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He studied me quietly for a moment, and I could have sworn I saw a flicker of shame in his gaze. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Biggest mistake of my life. I’m sorry you found out.”
“Why? It’s the truth.”
He took a short breath. “I know. If I could change the past, I would. I'm sure it affects what you think of me.”
“Of course, it does. You were married. My mom was married. You were friends with my father.”
Mr. Green acknowledged this with a nod. “You have every right to be upset. I broke my own trust.”
“What do you mean?”
“I try to live with integrity, and life is messy and complicated. We all make mistakes. That's a big one for me, and I can't repair it. I can say I learned from it.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Jenny and I were in a difficult place at the time. If you ever get married or have a long-term relationship—by that, I mean, a decade or two—you learn that people change. You learn that you have to fall in love with each other again and again as you grow. You learn that commitment truly does mean through the good, the bad, and so on and so forth. There are good years and challenging years. Sometimes, the grass looks greener. Clichés become clichés because they tend to be accurate. I made a huge mistake, and I regret it deeply,” he said solemnly.
“How does Jenny feel now?”
“I'm still working to regain her trust.”
“That was five years ago,” I pointed out.
“I know. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to regain her trust. As for your father, he tells me he's forgiven me, but our friendship will never be the same. If anything, it’s because it's hard for me to live with what I did.”
“My mom was a bright light.” I heard myself saying. It was something my father had said many times.
“She was. And, unfortunately, I feel like I hurt her too.”
“What?” I sputtered, confused.
Mr. Green took a deep breath, and I saw his hands tighten where they rested on the handle of his shopping cart. “Your mom was always looking for something, or someone else, to fill the places that felt empty inside. I can only answer for myself, but I never intended for it to be anything more than it was, and that was very shallow. I think your mom was always looking for something more.”
“My dad was something more.” Bitterness laced every single word in that sentence.
I saw the understanding flickering in Mr. Green’s eyes, and it made me angry because that was the understanding that I’d loved about him. “Your dadwassomething more, and he still is. I'm sorry your mom couldn't see it. And I'm sorry I couldn’t see far enough ahead to realize the damage I was doing. To Jenny, to your father, to you, to Tiffany, to myself, and to anyone who thought I was better than that. I can only hope someday you'll forgive me.”
The surface of my heart stung as if an old scar had been torn. I’d spent too many years trying to get something from my mother, something more. While my sister had become the runner, I’d become the pleaser.
“If you want to keep talking, we can,” Mr. Green said.
Just then, someone else turned into the aisle. I shook my head, squaring my shoulders and holding his gaze. “Thanks for being honest.”
“You know where to find me if you want to talk more.”
That was something he used to say in school. Back then, I could find him in his classroom with the rock and roll posters and world maps from different eras in history decorating the walls.
“Thank you.”
I moved past him, trying to ignore the achy throb of my heart. I was tired, weary from the years of coming to terms with my mother’s actions, and frustrated with how she still managed to twist me up inside even when she wasn’t here.
