All That Mattered

It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same.  Her eyes locked onto the familiar face across the dining room.  After all this time he’d changed as little as the façade of his award-winning restaurant.  Only slightly gray around the edges of his face with deepened crows feet and those lovable laugh lines.  The cleft in his chin was still as defined.  His eyes just as sparkling as always, even at this distance.    

She practiced the opening line of her speech one more time as she slowly made her way toward the bar.  She tightened her grip on her purse strap to prevent her fingers from trembling any worse than they were already.  It wasn’t going to be easy, but she felt obligated—no, compelled.  That wasn’t right either.  She felt captive, enslaved to the desire to speak to him this time. 

She sat near the opposite end of the bar from him, waiting for him to notice her, hoping he would recognize her.  Had she changed as little as he had?  She looked up at the mirror across from her, between the bottles and glasses.  The fragments she saw of herself told a story too long to relate over casual drinks.  That was why she’d practiced her speech so ardently.  He had to know certain truths about what had happened twenty-four years ago before he was able to jump to conclusions and assume the worst.  Who was she kidding?  He’d spent the last twenty-four years drawing the conclusion he assumed was true.  She’d already done the unthinkable.  That’s why she was here.  

The restaurant was crowded, as usual, or so she’d heard and read over the last two decades.  He was a smart business man, an incredible chef, and a superlative host.  She’d never wondered at his success through the years as she kept tabs on him.  

He was nearing her end of the counter, reaching underneath for a napkin as he spoke his first words to her.  “Good evening, ma’am.  Have you been to ‘For the Love of Cod’ before?”  He glanced at her before grabbing an empty glass, but it didn’t cause a reaction.  

“Um, not inside.”  

He froze for a moment before slowly standing erect, right in front of her.  He took a deep breath, and she thought she saw a hint of mist in his eyes as they met hers.  

“I didn’t see you at first.  I knew your voice.  You look wonderful, Vi.  Barely changed.”  He was making his way around the end of the bar toward her.  

She stood from her stool, and they embraced.  It wasn’t stiff.  It was warm.  It was friendly.  It was home.  

“I was thinking the same of you, Bret.”  

He stood back from her and examined her features from head to toe.  “Violet Turner.”  He shook his head and scoffed softly.  “I truly thought I’d never see you again.”  

She half smiled.  “I’ve stood outside the front door of this place a dozen times.”  

He looked hurt.  

“Bret, I have—” 

His attention was drawn away from her.  “Just a sec, Vi.  Mike!  Mike, cover me for a ten, will you?” 

Violet looked down the counter at the bartender who gave Bret a nod.  He took her by the arm and motioned to the dining area.  “Come on, I’ll get us a table.”  

“But Bret, I have to—” 

He motioned to the hostess.  “Cheri, I’m taking this one for ten, okay?”  

“Fine by me, but you know how Kristen gets about her tables.”  

“If she makes one peep you get me.”  He winked at her.  

Cheri smiled and shook her head as she disappeared through the crowd, back to her post.   

Bret pulled a chair out for Violet.  They weren’t very secluded for what she had to say, but it would have to do.  She couldn’t wait anymore.  She opened her mouth to speak, but he obviously didn’t want to hear it.   

“What are you doing back in Boston?  Last I heard you were in California.  San Diego, wasn’t it?”  

“Uh, San Jose, actually, but—” 

“Oh, wow.  Like, from the song?”  

“Yeah, I guess.  Bret, I need to tell you—” 

“I’d like to vacation in California sometime.  You recommend it?”  

“Well—yes, but—vacation?”  She was losing control before she even got started.  “Bret, I didn’t come here to make small talk with you.” 

Bret sighed and blinked at her.  “Why did you come here then, Vi?”  

“I came to apologize.” 

“Apologize?  After all these years?”  

“Yes.  And to explain—” 

“Then you’re wasting your time.  I haven’t been waiting twenty-four years for an apology or an explanation.”  He rose from the table and walked back in the direction of the bar.  

She followed close at his heels. “What do you mean ‘waiting?’”

He walked beyond the bar through an impact traffic door that led to the kitchen.  Violet was temporarily distracted by how impressed she was at the respect he commanded from his staff as he barked out some orders while walking toward his office.   

She followed him still as he passed his office and walked out the back door into a dimly lit alley. 

“Ah, so this is what’s it’s come to then.  Murdering me with one of your kitchen knives and ditching me in your dumpster?”  She laughed.  

Bret did not laugh.  He turned toward her with his eyes on fire.  “This isn’t a joke, Vi!  I was doing just fine.  I was making it work.  I’ve been making it work for twenty-four years.  It’s been a quarter of a century!  Why do you suddenly want to apologize and explain things now?  I’ve long buried my pain and you can’t—you don’t have a right to it anymore.”  

His intensity almost frightened her, but not enough to make her forget her purpose.  The opportunity to make her rehearsed speech was long gone.  Their conversation hadn’t unfolded at all like she’d planned.  She would have to go off cuff now, straight from her heart.  

“Bret, I’ve wanted to apologize for years.  Ever since that night.  I just didn’t know how.”  

He rolled his eyes.  “You finally learned?”  

“Stop it!  You don’t know what I went though!”  

He pointed a flexed finger at her and then at himself.  “You don’t know what I went through, Vi!”  

She wouldn’t be hindered.  “When we lost Gabriella—”. 

She could see every muscle in his neck tense as he spit his words.  “You lost Gabriella.  I lost my daughter and my wife.”  

“I didn’t know what to do!” 

“Neither did I, but I knew enough not to blame you and leave.”  

“I never blamed you.” 

“Not in words, but what was I supposed to think when you left?”  

Violet blinked slowly, causing a few tears to spill over.  “Oh, Bret, I’m sorry.”  

Bret sighed heavily and turned his back to her.  She wondered if he was hiding his own tears.  “Well, it’s water under the bridge.”  She heard him sniffle.  “And no use—no sense rehashing everything now.”  

“We were so young, Bret.  I was only eighteen!  I know you were twenty-two, but even still!  Eighteen’s young to get married anyway, but a stillbirth the very next year?  And you’d just opened your restaurant.  I was alone every night.  It was just too much, and I—”

She saw him hold up his hand toward her.  “Please stop.  I don’t want to relive it.  Once was enough.”  She watched his head roll back and he looked toward the dark sky.  “Though it’s not like I don’t relive it in my head almost everyday anyway.”    

Violet took a step toward him.  She spoke as tenderly as she could.  “Bret?”  She took more steps toward him until she was an arm’s length away.  “Bret, what did you mean when you said you hadn’t been waiting twenty-four years for an apology?”  She gently rested her hand on his arm.  “What have you been waiting for?” 

Bret slowly turned to face her.  His eyes were red and wet to match hers.  He stared into her eyes for a long time and then instinctively reached down and pulled his wallet chain from his pocket.  There was a full key ring on the end of it, and he fiddled with it until there was a single gold band around the end of his index finger.  He held it in her direction.    

Violet gasped softly as she examined the trinket.  “Bret, I left after we lost Gabriella because I didn’t know what to do or how to cope with the deep pain of the loss I was feeling.  I thought I needed to rediscover myself or reinvent myself to get the hurt out of me, but it never went away.  When I finally realized how wrong I was, and that I should’ve clung to you and leaned on you, and you could’ve done the same to me—we could’ve helped each other.  When I finally realized that, I was too scared to come back.  I was too scared to find out that you were probably happily moved on with—” 

Was that compassion she saw in his eyes?  

“As time passed, just, more time passed until it was so long I didn’t know if I ever could come back.  It took a while, but eventually I started coming home.  Every year I’ve made more and more trips back to try to speak to you, and each time I got closer and closer, but tonight was the first time I’ve had enough gumption to walk through the door.  It took me twenty-four years, three months, and sixteen days.”  She reached under the neckline of her sweater and pulled out the pendant of her necklace.  It was a small gold band.  “I haven’t been waiting twenty-four years for your forgiveness.”  

Bret took her hand in his and closed it around the wedding ring that hung from her neck.  He bent his forehead down to meet hers, and they stood in silence until Mike came looking for him.  

It wasn’t easy.  It wasn’t like magic.  It wasn’t even quite like riding a bicycle.  Love is hard, and it takes time and commitment.  But it was a start.  They’d healed separately, but now they needed to heal together.  She’d walked a lonely path the last twenty-four years, and her leaving had forced him to do the same.  They had a long road still to travel, but they could do it together, knowing that their love for each other had never wavered.  Pride and fear had been her enemies until now, but she’d finally come home for good, and that was all that mattered.