Chapter 13 - Julian’s Apology Revealed He Still Hadn’t Understood
Three weeks later, Julian asked to meet.
I agreed.
Public coffee shop.
No chance of:
reconciliation.
I wanted closure.
Bad word.
But I wanted:
answers.
He arrived with:
a handwritten letter.
He said:
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“Everything.”
“No.”
“Specific.”
He looked frustrated.
Then:
“I shouldn’t have thrown the flower.”
“Yes.”
“I shouldn’t have talked to your dad that way.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know who he was.”
There.
Again.
I leaned back.
“What if he had been exactly who you thought he was?”
Julian frowned.
“What?”
“A sixty-one-year-old grounds worker.”
“No military career.”
“No pension.”
“No stars.”
“No Commander Reed.”
“Would you still be sorry?”
Silence.
Long.
Then:
“I was under pressure.”
I almost smiled.
There was my answer.
I asked:
“Why did finding out Dad was a general embarrass you?”
“Because I looked stupid.”
“Exactly.”
“Not because you were cruel.”
He said:
“That’s unfair.”
“No.”
“It’s the whole problem.”
Julian stared.
I continued.
“You don’t regret believing a gardener was beneath you.”
“You regret discovering the gardener had a résumé you respect.”
He had no response.
I stood.
He said:
“Clara.”
I stopped.
“I love you.”
I believed:
him.
That was the sad part.
Love does not automatically correct:
character.
I answered:
“I loved you too.”
May you like
Then left.
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