Tenn and Lark

Chapter 21: A Fresh Start

Lark's words had the same effect as a sledgehammer in the gut on me.

I was pretty sure my heart had stopped, and since I couldn't catch my breath, I was wondering if maybe my lungs had collapsed, too. Only my fucking tear ducts were functioning, and they seemed to be working twice as hard to make up for all of my other organs going on strike.

But the only thing I really cared about was my ears, and that they'd heard those unbelievable words out of Lark's mouth and hadn't misunderstood what she'd said.

Tenn, I forgive you.

Robbed of the power of speech, I took a step toward her and stopped. Then I took another one and stopped again.

Almost every person has one Christmas or birthday present they always wanted but never got. That was how I felt about Lark's forgiveness. I figured I'd always want it more than anything else in the world, but I'd probably never get it because a betrayal like mine didn't merit forgiveness.

But she'd just offered that gift to me, without my begging for it, without being prompted, without anyone trying to guilt her into it.

And that very fact made Lark's gift to me all the more precious.

She'd freely given it to me.

I'd betrayed her, hurt her and caused her unimaginable pain, and she'd somehow forgiven me.

What do you do when faced with something you never thought you'd be given?

I took a step toward her and stopped for a third time. Lark was just watching me with a half-curious, half-puzzled expression on her face at my start-and-stop momentum, and even though she'd just forgiven me, I didn't know if she'd welcome me grabbing her in my arms and holding her for the rest of our lives.

Fuck it.

I took that final step to her and wrapped my arms around her, holding her close for the first time in what seemed like forever, and then slowly -- because my legs stopped working -- I slid to my knees in front of my wife, my face pressed against her stomach, my arms tight around her waist.

When we'd been talking about forgiveness with Dr. Hampton, she'd told us a basic truth: forgiveness didn't equal forgetting and it also didn't equal reconciliation. I knew that very well, but even if Lark still dumped my stupid ass, she'd forgiven me.

Dr. Hampton had cautioned that people often -- and very mistakenly -- thought forgiveness was a magical eraser for whatever action had to be forgiven. It wasn't. Lark's forgiveness didn't mean the hurt I'd inflicted on her had just disappeared in a puff of smoke. It hadn't. It didn't mean my betrayal had never happened. It had. Her hurt was still very present, and would be for a long, long time. Maybe forever.

She'd also warned us that some people think once forgiveness has been given, that's it. The hard work's done and it's full steam ahead, drawing a curtain on the past. Whew! I'm forgiven, we're all good now. That seemed naïve and shortsighted to me, and would have minimized the effect and long-lasting consequences of my betrayal. For me, Lark's forgiveness didn't change the course I'd set for myself at all. Before she'd forgiven me, I'd planned to work every single day to regain her trust, prove my love and earn her forgiveness. Now that she'd forgiven me, I planned to work every single day to regain her trust, prove my love and continue to earn her forgiveness. If you take a gift like that for granted, you don't realize its true worth and how much it actually cost the giver. Exactly what it cost her to offer it.

That was another point Dr. Hampton had made in our sessions.

"Some people never get to a place of forgiveness because they know what they can and can't live with. And that's OK. Some people do get to a place of forgiveness, and that's OK, too. Forgiveness isn't just for the person being forgiven. It's also for the person doing the forgiving. It's letting go of all of that bitterness, of that need to wound or lash out at the person who hurt them."