnt want you to keep hurting yourself.
How do you know? I asked.
Because parents love their children, even the flawed, painful ones. They love in their own twisted way, but they love. And they can forgive everything.
Emily began to cry. I pulled her close, holding her tight.
Were both fools, clinging to old wounds, gnawing at ourselves. We should have simply simply forgiven, I said.
Now we know, she whispered.
Its too late for them, I said. But were still alive. We can live without that burden.
Outside, snow fellfirst snow of the year, pure and white, like forgiveness, like a fresh page. I thought of my father, of how much sooner we could have mended things, how much time was wasted on bitterness.
At least we said it now. At least we heard it. And that was enough.
