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Pif Magazine
Pif Magazine |
Reasons Not to Forgive : Page 1, 2, 3, 4 Your head hurts, like someone is pouring black ink into the vessels of your brain. You can’t think of what to say and for a moment you are transfixed by the television, by the ad which flashes words to reach the muted viewer. Hot and Smart and Whatareyouwaitingfor.com. You look at Susan at the end of the couch, who told you one night that she believed these new ads with printed words would help fight illiteracy, since no one wants the lonely fate of being unable to consume. She is strangely cynical and hopeful all at the same time, this new wife. She is the only other person who knows about the night with Carmelita and her reaction was so different from Liz’s it brought you to your knees with gratitude. Literally, for within hours of your confession you had proposed. You wonder if Susan was a fool to accept you, and an even bigger fool to marry you. You wonder if you are the type of man that most women hate, the type of man who can’t make a decision to save his life. "Hello? Is anybody out there?" says Liz. "Uh, I don’t know about this," you say. "It’s just not realistic for me to try to come there every morning." You are using your work voice, the voice of a somber but sincere school administrator. "You know how it is. I have to be in Boston at my desk by nine." There is a pause. You think you hear Liz moving to another room, possibly away from Corey. "She still needs you, Joel." You shiver at the sound of your name. You remember that you have a name. You are a person. You are Joel Hoffman, supposedly. "I’m still here," you say. "I’m still her father." But as you’re saying this Susan takes your free hand in hers. She presses it to her expanding belly and you feel the movement, the slow pressure of a knee or elbow across the tight skin. "I can’t make a decision about this right now. I want to help, but I have to focus on my life now, with Susan." "Corey’s not ready for you to focus on your life with Susan. No one said you had to rush into a second marriage." You pull your hand away from Susan and head into the bedroom. You can think of nothing to say that will not sound entirely hostile. The only gracious exit is to agree. "If this is what she needs, then this is what she needs," you say. "What do you want me to do?" "Be here tomorrow at 7:30," she says. "And don’t get all high and mighty about it. You’re not doing me any favors." While you stand with the phone to your ear listening to the angry but mollified voice of your ex-wife, your new wife comes into the bedroom. She unbuttons her maternity dress and turns the shades, and then she pulls back the covers on the made bed and puts out her arms to you. She wants you. You are so grateful that you can’t move, astonished with glee. As you hang up the phone it is not without an awareness of the loss you are responsible for - the ways you have failed. But this is it: to be a man in this world you have to pick up the pieces and fit them back inside the frame of a life, holding tight to whomever will stand by your side. You are not forgiven. You will not forgive yourself. Once, long ago, you read an article about how forgiveness can only occur between equals. You are no equal to the man who engaged in that act years ago. As you take Susan’s hand and climb into bed, you want to believe that you are his better. Tell us what you think. Email talkback@pifmagazine.com Kiersten Marek is a writer, editor, and clinical social worker whose writing has previously appeared in The Newport Review and Curriculum Vitae. A former editor for The Hudson Review, Kiersten now works as an Associate Editor for Merlyn's Pen. As a clinical social worker Kiersten has performed assessments of adolescents for the court, has worked with psychiatrically hospitalized young children, and is currently serving as a trauma therapist in the Rhode Island Hospital Emergency Room. She shares a home in Cranston, Rhode Island, with her husband, daughter, and three cats. |
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