Chapter 13 - THE FINAL PAYMENT
13
Daniel made his final restitution payment seventeen years after the dinner.
Seventeen years.
Long enough that the original debt felt like another lifetime.
He sent no announcement.
Court system mailed notices to victims.
My portion small final.
$4,812.
I stared at check.
Jonah asked:
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know.”
Money felt contaminated symbolically though legally clean.
I considered charity.
Then stopped.
Old me turned every complex feeling into generosity obligation.
Maybe I could use for myself.
I bought something I had wanted for years.
A piano.
I played badly.
Why piano?
As a child, lessons.
Stopped for college.
Always said someday.
$4,812 plus own money bought upright piano.
Jonah laughed:
“Daniel bought you piano eventually.”
“No.”
“Restitution.”
“My money returned.”
Important.
I took lessons.
Bad.
Joy.
That felt more healing than donating.
Theresa, now assisted living, came one afternoon.
I played “Blue Moon” badly.
She clapped anyway.
“You’re terrible.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled.
Then serious.
“I’m glad you spent on you.”
Me too.
Daniel learned through Aaron.
He wrote:
Good choice.
No more.
Later Theresa’s health declined.
We gathered.
Daniel primary son care now.
Aaron too.
I visited as friend.
She asked one evening:
“Did you ever forgive me?”
“Yes.”
She cried.
“All?”
“No.”
She laughed.
“Fair.”
“What part not?”
“I don’t keep categories.”
Truth.
“I forgave enough to be here.”
She squeezed hand.
“I’m sorry about plate.”
Of course final concern.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry I believed him instead of asking you.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry I liked hurting you.”
That honesty.
“Thank you.”
She died weeks later.
Funeral.
Daniel and Aaron spoke.
I sat with Jonah.
No complicated role.
Daniel said in eulogy:
“My mother spent much of her life confusing being provided for with being loved. Later she learned to live smaller and love better.”
Good.
No saint.
After service, Aaron hugged.
“Family got weird.”
I laughed.
“Yes.”
Daniel asked:
“Coffee sometime?”
“Maybe.”
We did months later.
Friends? Not exactly.
Former spouses with resolved history.
He never remarried.
Maybe dated.
Fine.
He asked about piano.
I said terrible.
He said:
“Can’t be worse than my investments.”
I laughed unexpectedly.
Dark humor earned.
Then he said:
“I used to think final payment would make me feel free.”
“Doesn’t?”
“No.”
“What does?”
“Not hiding.”
Good.
We sat.
May you like
That might be last deep conversation.
I had no need more.
