- Books, Literature, and Writing»
- Commercial & Creative Writing»
- Creative Writing
You Have the Gall to Ask Me That?
“Cath it’s me, Marvin.”
The mere sound of my ex-husband’s voice caused my blood to simmer and my arthritis to flare. For a moment I couldn’t see anything. I slammed the receiver into the phone cradle. When the phone rung again, I scolded myself for not having Caller ID. I figured it was a student wanting to reschedule. Surely it wasn’t Marvin calling back. After the third ring the answering machine clicked on.
“Cathy please pick up,” urged Marvin.
I gave in and picked up the phone. “What is it?” I snapped.
“Did you get my letter?”
“I have it.” In fact, it was laying on my lap. He’d written I was the love of his life. The rest of the scribble was a toxic rant against Nicole. She’d left him for another man. I gloated when I read that part. I was simply delighted karma had repaid him.
“I’m sorry about our messy divorce.”
I was kind of puzzled by his apology since the divorce was four years ago. “What do you want Marvin?”
“Cath can you forgive me?”
“You have the gall to ask me that?” Perhaps one day I thought. Besides cheating on me with Nicole. You rat, you hid half of our assets when I filed for the divorce. I just can't do it. For the last four years, I've cradled my resentment in my arms like an infant. I've watered it. I've fertilized it. I've talked to it.
Its limbs and branches reach into deep space. And its roots plow through the Earth’s rocky mantle. Its fruit have given me grit, spunk, and fueled my determination to start a music school. I was such a fool to give up my teaching career to help build your business. “I think -”
“Remember how I used to run through a pack of cigs a day?”
“The doc says I have cancer.”
I gasped on hearing the awful news. It indeed had taken plenty of guts for him to write the letter and to call. "Oh Marvin."
“Cath, I wanna make my peace with you before -” His voice cracked.
The sincerity of his words broke my steel armor into, pierced my condemnation, and snuffed out my wrath. A river of hot tears drenched my face. The pain in my arthritic joints tapered off. The chamber doors of my heart opened and a swarm of locusts flew out. They circled the living room before fleeing through the bay window. “I forgive you, Marvin," leaped from my throat.
Are You Holding a Grudge Against Someone About Something that Happened Years Ago?
© 2015 Irma Cowthern