The letter

She sat across the table from him, the air between them thick with silence.

"Did you get the letter?" he asked.

"Betty gave it to me," Annette said toward her hands, clenched under the table.

"Oh, good."

The truth is that she had only skimmed the letter. It made her too angry to read it. It was a letter that should have been written ten years ago.

------------

It was New Year's eve. Annette's ringtone went off and she looked at who was calling. Her father. She answered and he launched into a stream of banality. After a minute or so, Annette interrupted.

"Dad, do you know how long it's been since we've spoken? It's been almost a year."

"Well, yeah... that's partially my fault, too -" he began.

"No, Dad. It was a conscious choice on my part not to contact you, and it didn't occur to you to call me in all that time until this moment. And then, when you call, you act as if we'd just left our conversation off yesterday."

"Well, sure - "

"No, Dad. I can't do this. I can't be an afterthought, or a toy to play with when it's convenient for you. I'm done here. I'm angry at you. Really angry. You've been a really crummy father and I just don't want to talk to you anymore."

"Now wait a second - "

"No. I'm done waiting for you, like I waited with my coat on for hours for you to show up for your scheduled visits when I was a kid. I'm done.

He scrambled verbally for something to say. The excuses poured from him. Annette gathered herself.

"Here's the deal, Dad. I am superstitious about New Year's eve. I do not want to ring in my new year feeling this angry. I'm going to hang up. If you think you have any right to have a relationship with your daughter, write me a letter telling me why. I'll read it. We'll see where we go from there."

Annette hung up the phone.

------------------

So here they were, ten years later. He had written the letter today, and given it to her sister to give to her, so they could meet and have lunch. Those weren't the terms, but Annette capitulated. He's not going to be alive forever, she thought. Can you let him die with this unresolved? Can you live without regret if you didn't reconcile when you could have?"

She looked at him across the table from her, babbling away about banalities, just as he had ten years prior on the phone. She shook her head and tamped down her frustration.

It wasn't New Year's eve, at least.