“Why?”
“I want to apologize.”
Darius stayed in the doorway.
“What changed?”
Patricia looked down the street. “Nothing.”
“That’s not an answer.”
She swallowed.
“I’ve been trying to figure out what to say.”
“You knew how to call 911.”
The words hit hard.
Patricia nodded.
“Yes.”
Micah appeared behind Darius.
“Dad?”
Patricia’s eyes moved toward him.
Micah was twelve now and slightly taller.
She said, “I’m sorry.”
He waited.
“I saw the bike.”
She took a breath.
“I decided it was Ryan’s.”
“I decided you could not own it.”
“I didn’t check.”
“I called police.”
Micah watched her.
Patricia continued. “I was wrong.”
Micah asked the question he had wanted answered for more than a year.
“Where was Ryan’s bike?”
Patricia’s face reddened.
“At Noah Miller’s house.”
“So nobody stole it.”
“No.”
“Did Ryan leave it there?”
“Yes.”
Micah nodded.
Patricia began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Micah glanced toward his father.
Darius did not help him.
This was not his decision.
Micah looked back at Patricia. “Okay.”
She waited.
He said nothing else.
“Do you forgive me?”
Micah’s brow tightened.
“I don’t know.”
Patricia nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.”
She walked away.
Darius closed the door.
Micah turned toward him. “Was that rude?”
“No.”
“She apologized.”
“Yes.”
“So I’m supposed to forgive her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because an apology gives information.”
Darius smiled faintly.
“It does not create a bill you owe.”
Micah thought.
“That sounds like one of your speeches.”
“It is.”
“Terrible.”
“I know.”