I nod. “That’s why I put off my training for so long.”
She gives a sad smile. “I’d never really had any goals other than to become your wife. It became my identity. Without you, I didn’t know who I was.”
For the first time, I’m starting to see things from her side. Sadly, while I’d never wanted her to lose herself, I’d enjoyed being her whole world. I now understand this was selfish of me.
“Then I found my job working with kids in bad home situations. I found meaning.” She tilts her head. “Which is something I did share with my coworkers.” She pauses, watching for my response.
I’m totally tracking. Though in the situation she’s describing, I’d felt replaced. Abandoned. Again. “That’s when I accused you of cheating. Because I mistook your shared purpose with a certain coworker as you choosing to make a different man happy.”
She rubs her lips together. “I tried to tell you then, but you claimed your mom had said the same thing before she left.”
“Ouch.” While Mom had left, Joey hadn’t. She’d grown and invited me to grow with her, but my fears had held me back.
This is why life is so confusing—liars and honest people say the exact same things. My dad had made the mistake of believing my mom, while I’d made the mistake of refusing to believe Joey. Perhaps my trust should have never been in her. It should have been in God, and I should have asked Him for direction rather than make assumptions.
She tips her head apologetically, though I’m the one who should apologize. I’d been so angry the last time we spoke. I’d said some nasty things, thinking she was in the wrong. “I’m sorry.”
Without pause, she says, “I forgive you.” She’d forgiven me long before I asked her to. Before I even knew I needed it. And no matter what I say or do now, I don’t think her forgiveness is something I could ever earn.
That’s how I need to forgive my mom. Perhaps she’d made her mistakes out of her own past hurts. And this cycle will continue unless I let it go the way Joey let me go.
Joey had once been so dear to me, and I realize it’s okay to polish off those tainted memories of our relationship and let them be endearing again. “If it helps, you’ve made me happy once again. Because I’m happy for you.”
Her smile is tremulous, her eyes shiny. “It helps.”
It’s too late for us. Our lives are in different places. My heart is in a different place. But this moment of closure is the parting gift we both needed.
I give her a hug and let her go for good.
Chapter Thirty-One
Claire
Flight isromance—not inthesense ofsexual attraction, butasanexperience that enriches life.
—STEPHENCOONTS
When the captain plans to rent a car and drive to Glacier Point from Fresno to watch the sunset after an early morning of flying, I’m the only one who agrees to go. It’s my first trip after the breakup. I’m still a little numb, and I could use a mountaintop moment to reflect. Plus, after seeing Half Dome from the sky with Nathan and discussing my missed chance to climb it, there’s no way I’m missing it now.
Cap is nice, but he never stops talking long enough to have a conversation. At one point he takes a breath, and I’m able to say, “My brothers hiked Half Dome, but they left me behind since I’m twenty years younger than they are and a kid at the time.”
He totally misses the personal information and goes off about how the chains have already been removed for winter so nobody can climb to the top of Half Dome right now anyway, and we’re lucky Glacier Point hasn’t been closed yet due to snow.
He regales me with stories like he’s Sparrow on speed. If I were returning home to my old crash pad, I’d take back some of these facts for her. Since I’m not, I tune out in favor of watching the stunning scenery.
We stop in Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias, which I remember fromchildhood. Teresa and I had our picture taken underneath the tunnel tree. Cap and I do not. I consider asking him to snap my photo, but he doesn’t stop talking long enough to give me a chance. Back into the Ford Focus we go.
I find peace in the majestic views of the valley below and snow-covered peaks above as we round hairpin turns ascending steep cliffs. We finally make it to the deserted parking lot—a perk of visiting in the offseason. I can’t see anything because we’re surrounded by pine trees, but there’s a pathway that leads to the viewpoint.
After climbing out of the vehicle and bundling up for a chill cold enough to sustain snow once it falls, the captain heads toward the restrooms, still talking.
“Hey, Cap,” I interrupt, pulling my phone from my coat pocket to use as an exhibit for needing time alone. “I’m going to go take pics.”
He nods and waves.
I turn toward the pathway and am surrounded with silence as comforting as a quilt. I follow the trail lined with a split-rail fence. The forest parts to reveal a grander view. Slate peaks are separated by deep pockets of trees and streaked with rivers and waterfalls. It’s all displayed before the backdrop of a setting sun. And right at the center stands Half Dome. Majestic. Unparalleled.
I tromp down a few steps to stand in awe at the viewing platform, too immersed to take photos. Not that any camera could capture the moment. The best part of art is its experience.
