Not enough time for anyone to believe they were finished.
Camille sat beside him one afternoon.
He spoke slowly by then.
“Wedding.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“Money.”
She smiled.
“You are still worried about that?”
He nodded.
“You forgave?”
Camille looked at him.
“For paying?”
He nodded.
She thought.
“I never needed to forgive you for loving me.”
Marcus’s eyes filled.
“I did need to forgive you for treating my adulthood like a scheduling problem.”
He laughed weakly.
“Yes.”
Camille continued.
“And I did.”
“When?”
He asked.
She smiled.
“Not sure.”
He frowned.
“Bad accounting.”
“Terrible.”
She kissed his forehead.
Marcus looked toward the ceiling.
“Your mother would've told me.”
“Told you what?”
“Stop fixing.”
Camille smiled.
“She told you that while alive.”
“Yes.”
“Didn't listen.”
“Correct.”
He died five days later.
At the funeral, Richard came early.
He stood near the back.
Camille saw.
Walked over.
“Sit with family.”
His face changed.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He sat.
No grand reconciliation.
Years of smaller moments had already done the work.
Eleanor died at eighty-nine.
Camille was beside her too.
Not alone.
Andrew.
Richard.
Victoria.
Catherine.
Grandchildren.
The room full.
Before the end, Eleanor asked Camille:
“Did I ruin your rehearsal dinner?”
Camille laughed.
“You waited seventeen years to ask?”
“I was gathering evidence.”
“Lawyer family infected you.”
Eleanor smiled.
Camille took her hand.
“You ruined the rehearsal dinner.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Good.”
Camille frowned.
“Good?”
“I prefer accurate obituaries.”
Camille laughed through tears.
Eleanor continued.
“Did truth help?”
“Eventually.”
“Did my method?”
Camille thought.
“No.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Good.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
Then:
“I spent years thinking if the truth was important enough, timing became less important.”
Camille squeezed her hand.
“Timing matters.”
“Yes.”
“So does truth.”
“Both?”
Camille smiled.
“Both.”
Eleanor died the next morning.
At her funeral, no one played the rehearsal-dinner video.
Thank God.
Andrew spoke.
He described his grandmother teaching him cards.
Writing checks in green ink.