“You did hurt me,” she says, her voice less sure, less hard. “I thought we…”
I know what she thought.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her again.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to apologize at all. Of course, there is. She hurt me, too. Tried to publicly embarrass me. Tried to damage my reputation. She was in the wrong. At this point, though, I’m more concerned about making things right than I am about being right.
“Are you…” She inhales sharply like someone does before they take an icy plunge. “Are you serious? About her, I mean?”
“Yes.” Lying won’t help. “I care about her a lot.”
“So that shit you said, about telling her things you don’t tell anyone else, you weren’t saying it just to get at me? You’ve opened up to her?”
“I have. I do.”
“I always wondered what that would look like,” she says, her voice softening around the edges some, almost wistful. “Canon Holt, open.”
“Do you remember what it was like when you first started, Mille? Before things got this big and before you felt like you were living in a den of vipers. That feeling of just loving the work and being grateful for a shot?”
“Yeah, I remember. It’s been a long time, but I remember.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t want her caught in the middle. She shouldn’t be. Your problem, your real problem, was with me, and I’m saying I’m sorry.”
“Because of her you’re saying you’re sorry.”
“No, because of you I’m saying I’m sorry. Yes, I want this to stop, but also, I hurt you and I’m sorry.”
“So I guess now I’m supposed to apologize, too?” We used to make each other laugh, and some of that humor shows in her words.
“I won’t hold my breath.” I chuckle. “But know that when I say it, I mean it.”
“Yeah, well…” She sighs, her voice soft if not humble. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Thank you,” I tell her as I arrive at my house and pull into the garage. I park and wait for her next move because I’m out of them.
“So a truce, huh?” she asks.
“I’d like that, yeah.”
“Alright, whatever,” she says, her voice going brisk. “Truce.”
FORTY-EIGHT
Dessi Blue
June 1939 – THE FRENCH RIVIERA – HOTEL DU CAP
EXTERIOR – BEACH – DAY
The shore is crowded with people sunbathing and swimming. Dessi and Cal lounge on the sand beneath a large umbrella, both in swimwear typical of the 1930s. Sheet music is spread on the blanket between them, along with a basket of fruit, cheese, and wine.
DESSI
Why you gotta write all these sad songs, Cal?
CAL (LAUGHING)
Now you know you lying. Look at this one. It’s happy.
