PART 3: THE APOLOGY
Without the expensive vest, he looked less imposing. He wore a plain blue shirt and seemed uncomfortable approaching me.
“Yes, I remember.”
He nodded. “My name’s Charles Whitman. I’ve been hoping to run into somebody who was there.”
I waited.
“I was rude to that gentleman. I know that. I’ve been thinking about it.”
“You made him feel pretty small,” I said.
Charles lowered his eyes. “I did. I was late for a meeting, and I’d had a miserable morning. None of that was his problem.”
He told me his mother had called that evening about an increase in her own prescription costs. At first, he’d told her to contact the insurance company and stop worrying. Then she had admitted she was frightened because she didn’t know how she’d manage if the price stayed that high.
“I kept hearing what I said at the pharmacy,” Charles told me. “I sounded like a man who’d forgotten that people can have problems they didn’t cause.”
I looked at him. “Did you tell your mother what happened?”
He gave a rueful smile. “I did. She told me I ought to be ashamed of myself.”
“Mothers have a way of getting straight to the point.”
“She certainly does.”
He asked whether Arthur was doing all right. I told him we were working on the insurance issue, but I didn’t share details Arthur hadn’t given me permission to discuss.
“Would you tell him I’m sorry?” Charles asked. “I don’t expect him to forgive me. I just want him to know I was wrong.”
“I can pass that along. But if he wants to speak with you, would you be willing?”
Charles nodded immediately. “Of course.”
I took his phone number and promised nothing more. It wasn’t my place to arrange forgiveness for Arthur, and I wasn’t sure he’d want to revisit that afternoon at all.
When I called Arthur later, he listened quietly.
“That fellow wants to apologize?” he asked.
“Yes. But you don’t have to talk to him.”
Arthur considered it. “I wasn’t angry so much as embarrassed. I suppose if he means it, I’d be willing to hear him out.”
With Arthur’s permission, I gave Charles his number. A few days later, Arthur told me they had spoken.
“He sounded sincere,” Arthur said. “I told him everybody has a bad day, but that doesn’t give us permission to make somebody else’s worse.”
“How did he take that?”
“He said I was right. Then he apologized again.”
Arthur chuckled. “I told him once was enough.”
That was the end of it. No public confrontation, no dramatic humiliation, and no sudden friendship. Just two men having a conversation that should have happened weeks earlier.
The following Saturday, Arthur and I met Daniel at a small coffee shop near the courthouse. Arthur arrived in a freshly pressed shirt and his veterans’ cap. He carried a paper bag that he kept adjusting on the table.
“What’s in there?” I asked.
“A little something for Daniel.”
“You know he doesn’t expect a gift.”
Arthur smiled. “That’s why I want to give him one.”
Daniel arrived a few minutes later in jeans and a gray sweatshirt. Without the hood, his expression seemed softer than I remembered. He spotted us by the window and came over with a smile.
“Mr. Collins. Good to see you.”
Arthur stood and shook his hand. “I’ve been wanting to thank you properly.”
“You already did, sir.”
“Well, I’m going to do it again.”
We ordered coffee and sandwiches. Arthur told Daniel about his insurance calls, the doctor’s office, and the possibility of getting his medication covered at a more manageable price.
“Margaret’s been a tremendous help,” Arthur said. “She makes those insurance people explain themselves.”
“I mostly ask them to repeat things,” I replied.
Daniel laughed. “Sometimes that’s what it takes.”
As we ate, the conversation turned to military service. Arthur described his years in Germany and the friends he’d made. Daniel told him about his father’s time in the Army and the factory where he’d worked afterward.
“Dad would’ve enjoyed talking to you,” Daniel said. “He could tell stories about the old days for hours.”
Arthur smiled. “I imagine we’d have gotten along.”
Then he reached for the paper bag.
“I brought you something. It’s not much, but I’d like you to have it.”
