Leta stepped back from the front door of her apartment to let her caller inside. It was New Year’s Day, 1965, late in the evening. Leta was
in the midst of preparing for bed when her doorbell rang. She hurriedly put on
her robe and ran to the door to find that her friend Delbert Henderson was
waiting outside in the cold.
Delbert stepped into the apartment and she closed the door,
but not before a draft of cold sent shivers up her spine.
“Do you want to sit?” Leta asked. “Take your coat off?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” he said, turning toward her just inside
the door. Then he went silent for what seemed like an eternity. The quiet was
long enough for her to remember their last few moments together the previous
night—New Year’s Eve—when she joined him for an evening of card playing with
two other couples. She behaved badly. She had too much to drink, became too
loud, laughed inappropriately, and maybe was overbearing. When he took her home, he spoke not a word.
She spent the entire day vexed about it, wavering between telephoning him or letting
him go. She spent the day with her daughter Vivian’s family, and did not have
the opportunity to telephone him. When she arrived home, she determined that it
was too late.
And now, here he was.
“Leta,” he started nervously, “I know it’s late, and I
apologize for that, but I couldn’t want no more to speak with you about last
night.”
Leta’s heart jumped.
“Things didn’t go so well,” he continued. “It was supposed to
be a nice night of company and pinochle, and, well, I’m sorry. I didn’t treat
you so good.” He took a deep breath. “I should’ve remembered that it was a year
ago, almost to the day, that you lost Richard. Instead, I spent the entire time
missing Beatrice. It was just that she loved New Year’s. I wasn’t sympathetic
to you, and so I’m sorry.”
For a few moments, Leta did not know how to respond; however,
she felt as though the burden had been lifted from her. While Delbert’s
confession did not refute her own behavior, it did reduce her anxiety about it.
While she missed Richard, the pain was not so raw that she had to numb it. She
had simply been enjoying herself. Since he had made the first apology, she
determined that it was appropriate for her to make her own.
“I have a confession of my own,” she said.
He looked at her quizzically.
“I wasn’t on my best behavior last night either. I—“
“No, no, no,” he interrupted. “You don’t have to apologize. In
spite of all that you were going through, you were delightful. I won’t hear another
word.”
Leta wondered if she should continue or not. She gritted her
teeth for a few moments. Then she smiled at him.
“I know it’s late, but would you like a piece of pie and
coffee?” she asked.
He relaxed instantly.
“No pie, please. I’m sure it’s delicious, but I’m stuffed from
supper,” he protested. “I could use a cup of coffee though. It’s a cold night
out there.”
“Then take your coat off and come on in,” Leta said.
Over the next hour the two enjoyed coffee, conversation and a
small sliver each of leftover cherry pie. Leta confessed that Vivian had made
it.
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