“You were joking around, weren't you?”
“I thought I was.”
“Then it was a mistake.”
“It was a choice.”
“I chose to ignore her. I wanted to impress my friends. I wanted to prove I could control the situation. I hurt someone because I couldn't tolerate being told no.”
“I didn't raise you to hurt women.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you talking as if you're some kind of monster?”
Brandon struggled to answer.
Because he was tired of treating every criticism as an attack. Because he was tired of needing someone else to tell him that his behavior had not been as bad as it looked. Because he was beginning to understand that accepting responsibility did not require him to decide he was beyond redemption.
“I'm not saying I'm a monster,” he said. “I'm saying I did something wrong, and I don't want to keep making excuses for it.”
His father looked uncomfortable. For several seconds, Brandon thought the conversation would end in an argument.
“I suppose I never taught you much about what to do when you lose.”
Brandon looked at him.
“No.”
“I thought making you tough would protect you.”
“Maybe it did, sometimes.”
“And the rest of the time?”
“The rest of the time, I thought being tough meant I never had to admit I was wrong.”
Lily was standing in the college hallway when she opened the email. Around her, students crowded near the classroom doors, comparing schedules and complaining about assignments. Someone had spilled coffee near the vending machines. A printer was making an unpleasant grinding noise in the office down the hall.
Not by an extraordinary margin, and not with the perfect score she had secretly hoped for, but she had passed. The grade was enough to keep her on track for the next stage of her nursing prerequisites.
“Good news?”
“I passed.”
“Congratulations!”
“Thank you.”
Lily sent a message to her mother, then one to Miguel. She considered telling Walter, but he did not use a phone as reliably as the rest of the world seemed to expect. Instead, she decided she would tell him in person.
She walked out of the college building feeling lighter than she had in weeks.
At Miller's Corner Diner, Miguel was preparing the lunch specials when Lily walked through the door.
“I have news.”
“Good news or the kind that requires me to sit down?”
“Good news.”
“Then I can stand.”
“I passed my exam.”
“Excellent! This calls for a celebration.”
“Please don't make a scene.”
“I would never.”
He turned toward the kitchen.
“Everybody! Lily passed!”
“Miguel!”
Lily laughed despite her embarrassment.
“I passed.”
Walter looked briefly confused.
“Passed what?”
“My exam. The biology exam I was studying for.”
“Lily, that's wonderful.”
“I was so nervous I almost didn't open the email.”
“And yet you did.”
“Eventually.”
“An important distinction.”
“Could you try to be happy without turning everything into a lesson?”
“I can try.”
He held out his hand.
“Congratulations.”
She shook it, then surprised herself by giving him a quick hug. Walter stiffened for half a second before returning it gently.
When she stepped back, she saw that his eyes had grown slightly moist.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Perfectly.”
“You look like you're about to cry.”
“I have something in my eye.”
“Of course.”
“Possibly the entire weather system.”
She laughed, and he smiled.
That afternoon, after the lunch rush, Lily sat at the counter with a notebook and began planning the next semester. She calculated tuition, reviewed her work schedule, and wrote down the deadlines she needed to meet. The list was long, and some of the numbers made her anxious.
Walter sat in the booth nearby, writing notes for the next community session. He had started keeping a small journal of the questions participants asked. Some concerned physical safety, but others were about embarrassment, uncertainty, and the fear of making a situation worse by intervening.
Not the details of every assignment or the technical aspects of his former career, but the times he had allowed pride to influence his judgment. The times he had assumed he knew what another person needed without asking. The years he had withdrawn because he was afraid that his limitations had made him useless.
People listened differently when he spoke about those experiences.
Lily closed her notebook.
“Walter?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think I'll ever stop thinking about that night completely?”
“I don't know.”
“You could at least pretend to have a reassuring answer.”
“I could. But I don't think you need another person telling you what your recovery is supposed to look like.”
“Sometimes I feel as though I should be further along.”
“Further along according to whom?”
Walter continued, “You passed your exam. You've returned to work. You're planning your next semester. You have difficult days, but you're still moving forward. Why would you measure all of that against an imaginary schedule?”