denver opens him.
"i brought some things for you."
i looked at her with questions in my eyes.
she reached into the backseat and revealed a floppy disk and his old hat. as she handed the hat to me, i saw her back in boston, wearing that hat, hating her. as she handed me the floppy disk of his writing, i ate my own words and shut the fuck up.
"thank you so much."
"if anyone should have that hat, it's you."
how i held it back, i grabbed it with fists too tight tight for anything tangible and held my crying hysterical at arm's length.
we sat outside the coffeeshop and chainsmoked over stories of him. she had to see the look in my eyes to know how i missed him. i had to hear her voice to know that she realized what he meant to all of us.
an ex-girlfriend not allowed to play the game of who hates who more because she knows how he loved.
somehow, for a brief two hours, she and i ended up in the same place at the same time. we'd both moved away from what we knew. we both ended up across from each other trying to make it all real.
i did a lot of the talking, answering questions about his and i's relationship, his sickness, the hospital, but i only looked down when i wanted to cry. i only looked straight into her eyes when i told the truth.
"you were the friend to him that i couldn't be. because of that, he was the friend to me that i needed. if you hadn't forgiven him, and taught him that, he wouldn't have ever been able to forgive me."
"i dont know about that," i said to my hands, to the air.
"i never had the chance to thank him properly. now, i'm thanking you."
i hugged her goodbye, and i thanked her for knowing him. we promised to talk soon with stale smoke on our breath.
i can't forgive sins to others, i can't wash the slate clean, but i can open my arms to now. i can ignore the space in between times.
there is no time for me not to wrap my arms around this pretty petite thing and tell her that he knows. that he loved her so. that he saw something in her that the rest of us turned away from. that she fucked up, but that he's doing the forgiving for all of us.
i opened the door to my brother's house, and everyone looked at me, standing in the doorway, liminal. i took his hat out from my bag and touched it with contemplative hands. he had wanted this hat back for years, talking about how the button pinned on it was one of his favorites, "no muttering in the ranks." i turned it over in my hands and wondered who this hat was meant for now. it doesn't fit me right although i want to wear it. one day, when he stops being silent, this hat will find someone new. until then, i won't pretend that it belongs to me.
