A story about... Forgiveness © 2000 Damon Diehl, Marg Frey, Greg Gbur, Bryce Graves-Hurst	GREG	MARG	BRYCE & DAMON
				DAMON & BRYCE
			BRYCE	MARG & DAMON
				DAMON & MARG
			DAMON	MARG & BRYCE
				BRYCE & MARG

     He managed to glare at me with his good eye. I drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. I adjusted my grip on the knife.

     "I know what you did to Mom," I began, "I even know what you did with her body. The only thing I don't know is where you've put the money." His breathing quickened, his cheeks puffing out with each wheeze.

     "Now calm down," I continued, "if I wanted to kill you I'd have done it already. I don't want that. I told you, I'm trying to forgive you. But to do that, I need something from you. We're the only family we got left, Dad. If we can't trust each other, what is there?"

     He stopped struggling and trying to talk, so I gently pulled the duct tape from his mouth. He smacked his lips a couple of times, cleared his throat. "Listen boy, I always did right by you. Your mother too, but I couldn't let her blab. It was too much money. It can buy us both better lives then we ever dreamed. I've got it stashed in that old chest in the attic. You go see if it isn't. Take it all, boy. I did it for you."

     I confess I didn't expect that response from my father. He smiled when tears came to my eyes, mistaking it for a rush of paternal affection, his salvation. "You did it for me? Two million dollars? Is that all Mom was worth to you?" I slapped a fresh piece of duct tape across his look of surprise. Then I started collecting the bundles of small bills from the chest of drawers where I had put them earlier. "You lied to me Dad. I found the money earlier, in the trunk of your car. You couldn't even trust me that much. That's okay. Here. You keep this money." I began to pile them up under and around his chair. The last bundle I held for a moment, flipping through it, thinking what that kind of money could buy. My whole family apparently. The edges caught rapidly and I could only hold it in front of dear old Dad for a moment before the flames started to sear my fingers. "Yes. I think you should keep it all."

     I added it to the pile.

     Then I left.