nods back. That’s all. That’s enough.
He asked me once, a few months ago, if I’d ever forgive him.
“I’m working on it,” I said. And it’s true. I am.
But forgiveness isn’t the same thing as going back. I learned that. You can forgive someone and still lock the door. You can wish someone well and still not let them in. For a long time, I thought those two things had to go together. That if you really forgave someone, you had to let them
back into your life, into your house, into your bed. That’s what my mother taught me. That’s what that’s just Rachel was, really. Forgiveness that never asked for anything back.
It turns out that’s not forgiveness. That’s just letting people walk on you and calling it love.
Rachel and I talk now. Not much. Maybe once a month. Short phone calls. She asks about the kids. I ask about her job. She’s working at a dental office now, at the front desk. She’s still seeing the counselor. She’s taking a pottery class on Thursday nights.
