It took me a while to find the nerve to even come here this morning. Reaching the grey stone three-story house, I park just in front of it and wait for my nerve to return to me and make me get out of this car and walk the few meters separating me from the entrance.
It is an impressive house. The kind you would expect a doctor to own. Even underneath the thick, powdery, white snow, you can tell the yard is well maintained. The walkway, cleared of snow, is also made of grey stone. It is the kind of house you would anticipate coming to. The kind where you can imagine important functions are held, and canapes are served by waiters in tuxedos.
I do not know how long I have been sitting here, staring at this house. Long enough for my coffee to get cold. Sensing my nerve has left me high and dry, I down the rest of my coffee like a tequila shot. I take a deep breath and get out of my car into the cold air. Let's get this over with, you sissy.
Reaching the carved, dark wood door, I ring the doorbell and fight the urge to run away like I just pulled a bank job. Endless seconds pass, and a familiar face opens the door.
"Mrs. Arnold?" comes his astonished greeting.
I cannot help but smile and fidget like a silly schoolgirl. Beneath his sombre appearance, he is still handsome.
"Good morning, Dr. Morris. I'm sorry to show up unannounced. I was wondering, if it's not too much trouble, if I could possibly speak to Timmy, please. I've heard he's not allowed visitors. But it's kind of important, and I was wondering if you could perhaps make an exception this one time. Please," I tell him clearing my throat at the end.
I have come to make amends. To right a wrong and to ask for forgiveness is what I need to tell him, but I am too embarrassed to say. Dr. Morris hesitates for a few seconds but agrees to let me in.
The interior is as impressive as the exterior: hardwood floors, bright white walls ornated with abstract paintings, crown mouldings, and a staircase that spirals up to the third floor. It is hard to imagine anyone unhappy in such a place. Yet, Dr. Morris's marriage and family fell apart between these fancy walls. He cheated on his wife, and now Timmy has a criminal record. It is true what they say, is it not? Money does not buy happiness.
He leads me to his living room, where he invites me to sit down on a large, grey, comfortable couch. In front of me, a beautiful wooden coffee table with impressive woodwork bears a wide selection of journals and magazines. On the floor, an expensive-looking oriental rug gives the room a cozy charm. I want to sit back on the couch and make myself comfortable, but I remind myself I was not invited here today. If anything, I am intruding, and so, I remain upright.
Dr. Morris leaves the room. I take advantage of this moment to practice my speech, but soon, Timmy appears. I stand up, give him a slight wave of the hand and a soft smile. He is thinner and sadder. Light years away from the rosy-cheeked, jubilant boy I came to know and like.
"Hello, Timmy. Thank you for seeing me," I tell him.
He gives me a sheepish smile and does not hold eye contact. I cannot tell whether he is embarrassed or mad. Maybe both. He keeps silent, and so I speak again.
"I'm so sorry, Timmy, for everything that's happened. I was informed you were questioned for hours at the police station about the break-in at my house because I gave your name to the police officer. I am so, so sorry for that, Timmy. I have no good explanation for it, and I can't figure out for the life of me why I would have thought you capable of such a thing," I say.
Timmy shrugs his shoulders and keeps staring at the floor. He notices his left pant leg has risen above his ankle, exposing his ankle bracelet. Timmy bends down in a hurry and hides it once more beneath the fabric. He glances back up at me, and his cheeks are burning red. I divert my eyes and play with my purse pretending I did not notice.
"Uh, that's alright, Mrs. Arnold. Everything got cleared up in the end, so it's all good," he says, keeping his eyes on the floor.
I know, Timmy, this is awkward and uncomfortable, but I don’t have a choice. You deserve an explanation.
"I was scared, Timmy. That night, everything was crazy, and I wasn't thinking straight. I could only see their eyes, and one of them, he kept his distance. He acted weird. He always kept close to Natalie, and he had clear blue eyes. Exactly like yours! I thought it had to be someone I knew. Someone who knew Michael would not be there that evening. My mind kept racing, and I thought I recognized you. I know I'm making excuses for what I did. And you would think I would know better than to accuse someone without proof, but Timmy, I wasn't myself that night. It was all crazy," I say in a pleading tone, begging for him to understand.
Begging for him to forgive me and to mend what I have broken. Timmy barely glances up at me and nods in return, and goes back to stare at his shoes. But no words. Not even a tiny smile. Timmy does not give me any sign that may hint at the possibility he may forgive me sometime down the road. That our friendship may still be saved. Nothing. The damage I have done is too considerable. The wound I have opened is too deep. There is no going back. There is no mending this.
My chin quivers and my throat knots, and my eyes swell up. I take a deep breath. I do not want to cry in front of him and make this encounter even worse. I do not want to make him uncomfortable or, god forbid, guilty for refusing to accept my apology. It is his right, and I cannot blame him. I falsely accused him of a horrible crime. A boy I have known all his life. A boy I like. A boy who could be my own son. No. There is no fixing this.
"Ok. Well, that's all I wanted to say. And I truly am sorry, Timmy, and if I could take it all back, I would," I tell him.
Another nod. Another shrug of the shoulders. I have been dismissed. It is time to go. I thank him for his time and walk past him to Dr. Morris, waiting for me in the vestibule.
"Thank you for your time, Dr. Morris," I say.
It is hard to look at this man in the eye. The confident vet I have come to know has disappeared into this dishevelled, sad, older man. I cannot help but think I am partly to blame for all this. Yes, Timmy may have thrown the first punch, but I dealt the final blow.
"Thank you for coming, Mrs. Arnold. It was nice of you," he tells me.
“No, thank you, Dr. Morris, for letting me apologize to your son. I’m so sorry for all the trouble I caused him and you. I realize now there is no excuse good enough that could possibly explain why I thought Timmy could be one of them. And so, all I can do is say how deeply sorry I am for all the hurt I caused. And I wanted to thank you for everything you did for Toby. I know you tried your best to save him. Natalie does too. So, thank you!” I tell him, my chin quivering.
His eyes are red, but he clears his throat and nods with a slight smile. He then extends his hand, and I shake it. I smile at him and nod, and walk out the door. A lot of things changed on that godforsaken night. And they will never be as they once were.