“Hey, what are friends for?” she asked.
I couldn’t help but smile.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Megan
Sunday dawned bright and early, and I woke up feeling a little hopeful and very nervous. It had to mean something that Phil had wanted me to come with him. This was a deeply personal trip for him to take and even in light of our strained relationship, the fact that he was still comfortable enough to ask me to join him for support meant that there was still a chance for us—at least, I hoped that’s what it meant.
The sun had barely come up, but I was wide-awake and wired. I made some chicken sandwiches for the road, and then I showered, wrapped a towel around my chest, and walked into the room to pack. I had no idea what kind of clothes to take, mostly because we were making this trip especially to see in inmate in prison. I wasn’t entirely sure which clothes were prison appropriate.
I ended up choosing jeans and a couple of light sweaters and t-shirts. I could mix and match, and in any case, we were only going to be gone for one night. I wondered how things would play out. Would we be sharing a room? If we were sharing a room, would we have twin beds or a queen to share? There were a few questions I had playing in my head, but no way of asking Phil.
Once I was packed, I slipped on jeans and a white t-shirt. Then I pulled on a light beige zip-up and left my hair loose around my shoulders. I stared at myself in the mirror, and even I thought my reflection looked nervous. I walked into the living room and set my bag and the sandwiches near the door. Then I spent the next couple of hours watching television and envisioning all kinds of different scenarios where Phil finally forgave me, and things went back to normal between us.
When eleven o’clock drew near, I walked to the window and stared outside, hoping to see Phil’s car pull up soon. Fifteen minutes later, he showed up, and I rushed to grab everything and head out the door. When I appeared at the front of the building, Phil got out of the car and put my stuff in the trunk. Then we both got in and headed to New York.
The ride was extremely quiet, and that didn’t help my nerves. I glanced at Phil a couple of times, but he seemed too lost in thought to participate in conversation. I decided to leave him to his thoughts. If he wanted to speak, he would. It took us two hours and fifteen minutes to get there, including a small pit stop where we ate the sandwiches I had made for us that morning, and the whole time we had barely said two words to each other. Even though the silence was slightly awkward, at least it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Once we got to New York, Phil parked the car in a large parking lot on the outskirts, so that we could take the subway into the city. We decided to leave our bags and come back to them in the evening when we needed to check into a motel nearby.
“What’s the plan?” I asked Phil, as we walked to the closest station.
“The plan is to walk around…” he replied distractedly.
We spent the evening walking around New York City until we ended up in Central Park. We sat down together on one of the benches and watched the world go by. Everyone seemed like they had places to be and apart from a few tourists taking pictures, Phil and I seemed to be the only ones who had time on our hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, looking over at me. “I know I haven’t been very entertaining today.”
I smiled. “You have a lot on your mind,” I said. “I get it.”
“I didn’t expect to feel so nervous,” he admitted.
I thought about taking his hand, but then I thought better of it. I didn’t want him to think I was taking advantage of the situation or his vulnerability.
“It’s normal to feel nervous,” I reminded him. “You haven’t seen Paul in a couple of years.”
“I had another thought while I was getting dressed this morning,” he said.
“Which was?”
“What if he refuses to see me?” Phil asked. “He can just decline my visit…”
“He won’t,” I said confidently, as though I knew Paul personally.
“Why not?” he asked. “I haven’t seen him in two and a half years. If I had been in his position… I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Stop over thinking,” I told him gently. “Let’s just take this one step at a time, shall we?”
“Ugh…was this a bad idea?” Phil asked with his head in his hands.
“No,” I said firmly. “It was a great idea and long overdue.”
“About two years overdue.”
“Hey,” I said. “You’ve been beating yourself up about this all morning, and I get it, you’re feeling guilty. But you’re trying to correct that mistake now—that has to count for something.”
“When you’ve been the one hurt, it takes more than realization to get to forgiveness.”