THE PATIENT IN ROOM 13
THE FORGIVENESS
Thursday, January 18th – 9:00 AM
Sloane sat in her office, the morning light streaming through the windows, a cup of tea growing cold in her hands. She had not slept well. The visit to Dr. Marsh had stirred up memories she had tried to bury — memories of her father, of the hospital, of the children in the graveyard.
The voices in her head were quiet.
“You are troubled,” Marian said.
“I am thinking about forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness is difficult.”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Marsh does not deserve your forgiveness.”
“No. She doesn’t.”
“Then why are you considering it?”
“Because forgiveness is not about the other person. It’s about me. It’s about letting go of the anger. It’s about moving on.”
“Can you let go?”
“I don’t know.”
“What would your father say?”
Sloane thought about her father. About his journals. About his final letter.
“He would say that holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”
“He was a wise man.”
“He was a good man.”
“And you are his daughter.”
Sloane picked up her phone.
She dialed the prison.
Dr. Marsh was brought to the visitation room within the hour.
She looked thinner than before, more fragile. Her eyes were red.
“Dr. Vance. I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About forgiveness.”
“And?”
“And I’ve decided that I can’t give it to you.”
Dr. Marsh’s face fell.
“I understand.”
“I can’t give it to you because I’m not the one you hurt. You hurt the patients. You hurt their families. You hurt my father. I can’t forgive you on their behalf.”
“Then why did you come?”
“Because I wanted to tell you that I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone. Hate is too heavy to carry.”
Dr. Marsh’s eyes filled with tears.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m not doing this for you.”
“Then why?”
“Because I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of carrying the weight of the past. I’m tired of letting the Watcher control my life.”
“The Watcher is gone.”
“The Watcher will never be gone. The memories will never be gone. But I can choose how to carry them.”
Sloane stood up.
“Goodbye, Dr. Marsh.”
“Goodbye, Dr. Vance.”
Sloane walked out of the visitation room.
She did not look back.