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“Both times, I should and could have done more.”
I slowly shook my head, knowing I wouldn’t convince him otherwise. “Is there another way to see these events? With your college friend, the incident pushed him into rehab. He got the help he needed.”
“Did he?”
“His road is long and difficult, but it’s not yours. You said yourself you never expected a kid to throw a bomb at you in Madagascar.”
“I should have.”
“I’m just saying there are many ways to look at things. It might ease your conscience if you considered other angles.”
He didn’t answer, and I knew he didn’t want to see this another way.
I moved closer to him, straddling his lap. “I don’t know why you chose to tell me this tonight, but I appreciate that you trusted me enough to share it with me.”
I knew it wasn’t an easy thing for him to do.
“You don’t think differently of me?”
“Of course not. We all make mistakes, but I don’t think you’re to blame.”
I held my finger to his lips when I thought he was going to protest. “I know you feel differently, but I see it another way. I see someone who cares about the people around him, who does his best to protect them. But you’re not infallible. You’re not some superhero.”
“What if I want to be? What if I hold myself to a higher standard?”
“I guess I’d ask why. Why are you driven to feel this way? Is it useful? Or is it tearing you apart inside?” I knew it wasn’t healing him. His misguided sense of responsibility was keeping him locked in the past, unable to move on.
His shoulders set, he said, “It’s my past to bear.”
“What if you forgave yourself, and let your mind heal?”
He sucked in a breath.
“It doesn’t have to be like this.”
His eyes widened as he considered my words.
“You don’t have to decide tonight, but will you consider the possibility that you could forgive yourself of whatever transgressions you think are yours, and move on with your life?”
“It sounds too good to be true.”
“Oh. I almost forgot.” I scrambled off his lap, grabbing the box I’d picked up earlier. “I got something for you.”
Returning to my perch on his lap, I slowly opened the box.
“A necklace?”
“It’s a St. Michael’s pendant. People wear them to keep them safe.”
“Several of my colleagues wear them.”
“Will you wear it?” I wasn’t sure he would. But even if he kept it in a box by his bed, I’d be okay with that.
He nodded, and I slipped it over his head, holding the silver pendant between my fingers.
“Can we call on him to bless it, and ask him to keep you safe?”
“It only works when I wear it?”
