“Good,” I said, honestly, “because I have not forgotten.” He nodded and accepted it.

“I came,” he said, “because I am tired of running from the things I owe.” I did not offer him full forgiveness that day.

Forgiveness, I have come to believe, is not a single act but a long slow weather, and it cannot be rushed or faked, and a person who demands it all at once has not understood what they are asking for.

What Brandon had done, walking out on an infant and the mother of that infant, was real, and it had marked both of us, and no amount of his showing up now could unmark it.