Door Number Three

"Bev, this is Jack. I have something of yours, and I want to give it back." I was calling the halfway house where Bev now resided. For several seconds, I didn't know if she'd heard me. There was no response.

"Beverly, I have a shoe box to give you. Do you hear me? Can we meet someplace so I can return it?"

I thought she might hang up, but eventually she spoke. "Where? When?"

"I don't care. We can meet somewhere neutral, like a restaurant, or you can come by the house. Whatever you want. On Sunday, maybe. You available on Sunday?"

She was silent some more. "I'll be by on Sunday at 2 o'clock." The phone went dead.

+++++++++++++++++

How do you go about getting ready for a meeting with your ex-wife, the mother of your child, the woman who tried to kill you, and a convicted felon? I made lemonade and cookies and dressed casual.

I opened the door for Bev, and there was no attempt by either of us to even shake hands, much less hug. We just said 'hello' and I motioned her into the den.

Her hair was much shorter than before, and her look was hard. Not much makeup, if any. She was now a woman of 50, and she looked every bit of it.

On the coffee table were drinks, cookies, and the shoe box. She sat opposite the couch and I offered her refreshments, which she declined. Did she suspect I'd try to poison her?

"Okay, if you don't want lemonade and cookies, I guess the only other thing is the shoe box, and anything we might have to say to each other."

"What's the catch, Jack? What do you want in return? Is there anything left in it?" She was still very suspicious of me.

"No catch, Bev. It's all there, except for a few thousand I put with some of my money and gave to Patty when she got married, for a down payment on her home. If you want, she will gladly start paying you that money back anytime you like."

From Bev's face, I could tell that she didn't know Patty was married.

"Patty's married for 2 years now, and you're a grandmother."

I could see the strain in her eyes, and I knew she was fighting back emotion.

"The little girl's name is Shannon Beverly Evans. Shannon is the name of her other grandmother."

Bev's eyes were filling up now, despite her best efforts.

"Bev, I know you haven't been in contact with Patty for some time. There is a path for you two to make connections again. If you'd like, I can pave the way for you..."

Beverly nodded, and the tears were now running down her cheek. I reached to the side table for a box of tissues, which I placed on the coffee table.

"So, I'll give you a short version of what's happened with me, unless you plan to leave right away?" She was wiping her cheek and trying to compose herself.

"Patty found a great guy. Stan Evans. He's into computers and networks. They seem to really work well together. She is a great mom, and they are so devoted to each other.

"Martha and I didn't last but a few months. She's too young for me, and she just needed me temporarily until she could get on with her life. She found another soldier, and she moved away. I date some, but I break things off if it looks like a relationship is beginning. I'm better off by myself. I'll stay single.

There was silence for a bit.

"I'm going to say some things now that are strictly for my benefit, but you might get something out of them. I hope you do.

"I couldn't wait to see you in jail. I hated you and pictured you dead many times. And then when they locked you up, my feelings began to change. I found that I couldn't enjoy my victory, if that's what it was.

"So, I quit hating you. Even though you didn't ask me to, I forgave you. The reason is that I know you're not 100% to blame. I failed to understand you until it was too late, and we never could communicate with each other. We only fought."

Beverly had regained her composure and looked up from the floor. Her hard edge was back. Still, she didn't speak.

"That's really about it. Short and sweet. Unless you have things to say to me, and if you don't care for refreshments, I won't keep you any longer. You probably have important stuff to do."

She stood and picked up the box. As she headed toward the front door, for the first time since I pushed her out years before, I called to her.

"It doesn't make any difference now, and you don't need to answer unless you want to. But I'm wondering. All that time we were together, and especially that last day you were here, it was obvious that you saw me as weak. Do you still think I'm weak, Bev?"

She stopped, one hand on the door knob, and looked back at me.

"I hate you. You're cruel, and you destroyed my life." She paused. "But I don't think you're weak."

And then she was gone.

[Author's note: I write this stuff for my own amusement, and I don't care a thing about how many points a story gets. I also don't read comments, as most of them only prove the sorry state of literacy and rational thought in society today.]