For Lucy

by Jewel E. Ann

“No matter how undeserving one might feel of forgiveness, no one is unworthy of it.” —Emmett Riley

“And your heart…” Lucy’s tone shifts into one that’s more serious “…is almost too big for your chest. It’s almost too big for this world. And nobody knows that better than I do.”

“I think when we sleep, our minds try to fill in the holes. The emotional wounds. And for a split second when we wake, everything doesn’t hurt. For a few breaths, things feel right and normal. Then we blink and it all shatters like illusions do. Everything starts to hurt again.”

It fucking hurts to breathe most days, but I breathe for Lucy.” And I breathe for you, Tatum. I don’t say that, but god … I think it.

I kept my promise to my wife. Yet she would never know. And I would accept the consequences. That was the day I lost my son, my wife, and in many ways … Lucy too.

It’s like Tatum looked for someone who is the complete opposite of me. I suppose the un-calloused hands of a surgeon can’t risk getting a splinter or blister from manual labor.

I’m not sure she does want me to be happy. I think she wants me to be okay. Okay for Lucy. Okay for her conscience. But not happy. I think she feels like my life falling just shy of true happiness is my penance.

Never is a strong word. It’s absolute. It’s all encompassing. And it’s nearly impossible to say with any truth. Never is the embodiment of the unimaginable. So is always. There is nothing absolute about our lives. Who we are lies in the space between always and never.

“What if she never forgives you for lying to her?” “Then that’s sad for her, isn’t it? We forgive other people for our own sense of sanity and peace. I’ve never asked for her forgiveness, and I never will.”