were you waiting for?”
His hands folded together.
When he finally looked up, his eyes were wet.
“For you to admit I had been right.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“At first,” he added.
“And later?”
He looked at Grandpa’s bag.
“Later, I didn’t know how to answer once you stopped asking me to forgive you.”
Five years ago, I would have demanded an apology.
Now I wanted something else.
I wanted him to see the life he had refused to see.
“Come back to the apartment.”
“Why?”
“Because
