Colin turned on her. “How are you okay with not knowing?”
Leah thought of the moment earlier when she had wished every face beyond the wall could become simple enough to hate.
“I’m not okay with it,” she said. “I just don’t think not knowing gives me permission to invent the answer I need.”
Colin looked away.
For the rest of the day, they worked without discussing it.
That night, Colin learned his closest friend, Mason, would recover. The injury would require time and rehabilitation, but the message removed the worst possibility Colin had been carrying since morning.
He sat on an equipment case after hearing the news.
Leah found him there.
“Stable,” he said.
“Good.”
“I thought I’d feel better.”
“You might later.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“I keep seeing that shoe.”
Leah sat nearby, not close enough to crowd him.
“Me too.”
“I wanted to leave her dad on the floor.”
“You were scared and angry.”
“That doesn’t make it good.”
“No.”
He looked at her sharply, perhaps expecting reassurance.
Leah refused to give him a false version of himself. “You said something you meant in that moment. Then you saw more, and you made another choice. Both belong to you.”
Colin stared at the ground.
“I helped him because of the kid.”
“Okay.”
“Not because I forgave anything.”
“You don’t know what there is to forgive.”
He gave a frustrated laugh. “You really won’t let me have an easy sentence.”
“Neither will you, apparently.”
That made him smile despite himself.
