Making Amends.

She wasn’t worth an apology.

At least, that’s what he said.

Maybe not in so many words.

In no words, for that matter.

While everyone else got to hear him

confess his sins,

beg for mercy,

promise never to commit

such heinous crimes again—

She watched from the nosebleeds.

As if it had never happened.

As if they hadn’t shown up on her porch

at midnight,

cold and in shock,

carrying only what their hands could hold.

No time to prepare

when you’re told

you’re no longer welcome

in your own home.

Not worthy of the viper’s sight,

only of his venom.

So they came to her sacred place,

the first place that was truly hers.

Safe.

Unstained.

Now tainted with the stench

of broken hearts

and alcohol-fueled betrayal.

And she was happy,

more than happy,

to be the safe place

the den mother

the welcome home.

But she didn’t realize

how bitter it would make her

when he woke up one day,

decided to change for the better,

to make amends with everyone

he’d ever hurt.

Everyone but her.

For she’d also had no time to prepare

when he kicked them to the streets,

just like she’d been kicked

by her own blood.

She only had a visceral reaction,

telling them there was no need to worry.

She’d figure it out.

Just like she always had.

And she did.

They didn’t go without.

And while the clearance air mattress

wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world,

it was better than the feeling

she got every time he spoke

about “going through the steps.”

For the rest of his life,

he would carry his recovery like a medal.

And for the rest of hers,

she would know that

in his eyes,

she wasn't worth an apology.