I sat back.
“You punished me for being kind.”
“Yes.”
“That explains it,” I said. “But it doesn’t excuse it.”
“I know.”
“Good deeds aren’t refunds, Kevin.”
“You punished me for being kind.”
He nodded. “I don’t want a refund. I want to stop hiding from what I did.”
I didn’t forgive him that day, but I met him again.
Then I met him again.
Months passed. He didn’t rush me. He didn’t ask me to forget. He listened when I was angry. He corrected people when they praised the boy he used to be.
My older sister, Matilda, hated the whole thing.
I didn’t forgive him that day,
“You can forgive a man,” she told me over the phone, “but don’t forget what he’s done to you.”
“I’m not.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I’m watching him.”
“Watch yourself too, Maggie. You have a big heart, and it gets you into trouble sometimes.”
