Chapter 19 - The Watch and the Choice
Thomas's watch was not particularly valuable.
Its silver case was scratched, and it ran four minutes slow unless someone wound it every morning.
He had worn it on our wedding day.
He had worn it when Daniel was born.
He had worn it the last time we danced in the kitchen before his illness made standing difficult.
I could have bought a hundred more expensive watches without noticing the cost.
But there was only one with our initials engraved inside.
Judith sent a written request for its return.
Vanessa's attorney answered that the item had been given to Daniel as a keepsake.
Daniel denied that account.
He said he had not seen it since the funeral.
I found myself exhausted by the thought of another fight.
At lunch with Richard, I asked a question I had never asked aloud.
"How much of my life am I supposed to spend chasing what they took?"
He sat with it for a moment.
"Only as much as you decide is worth spending."
The answer felt like another gift from Thomas.
I authorized a final documented request, then chose to stop organizing my days around Vanessa's response.
I visited the nursing school where I had completed my training.
I met students who worked nights, cared for parents, and worried about tuition.
One young woman reminded me of myself at twenty-two.
She said she was afraid she would have to quit before her final semester.
I asked the dean how a scholarship could be structured fairly and independently.
Together with the trustees, we established grants that would not depend on anyone knowing my name.
At the first award meeting, I sat in the back and listened.
For the first time since the funeral, my tears came from relief rather than humiliation.
Later, Daniel and I met at a small café near the Hudson.
He arrived early and stood when I entered.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
I ordered tea.
We talked about his work and the counseling he had begun.
Then he reached across the table, stopping before he touched my hand.
"I can't ask you to forgive what I did," he said.
"You can ask," I replied.
"But you can't demand an answer."
He nodded.
"I'm learning that."
I studied his face.
He looked older than he had three months earlier.
Perhaps I did too.
Before we left, he placed a small box on the table.
Inside lay Thomas's silver watch.
"Vanessa gave it to me when she moved out," Daniel said.
"She told me to keep it away from you."
I lifted the watch with trembling fingers.
Its hands had stopped at 2:16.
"Why bring it now?" I asked.
"Because it's yours, Mom."
For once he returned something without a bargain attached.
I closed the box.
The watch was back.
The years it represented were still gone.
May you like
And the decision about what kind of relationship we could build was only beginning.
