The Apology
Mr. Davis lingered in the corner booth until closing time, nursing his coffee like it contained answers to questions he hadn’t yet asked. The rest of the staff shot me concerned glances as they completed their closing duties, but I waved them off.
Some conversations needed to happen, even if they were years overdue.
As I wiped down the last table, he finally approached, his corporate posture now stooped with what looked like the weight of regret. ‘I should have stood up for you, Cathy,’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘What happened…
it wasn’t right.’ I paused, cloth in hand, memories of that humiliating day flooding back. ‘The company’s gone downhill since you left,’ he continued. ‘Morale is shot. Three departments have been restructured. I’m retiring next month.
‘ He laughed humorlessly. ‘Turns out I’m a dinosaur too.
‘
I studied his face – the new lines, the tired eyes. The vindication I’d once craved now felt hollow. ‘Your apology comes too late to change what happened,’ I said finally, ‘but I appreciate it nonetheless.’ I gestured around at Common Grounds.
‘Sometimes the wrong door closing leads to the right one opening.
‘
He nodded, relief washing over his features. As he turned to leave, he paused at the door. ‘There’s something else you should know,’ he said, his expression unreadable. ‘About Becca. She’s back in town.
‘